Spread Those Sandy Cheeks Shirt Novels & Stories

It was a taboo… An attraction that should have been forbidden from the start. But he was gorgeous, sinfully attractive and insanely seductive. How was she supposed to resist him when those eyes made her skin burn? How was she supposed to walk away when his presence intoxicated her like a drug? Silver-streaked hair, full sleeve tattoos, piercings above those slashed brows and those mesmerizing seafoam eyes that made her whimper with every glance, Roman was her biggest fantasy. A forbidden fruit she couldn't even look at, unless… He offered her a taste. Even at that, there were so many ways this could go wrong… especially when he was married to another.

“What?!” I finally manage to croak out. “Let me fuck you”he repeats Okay so I heard him correctly. I turn to leave but then remember that Clare is probably riding Shane’s dick right now so I stop.I think about it for a second then I decide that I’m going to do it. My core clenches at the thought of having sex for the first time and I become more aware that I want to do this. “Okay”I tell him I walk back to the room locking the door.I take off my dress and then walk towards the random stranger who is beckoning me with his finger. This is so fucked up but I’m determined to enjoy this so I don’t pay too much attention to the details because that’ll only make me overthink this. Besides all I ever wanted was to lose my virginity to Shane Ryder but now that he is balls deep inside Clare Haistings I don’t think that matters anymore. He takes his shirt off, his torso and chest rippling. I almost let out a moan. The dim lights are making him look like a sex God and its honestly the alcohol but I suddenly can’t wait to have him inside me. I run my hands down his tight torso.

Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her closer. His fingers dug into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Sara's hands were just as busy, her fingers tracing the lines of Austin's face, her thumbs brushing against his lips. "I hate you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their kissing. Their lips parted for a moment, and Austin's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Sara's lower lip. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Sara's hands began to roam, her fingers tracing the contours of Austin's chest. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. As she exposed his chest, Austin's eyes locked onto hers, a warning flashing in their depths. "You'll hate me tomorrow," he said, his voice low and rough. Sara's eyes flashed with defiance, her hands continuing to explore Austin's chest. "We don't like each other anyway," she said, her voice husky with desire.

"You heard me, Damon Jones," I replied after a few seconds of silence that was honoured with his confused gaze. "I want us to be together. I want us to have sizzling moments that only you and I would know about. I want us to hold each other, and sweaty as our needs grow. Not once, not twice, but for as long as possible." I surprised myself with the tone of my voice. His hands on his waist, the man scoffed. It was a loud one. After a few seconds of making his feet dance in the very spot he stood, he faced me, the tip of histongue probing the flesh of his upper lip. That was a nice sight. It made my eyes linger on his lips longer than I intended. As my eyes quickly traveled to his wet shirt which exposed the nudity that I keep wondering about, he said, "You must be out of your mind, Selena." ~ In life, mistakes happen. A mistake like taking the wrong file instead of the file that contains your CV and other important documents a job seeker needs to have. But, there's no going back because you have a great job opportunity right in front of you. An opportunity that could vanish before anyone can complete the words, Jack Robinson. And, mistakes can lead to a lot of things. Things you could never imagine would happen in even five lifetimes to come. Like making a dangerous deal with a Mafia Queen... [Mature scenes inclusive]

"Hell Gabby I'm such a douche." "I know." "I'm sorry." What defenses did she think of again? Were they even up in the first place? The dull pounding in her heart had better be the early stages of a heart attack. She moved then. Not to him, but away from the door. Seeing him in the flesh like something molded from her deepest desires and darkest fantasies, wearing a tapered black suit that practically worshipped his tall frame, an unbuttoned shirt that brought awareness to his hard chest and broad shoulders making her wonder how many buttons she had to open to see him in all his glory, she'd seen enough of him to compel her to not think. She was a healthy woman after all. Gabrielle Lot or Gabby as she loved to be called was one of the leading names in the Fashion industry, but she didn't do it in just one day she had to work and fight for it. Even if it meant disappointing her parent. Everything was going on well for her, with the success of her business waxing stronger and her name getting acknowledgment from different spheres of the fashion and business world. It changed when she met the one who broke her heart, Tan. Would she risk her heart being broken again or would she forget about the business proposition brought to her by Tan.

