Sexual Romance Books Novels & Stories

She must have exhausted herself with all that training. I moved quietly into the room, intending to just take the book so it didn’t fall and wake her. My hand closed around the spine, lifting it carefully. The cover made me pause. A shirtless man with a woman pressed against a wall, his hand tangled in her hair. The title was something generic…“Forbidden Desire” or some shit like that. It was an explicit romance novel. I almost smiled. My little sister, reading dirty books. It was kind of adorable, actually.

I knew it would be. Her smile was awkward and shy. "I've been reading a lot of, you know.. erotica lately—those steamy novels. And.. and it's awakened something in me. Desires I've never acted on. But now, I can't stop thinking about them. It's affecting my sleep, my focus at work. I feel this constant.. tension. Like my body's on fire, but I don't know how to release it without losing control." "What about your husband? Can't he... "

Sasha couldn’t focus the entire next day. Her body still throbbed with phantom sensations – Jay’s rough hands gripping her hair, Liam’s thick cock stretching her wide, the taste of their combined lust still lingering on her tongue. Every time she crossed her legs, her pussy clenched, aching for more.

"If you're sure you want to share." Gemma carefully ran her fingers through Sabrina's hair, gathering it up into a loose ponytail. Gemma's own hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, her blonde locks messy and framing her features with an 'I just had sex' aura. "I am," she said. "And to say thank you for hitting my kink so well..." She moved her hands from Sabrina's hair to her throat. "I want to do the same for you. Now, bed Daddy to stretch out your cunt and fuck a big, creamy load into you as well."

You have to claim them. When he’d gone, because I wasn’t finished yet, I lay on the rumpled bed, and brought myself off with my fingers. I thought of how he’d behaved earlier, sadistic and cruel, reveling in my cries from the pinch of the clamps and the slam of his cock. Then I fell asleep for an hour or so. When I woke, my hair was in a crazy, damp tangle and my breasts were a mess of scratch marks and blotches. And he was probably eating wild turbot because he usually does when it’s on expenses at Saxby’s. I would too. The point I’m making: sex isn’t like it is in the movies; it isn’t even like porn. Sex isn’t like anything except itself.

Curiosity was eating at her. With an effort, she made herself focus on the other titles. He had books on negotiating, battle tactics, history, agriculture…boring. Didn’t the man read any fiction? There was a book on stained glass that looked mildly interesting, but she kept scanning the shelves, hoping for something more enticing. Her search was rewarded. There, right in the middle of his shelves at eye level, was an entire shelf of books devoted to lovemaking. Wiley’s eyes boggled as she read the titles: An Illustrated Guide to the Sensual Arts. A Woman’s Climax. Emotional Need and the Sensual Virgin. There were dozens of titles.

He was quick to notice of course, and he returned again, this time holding my waist while his bulge pressed into my derriere. I let out a soft gasp, "I have some books to pick up by the bookstore before it closes." I tried to conceal my surprise. His eyes lit up, "don't you torture yourself reading those erotics?" He looked into my face. He knew what I was reading? My eyes flicked towards him. "You think I don't know?" His tongue flickered to his lips. "You went into my room?" I was stunned. "The covers drew me in, and I couldn't help but glance through some pages. But I must say, the side effects of reading such books can be disastrous."

For years, Cynthia Cohen would have said that a perfect evening was one spent reading a book on the couch in her living room, her long red hair twisted into a bun and secured with chopsticks, her feet toasty in fuzzy slippers and her curves disguised by baggy pyjamas. But then she had met Richard, and Richard had helped her to see that an even more perfect evening included being naked and sweaty, her hands bound. On her knees. Just the thought of their nights spent together in such a fashion made Cynthia’s throat tight and her chest hot, the aching space between her thighs clenching uncomfortably. As her lover, Richard had helped her to see herself as more than the quiet bookworm she had alw

Wow, why would she be jealous? “You and Jackson are so close, so connected. You talk so openly about sex, life and everything. He knows what you want and need. Liam and I are more routine, the same thing every day. Reading up on it all, it is something I would love to have, but Liam, I doubt he is the sort to do it. Even just a small bit would be nice. Sex is kind of boring at the minute.” I look at her, shocked. Is she bored of Liam already?

"Whatever happened to love each other first then... then doing the deed after. Is everyone after physical contact only these days? What about getting to know each other first? Chivalry? Romantic date?" I sighed and stopped spinning, facing my laptop and visiting a bookstore's site to see what books sell. Ah, of course, my book wouldn't be in the top 10, and I didn't hope so; what's staring back at me is the top 10 best-selling books for the week, where five of ten are Erotic Romance books. "And I thought my company wouldn't be like other companies who are after profit; I was wrong. Then again, business is business."