Steamy Historical Romance Novels & Stories

Brenda G ____ That evening, I was sprawled on the bed reading a steamy romance novel which had me heated up, especially the lovemaking scenes. I was clad in a crop top which barely covered my belly and a pair of denim booty shorts. My bouncy hair was lazily crocheted. 'Cepheus hooked his finger at the waistband of her crimson knickers and slid them down her thighs, thus exposing her dampened womanhood. Cleopatra's body temperature spiked the moment Cepheus' finger caressed the sensitive flesh of her womanhood...'

His hands are everywhere now, a blurred map of fire across my skin: * He cupped my breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers. * He traced the curve of my neck and the line of my stomach. * He gripped my hips and squeezed the soft flesh of my ass. I feel like I am literally on fire. But I can't stop him. His lips are so sweet, so smooth—they taste like honey coated in sugar, an overwhelming sweetness that drowns out the bitterness of my past. His tongue tangles with mine again, and that finally shatters the last of my restraints. I am no longer a wife, a victim, or a prisoner. I am just a woman who needs this man.

It was strange that it was only a few days away and she missed that inconsequential historian so much. From the way they looked at each other and kissed each other, it would only be surprising for Miss Brooke that they weren't visibly connected to an intimate reality of their own. Karila moved from the mattress, gripping Lauren's shoulders with determined strength, feeling the historian take her easily in her arms, bringing her into her lap, in an intense, tight snuggle, her hands and fevered skin clinging to each other. Karila's intensity with her firmness, feeling every inch of the princess's body in his hands, traveling his fingers down her thighs through the fabric of the sophisticated a

My hand slid below his waste line just to feel the full length of him, hard as rock. “It’s all yours,” he breathed into my mouth and I just couldn’t control myself. He pulled me in for a deeper kiss while my hand slid below went into his pants, rubbing him slowly. I could feel our heart beat in sync as he began grinding against my hand slowly. I broke the kiss and trailed my lips along his jaw line and then down the sides of his neck, sucking just hard enough to draw soft groans from his mouth. Liam’s head fell back as he bit his lip hard while he was still grinding his hips against my hand. Liam grabbed me by my ass and pulled me closer so I could feel his full length grinding against mine.

His brows furrowed, and just when he's about to go out in the room, Demie came out from the bathroom— on her red silk satin bathrobe that ends on her mid-thighs. Suddenly, the temperature in the room went hot. Sandro can't help himself but gaze upon an exquisite and ravishing woman in red in front of him. From her slightly open mouth that made him lick his lips, and his eyes followed the droplet of water from her wet hair that went to her visible cleavage. Sandro can see her round breasts that are under the bathrobe that made his c*ck screaming. And the mouth-watering sweet scent of Demie is urging Sandro to have a taste of it. And prove that they taste as sweet as they smell. Just by thinki

Genre: Explicitly Steamy Fae Fantasy Romance Female Lead: Deerah Gav, Half-fae, sharp-tongued, former rebel healer Male Lead: Greco Roman, Dark, battle-scarred Prince of the Nightshade Realm, cold and unbending . . . Deerah Gav didn’t bow. Not when the Queen of the Moon Court branded her a traitor. Not when the high fae sorcerers burned her wings into ash for healing humans during the war. And not now, as the obsidian gates of the Nightshade Realm opened with a moan like bone cracking under pressure, revealing a fae prince with blood on his hands and shadows under his eyes.

The other hovered near her hair, trembling with restraint. She hooked her fingers into his waistband and tugged the boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. She gave him a look that was nothing short of worshipful. "Jesus," he breathed as she wrapped her hand around him, her fingers unable to close fully around his girth. He twitched in her grip, hot and heavy, the veins standing out along his shaft. She leaned in and dragged her tongue along the underside, from base to tip, savoring the musky taste of him. When she reached the head, she swirled her tongue slowly around it, lapping up the slick bead of pre-cum.

Joan’s head tipped back on a silent moan, her spine arched into his touch. He caught her head with his free hand, holding her steady as he kissed her again… his tongue stroking into her mouth in slow, deliberate glides that mimicked exactly what she suddenly craved lower down. The hand on her breast drifted south. Fingers skimmed over her ribs, her stomach, until they reached the hem of her dress. He gathered the fabric in his fist and dragged it upward, bunching it at her waist. Cool air kissed her thighs. Joan shivered.

His tongue plunged between my lips, claiming me, tasting me, as if he could devour my very soul. I moaned into his mouth, my body arching against his, my breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest. His hands trembled as they roamed over me, rough and possessive, tearing at the remnants of my gown until the fabric pooled at my feet. I stepped out of it, my bare skin glowing in the firelight, the sheer lace of my undergarments doing little to hide the curves beneath. The chemise was nearly transparent, the swell of my breasts visible through the delicate fabric, the dark peaks of my nipples begging for his touch. The lace between my thighs clung to me, outlining the soft folds of my