Stephen King Short Stories Novels & Stories

His shorts. She then brought it out; it was full, hard, and throbbing. She took her time to feel it against her palm; the thought of having such a long and mighty dick inside of her scared the shit out of her, but she was determined, so very much determined to finally have a taste of him. “Rosita!!!” Both of them immediately released each other, jumping up to their feet. Eugene's dick immediately went flaccid and back into its formal nature as he immediately raised his shorts back to his waist. Wondering who it was that had bumped into her house unannounced and without any notification.

I made my way to his room, which was right beside the study, and walked in, searching as fast as I could for a key. I found a bunch of keys in his drawer and decided to try everything until one of them miraculously opened the freaking door. I tried the first key. Nothing. “Stupid key!” I muttered in annoyance and tried the second key, with the same results. There were about sixteen keys in this bunch and none of them were opening the damn door. I stared at the last key in my hand like it was my salvation. Then I pushed it in and turned the lock. Static. It still didn't work. I groaned in frustration and leaned against the door, ready to cry when the door pushed open and I fell in.

“This conversation is weird enough already. You’re our little sister. You don’t need to know what happens in our sex lives.” “First of all, you all are my step-brothers and not that much older than me. Hate to break it to you but I’ve slept with guys older than all of you.” “Excuse me?” Randell said, his gaze narrowing. “Oh yeah. I like older guys. They’re more…experienced if you know what I mean.” “Aww shit, I could’ve went all day not knowing that,” Kingsley groaned, tipping his beer.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

“Oh? Well, get some rest. I won’t disturb you.” He raised a brow. “Did I say you were disturbing me? “ “Why no, but...” “I said you can talk to me as long as you want. So, talk about whatever you want until you get sleepy. I’m all ears.” I smiled. “I appreciate that.” He leaned back in his chair. “How long have you been afraid of c thunderstorms?” “Pretty much all my life. Hell, I don’t even like to drive in them. I’ll pull over on the side of the road and wait it out.”

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************