After two years abroad in seclusion as I recovered, I received a selfie from my daughter, Lila Ashford. She was sitting on a bike, dressed in a work uniform. "Mom, you’ll be home soon, right? I miss you so much." My heart softened as I thought about how my girl had grown up. She understood that she needed to start from the bottom and work her way up. I was about to praise her when I noticed her skin seemed tanner, and her fitted shirt was the same one I’d bought her three years ago. It was frayed and worn thin, yet she still hadn’t thrown it away. As a child of the wealthiest family, Lila shouldn’t have to live like this, not even for "life experience". I zoomed in on the picture again. Her shoes were falling apart, the front gaping wide open. The more I looked, the more uneasy I became. The next second, I stumbled across Serena Ashford, my adopted daughter’s posts on social media. She was showing off male models, luxury cars, and on her wrist, the global limited-edition diamond bracelet I had given Lila. What shocked me most was the car that appeared in nearly every photo, the very one I had gifted Lila for her college graduation. How the hell had it ended up with her instead?!

At the Hunting Festival, Cynthia Whitefang flashes a stack of cash and demands that my mate, Simon Fenwick, become her bodyguard. "Just accept it, Layla." Simon flashes his fangs and tells Cynthia to get lost in a rude tone. Our son, Noah Fenwick, who's chronically poisoned by silver, waves his fists angrily as well to chase Cynthia away. But I just stare at the stack of cash quietly. Memories of a conversation I had overheard last week surge into my mind at that moment. That time, Noah was tugging at the hem of Simon's shirt while standing under a tree. "Daddy, can I keep pretending to be poisoned? That way, Mommy will keep giving me money to treat my poison. I wanna buy gifts for Cynthia!" he said coquettishly. Simon had replied dotingly, "Of course! But you must remember to never tell Mommy that I'm not hurt. Only when she's filled with guilt will she love us forever." It turns out that my husband is faking his injury, while my son is faking being poisoned. They've played me like a fiddle the whole time. I, on the other hand, have to risk my life time and again to earn money just to treat their imaginary illness and wounds. To think that all of my earnings are used on pleasing another she-wolf… I raise my head, soon meeting Cynthia's confident gaze. "Okay. You can have him."

My mother-in-law spreads lies about me having contracted an STD during my sister-in-law's wedding. When I hear this, I want to demand an explanation. However, my sister-in-law stops me and begs me to prioritize her happiness since it's her wedding. I hold myself back and wait until the reception is over. Later, my mother-in-law merely sweeps the matter under the rug and say she doesn't remember anything because she was drunk. However, the lies spread like wildfire. My neighbors scorn me, and my colleagues isolate me, treating me like a walking bacteria. I become dispirited from the constant mental distress and end up getting knocked by a car when I leave the house one day. I die from the accident. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my mother-in-law lies about me having contracted an STD.

My college dormmate, who spread nasty rumors about me, sends me an e-invitation. "I'm marrying the richest man in the country and will soon be a trophy wife—I'll be leagues above you. Seeing as we were once dormmates, I'll begrudgingly allow you to be my bridesmaid. Don't miss this chance!" I frown. What is wrong with Jasmine Teach? I'm the country's richest person. When did a man overtake me? I want to block her number and delete the conversation, but I check the e-invitation to be sure. I'm stunned when I see the photo of her husband-to-be. Isn't that Harold Jackson, my husband? He's supposed to be on a business trip. My lips curve in a cold smile, and I type a response while gnashing my teeth. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmaid. I'll prepare a huge surprise for you, too."

Do you like your stories hot, dirty, and dripping with tension? Welcome to SWEET SURRENDER, a collection of short erotic stories that explores the raw, aching edge of submission. Each tale drags you into the dark corners of desire where power isn’t just taken, it’s begged for. Inside these pages, you’ll meet women who ache for control to be stripped away and the men ruthless enough to do it. Expect forbidden temptation, age gaps erotic stories that burn, discipline met with praise, and the filthy high of being watched and used. Some stories will leave you breathless with tenderness. Others? They’ll ruin you, in the best way. If you’ve ever whispered “Yes, Sir,” or spread your thighs on command, this book doesn’t just speak to you. It speaks for you. You're not just reading. You're surrendering. So turn the pages of this book... and give in.