Spicy Paranormal Romance Books Novels & Stories

He asked, gently sliding the linen on my skin and I shuddered in pleasure. “I do.” “Give me a safe word.” He said, covering my sight with the black linen until all I could see was black mixed with red from the lights. “Vanilla,” I responded as his fingers caressed my neck and then made their way to my lips. Without hesitation, I took his index finger into my mouth, then his middle finger, and sucked on them as if my life depended on them. “Fuck.” Davin whispered in satisfaction. “Why vanilla?” “That's my favorite scent,” I replied after he took his fingers out of my mouth and he hummed slightly in understanding.

Damn, I could feel heat pooling between my legs already, my pussy getting slick just from standing this close to him in the pitch black. His fingers flexed on my hip, not pushing me away. “Easy, Riley. Stay right there a second. I’ll get the fire going stronger so we can see.” His voice was low and rough. He kept his hand on me as he moved us toward the living room, guiding me. My body followed without thinking, thighs rubbing together with every step and making my clit throb. We settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. Dante stacked more logs and got the flames crackling high, the orange glow lighting up his face and those broad shoulders.

I hope that you enjoyed the new updated story for spicing up the ranch. I have quite a few other books listed on GoodNovel if you're interested in my style of writing. Some are erotic stories such as the assistant, Swedish sugar, the alpha son needs his match, and keeping it within the family. I also have science fiction romance such as Stardust. We also have quite a few other romance styles both in the past like a timeless love. And in the present such as the dangers of dating.

when I reached for spices. I’d also done something else. When Claire wasn’t looking, I’d slipped a generous pinch of the ghost pepper spice mix Ethan loved into her serving of the sauce. The same spice she’d always complained about at family dinners—“too hot, too much, I can’t handle it.” She would always say. She hated it while He adored it. I smiled sweetly as I plated her food. Lunch started politely. Claire complimented Ethan’s cooking, laughed at his jokes, touched his forearm when she spoke. Every time her fingers grazed him, my stomach twisted with something dark and possessive.

Mafia books on this platform: Take me I'm yours ( stalker romance) His secret wife (Marriage of convience) Werewolf books on this platform: The royally screwed Luna The royally screwed queen The royally screwed princess The royally screwed rogue Dark romance on this platform: Let me go ( Stalker romance) Coming July 2024 Kind regards Tema G.M Your favorite author *Heart*

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

She pushed that down deep, sipping from stored bags in the fridge. Rain hammered the windows that Tuesday night. Lydia sat at her desk, sorting through a box of new books. One caught her eye: Spirits of the Wild: Bindings and Releases. The cover was cracked leather, smelling like dirt and old forests. She flipped it open, her fingers brushing over faded words in some ancient tongue. "Just a peek," she told herself. Curiosity burned in her chest. She read the spell aloud, soft and quick, like testing a locked door. The air changed. It got heavy, like before a storm. Candles on the shelves flickered wild, shadows dancing on the walls. A rumble started low, from the book itself. Lydia's hands s

With devotion and voracity. Her body arches, bows against the cold glass. Her cries are no longer stifled. They resonate in the empty penthouse, hoarse sobs, incoherent pleas. She speaks. She says my name, curses, prayers. Her legs tremble, close around my head, imprisoning me. I am lost in the darkness, in the taste, in the scent of her. The vibration within me reaches a crescendo, transforms into a dull roar that seems to come from the earth itself.

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