Stirred Not Shaken Book Novels & Stories

It brushes the back of my neck and I can feel him right beside me, close enough that his scent wraps around me. My stomach knots. I keep my eyes on the shelves, forcing myself to focus on the rows of titles instead of the way my pulse won’t stop racing. I scan the books until one catches my eye. The title almost makes me laugh, ‘Screwed Up? Here’s Your Reset Button.’ How fitting. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snickering and grab the book fast. “I think I see another one,” he utters, his voice dipping a little lower now. “Up top.”

She glanced back down at the leather-bound book resting on the floorboards beside her. The empty pages seemed to stare up at her, daring her to turn them. With a trembling hand, she picked it up again, the leather warm against her palm. She knew she should get up, should finish unpacking, should do something practical, anything to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. But she couldn't. She was hooked. The anonymous writer had become a guide, a seductress whispering secrets into her ear, and Pinky was a willing student, desperate to learn every lesson.

But when I see the title of the first book on top, I gasp and rush towards it. Absent-mindedly, I sit on the chair and bring it closer to the desk. My hands shake. Why do they shake? I pick the book which makes a bubble of emotions burst in me. "Gone with the wind." by Margaret Mitchell stares right back at me in its red hardcover beauty. My fingers trail each letter of the title as I stare in amazement. I open the book and a note falls from it to the table.

Charlene elbowed him and laughed, "No, I'm not ... don't listen to him." Brian looked puzzled but laughed in his confusion. "We'll see about that," Landon said calmly while drinking his vodka. She gave a sharp look at him, he just smiled and gave her a deep dark stare. She was completely shitfaced after that last glass, she didn't even realize she was leaning on Landon and could barely see anything clearly. Her head was leaning on Landon's face, his arm was over her shoulder. "I don't know what's happening to me," she slurred, he chuckled.

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

He smiles, and starts an email, as she flips through the book looking for the next section that isn’t on fashion. A short while later, and that book is done too. George had also pointed out a couple of other chapters that aren’t relevant anymore. Dinner starts appearing as she dives into the last book, ‘What is this piece of cutlery, and when should I use it?’. It was a glorified picture book. Picture of the cutlery, the use of said cutlery, it’s position on the table, and what it shouldn’t ever be used for as it would be the height of rudeness to do so. Most of it was fairly simple, but the spoon section had her eyes going crossed, and her head starting to ache. She slams the book down on t

**WARNING** This chapter includes extremely sadistic material, including animal play, degrading, and humiliation. It shows why the BDSM lifestyle should be avoided when someone is not sound-minded. He moves quickly, not even answering me. He has me flipped on my stomach instantly, his hands pulling me up from the bed. He lies me on the table, my stomach against it, my boobs hanging over the edge.

Emma turned back to the stove, ass jigglin’ as she moved, and cracked a few more eggs into the big skillet. The smell of fryin’ onions, peppers, and that cheesy egg scramble hit me hard, makin’ my stomach growl even through the headache. She stirred fast, naked body glowin’ under the kitchen lights, sweat on her back from the heat. “Y’all sit y’all asses down. Food almost ready. We eatin’ good before we go back to that club and make these niggas empty they wallets again.”

The title of the book. HOW TO RE-ESTABLISH A MIND LINK. My hand stiffened around the book. For a second, it was as if I wasn't sure of whatever I was holding. So I turned the book slowly in my hand, and then turned it back. And the title was right there, screaming at me in bold letters. My heart began beating fast, even though I didn't really know why. “Re-establish?” I whispered to myself. Is it just me or did my brain not seem to understand what RE-ESTABLISH meant anymore?

But before I left for good, I looked at her over my shoulder and said, “Remember what I said. If we ever meet again, I won’t let you live.” ° ° ° ° ° ° ° I took a deep, calming breath before I inserted the key and unlocked the Book of the Damned. The second I heard the click sound, there was an earthquake. Or at least, I’d thought it was an earthquake until I realized that everything else inside my room was staying perfectly still except for the book and my hands that were holding it. The book was shaking, and I feared that it would burst at any moment. Luckily, the shaking ceased after a few minutes and the cover of the book swung open, revealing the first page.