Romantic Stories Free Novels & Stories

he then asked. The King tilted his head to one side and studied her curiously. "How so?" he asked. It was time to pull out her cards. "Men don't like free-thinking, educated women with ambitions and dreams." Angelica replied. "I have read over three hundred books on more than a hundred different subjects. My dream is to open a school for young girls and teach them how to write and read, Your Majesty," she said. Hopefully, this would be enough to scare him.

"Is it okay? The weather is rather chilly Younno. She allowed her gown to fall down her waist as she bit her lips gently. She walked close to me affectionately, massaging my huge chest. This was what I needed and I couldn't stop her. She pushed me on the bed and I fell freely like a feather. Her lips on mine drove me into the world of romance, my mind finally free from worry and anger.

Whattt? You are a pretty ass bad bitch! Are you sure ayo would be able to keep his hands to himself? Use a condom sha.🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️😑 I am not ready to be a godmother. Bel. godmother kor.🙄🙄 Me nko?🙄🙄 You wan dey whine cultist?😕😗😒 Amara don't use condom o. It's more enjoyable without a condom.🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️

I’ve read a lot of things in my ten years of teaching. Late-night essays, drunken rants passed off as “creative expression,” confessions disguised as poetry. But none of them ever made my cock hard. Until hers. Until Mira Callahan handed in her extra credit assignment. It was a short story, printed neatly in 12-point Times New Roman, double-spaced like I asked. But the first sentence hit like a punch to the gut: “He wasn’t supposed to touch her, but he wanted to. And when she leaned back on his desk and spread her legs, he forgot what ‘supposed to’ meant.”

I told him I wasn’t the one begging for distance every time things got real. The motherfucker left the next morning after we fucked for two hours straight and I still wasn’t satisfied. Trust me, the hours weren’t the problem—I just couldn’t get enough of it. He didn't grind my pussy as much as I'd fantasized it. He barely even touched the surface. What a waste! My fourth boyfriend didn’t even give an explanation. He just stopped replying to my messages after a night he called “perfect.” That night barely even beat what my hands could do for themselves. How could he call that ‘perfect’?

Whenever I visit their house now, I know exactly what’s waiting. Two men who know how to share me perfectly. Two cocks that make me scream and drip and beg for more. Pure, endless, panty-soaking passion with no end in sight.

Warning: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamics, rough sex, forbidden relationship, risky public sex. 18+ only. Ethan had been subscribed to Scarlet's exclusive content for eight months. Eight months of the most intense, addictive solo sessions of his life. The mysterious masked stripper had become his obsession....her body was perfection, her moves were hypnotic, but it was the mystery that really got him. Nobody knew who she was. She never showed her face, never spoke, just moved with a sensuality that made grown men weep.

Julian stayed there for a long time, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving. When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go of me. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from my damp face. “Your debt is over, Clara,” he whispered, his voice dark and possessive. “But our story is just beginning.” He kissed me then—not with the hunger of a predator, but with the quiet, terrifying certainty of a man who would never let his prize go. I was a prisoner in a gilded cage, but as Julian pulled me back into his arms, I realized I no longer wanted the key.

"What? What kind of game?" Ronan paused, his gaze dropping to her lips before locking back onto her eyes. “Stay with me tonight. One full night, with you not running and not faking. Do that, and I’ll let you go for good. No more playing." Rissa stared at him, her breath hitching. The offer was a trap, she knew it, but the promise of freedom from his torment was almost too tempting to ignore. She looked at his hand on the table, then back at his face, searching for the lie.

“Touch me. Put your fingers in my pussy. I’m wet. I’m so wet for you.” She guided his hand between her legs. His fingers were clumsy, hesitant. She spread her thighs wider, showing him. “Here. Just push inside.” His fingertip brushed her swollen lips, then dipped into her opening. A jolt of pleasure shot through Francine. She arched against his hand. “Yes. More. Use two. Fuck me with your fingers.” He obeyed, pushing two fingers deep into her slick channel. She rocked against them, her hips seeking their rhythm. Her own moans mixed with the sound of the rain. She sucked his cock again, harder, faster, her head bobbing vigorously.