Novel & Cerita Victorian Romance

I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews. Most of my stories were about older women with guys my age and Miss Ross had been the inspiration for many of them. Most of my female leads had the same long dark hair, big brown eyes and perfect full lips as my favorite English teacher. Yes Miss Ross had been the nasty little cougar in my mind and in print many times over the last few months. Shit, I'd even joined her writing discussion group because it met every other Sunday at her house.

But fortunately, he broke off the engagement quickly, and the thought of being married to such a loose woman turned his stomach. But that didn't mean he had gotten over the fact that she had betrayed him! He still wanted revenge for what she had done to him. “Victoria, have you taken up with a rich guy?” Bruno grabbed Victoria's wrist and looked at the woman's beautiful face. Beautiful women were nothing but trouble. “Is that what you're doing now? Prostitution?” “Leave me alone! “Victoria hated insults to her person, and Bruno's words instantly infuriated her. She tried to pull her wrist free.

I repeated what was in my head. Victoria scoffed. “Of course she said that. She also probably says she doesn't pee, poop, or fart. And that makes her full of shit.” I almost laughed. Victoria stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Loraine, God may shake the earth sidewards or up and down, but baby, you're far better than that frog leaping on your husband.” I sighed heavily. “You’re just saying that.” “No,” she said firmly. “I know you from head to toe, and I know the kinds of her, because I've encountered a lot of different people, even worse. And I also know the difference between a man who wants a woman… and a man who wants to run away.”

Down my stomach. And I felt nothing. Nothing. We used to burn together. Victoria and I used to be fire in the bedroom. danger and lust and violence all twisted into one. She used to know exactly where to touch, exactly how to break me. But now? Her touch was dead on my skin. “I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured, voice breaking just a little. “You’ve always been the man I wanted.” "And Vance? What is he? Just the guy you use to steal my company?"

He grimaced, a part of him somewhat fulfilled she was staring at him, with eyes looking like they would ravage him at any second. Victoria frowned, “Don’t flatter yourself. I only had eyes for your brother. I still do.” His brow arched, “And I like my women a little whorish. You can ask my mother.” Whorish. The tone in his voice almost made it feel like he was making fun of her. She was no whore but she also wasn’t an innocent Becky at the same time. She’d been with a bunch of men before her arranged marriage to Maximof. She wasn’t the prude he thought her to be.

"This perfume contains old magic. One kiss and your mate bond would... loosen enough for us to explore possibilities." I surged to my feet, truly angry now. But Victoria had anticipated this, too. She deliberately lost her balance at my movement, falling against my chest with practiced grace. Her free hand caught his neck, trying to pull me down while the other raised the vial. "Just one kiss," she whispered. "Then you'll see—"

You’ll still be busy, you’ll be keeping my bed warm too. ‘Stop right there, buster. Marriage or not, I won’t be blackmailed like this. I will need to work,’ she assured him, staring rebelliously up into his dark bitter-chocolate eyes. Alexis touched her cheek with the back of his hand, and said, ‘Then we can discuss the finer details of your career later. This evening is for romance.’ He touched the nape of neck, ninning his finger down and over her collarbone, the hidden promise filtering through his rich deep voice. ‘Or had you forgotten?’

“Because it’s raw. It’s not romantic, it’s obsession, the ache that overtakes you, the pain that feels necessary. It mirrors real life, doesn’t it?” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was gone in an instant, but she had seen it. “Yes. But you stop at the surface. You describe the ache, the longing, but why? What does it say about Keats, about the society he inhabits and about you?” The question was so personal that it stole the air from her lungs. “About me?” “Yes,” he said, leaning back again. “Why this particular flame, Scarlett? What is it you recognize in that kind of all-consuming, self-destructive hunger?”

He must have been suspicious of her cunning schemes. “To generosity,” she began, her voice smooth as honey. “And to those who truly give… from the heart.” She paused, eyes sweeping the room, then landing on me with lethal precision. “Because some people, well…” Her lips curved into a wicked smile. “…some people take from their wallets.” A ripple of uncomfortable laughter broke out. I froze, heat creeping up my neck. Victoria tilted her head, pretending innocence. “Oh, come on. We all know love is expensive, but isn’t it romantic? Trading vows for villas… kisses for credit cards.” She looked at me directly now. “Cheers to marrying well.”

“You know, you talk about him differently now. And you talk about him a lot.” Victoria frowned and denied it quickly. “I do not.” Julie shook her head slowly. “You do. In fact, you smile when you talk about him.” “That’s just your overactive imagination.” She countered. Julie ignored her. “I’ve written enough romance novels. And read even more.” Victoria immediately knew where this conversation was heading. “Oh no.” Julie nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes.” She began counting on her fingers. “Contract marriage. Cold billionaire. Independent female lead. They’re forced to live together.”