Short Erotic Novels Novels & Stories

The kiss was hungry and urgent, full of all the tension that had built up during every lecture. He backed her up until her ass hit the edge of the desk. Papers shifted under her. One hand moved from her face down to her neck, holding her in place while he kissed her harder. His other hand slid under her skirt and straight between her legs. He cupped her pussy over her panties and groaned when he felt how soaked the fabric was. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered against her mouth. He rubbed his fingers along the wet material, pressing it between her swollen lips. Sara gasped and rocked against his hand. The friction on her clit felt so good she almost came right there.

His entire body went rigid, his muscles shaking violently as he shot a thick, hot wave of cum deep inside my pussy, filling me up until it was spilling out. We stayed pinned against that glass window for a very long time, both of us panting for breath, our sweat mixing together as the city lights twinkled far below us. The sin was committed. It was beautiful, it was wrong, and as Julian slowly pulled his thick dick out and wrapped his strong arms around my shaking, naked body, I knew neither of us could ever go back to the way things were before.

Still, doubt creeps in as I focus on her eyes, “Is this the right thing for you though?” She looks at me for a long minute, before finding my hand and leading it down her body. Her boobs, soft and perky, her flat stomach, and finally deeper. Past her panties and I feel her wetness. My hand is soaked, and she groans when my hand comes into contact with her dripping pussy. The sound is so sexy, so raw. “Just from that kiss, my love. We can talk about whether it's right tomorrow.” I don't need any other confirmation. I grab her.

He slid the book across the desk toward me. “Read.” I glanced down. The title was unfamiliar. But the image on the cover made my throat dry. A woman on her knees, blindfolded, arms behind her back. Submission. Captivity. Pleasure. “I—what is this?” “A test.” I hesitated, then opened the book. I started reading. It was graphic from the start. No gentle build-up. Just hot skin, whispered commands, legs spread, lips parted, wet tongues, whimpers, begging. The words tasted strange in my mouth. Heavy. Vulgar. But I read them anyway.

A dark, erotic, romance novel. The goal was to stop thinking about Alexander, but only ten minutes into the book and I'm already imagining his hands all over me. I'm already imagining him bending me over the fucking window of my room and filling me up ruthlessly until all I can remember is the sound of his name on my lips.

The fact that she had a pretty face and great body, combined with her inexperience and shyness, got Josephine even hornier. There was something wild, irresistible and purely sexy about that girl. Josephine wanted that soft skin to rub against hers. She couldn't wait to rub her pussy against April's pussy. Oh fuck. The erotic thoughts of her and April in a scissors position, rubbing and pressing their pussies against each other, made the volume her moans and groans increase. She increased the movement of her fingers, brutal thrusting and ramming her fingers into her pussy over and over again, her thumb coming in contact with her sensitive clit with every powerful thrust.

Cum overflowed around my shaft, leaking out with each small twitch of my hips as I held her pinned, the intense release rocking through us both. Her body quivered under mine, still pushing back weakly for more even as I stayed buried deep, my hand stroking her spine tenderly now while the aftershocks rippled. The office air hung thick with the scent of sex, our heavy breaths mixing as I leaned down to nip her ear. "Good girl," I murmured, already feeling my cock twitch inside her, ready to start all over again with her desperate body still bent and waiting.

, it can be found on any book platform and unlike this book, Burning passion is a novella, so just sit back and enjoy a long blissful erotic stories THANK YOU AGAIN❤️!!

Ryder wasn't just using his tongue, he was conducting a symphony of filth against her nerve endings. They were buried deep under the thick, weighted duvet, a private cavern that smelled of sweat, salt, and the heavy, metallic musk of her own relentless arousal. The heat was stifling, the oxygen thin, but Ruth-Ann didn't care. She felt like a goddess atop a throne of sin, her body vibrating with a raw, electric hunger that five hours of climaxing hadn't even begun to sate.