Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 139 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “Then I’ll have a beer.” He caught the eye of the harried bartender straight away and the woman came right over. Jodi held up two fingers. “Two beers please.” “Sure.” She went to open her purse, and he put his hand over hers. The strength and warmth of it shocked her into stillness. “Don’t worry about it yet. I’ve already set up a tab. We can settle up later.” “Actually, I was going to check my cell.” His grip tightened. “Don’t you remember our deal? No cell phones and no texting. This is our time.” “Okay,” Jodi whispered and waited for him to move away, but instead he picked up her hand and turned it over. “Nice nails.” “I usually keep them short.” Jodi admitted. “But this seemed like a special occasion.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I like a woman scratching my back and digging her claws in my ass.” “Yeah?” She said weakly. His tongue flicked out, and he licked her index finger and then he sucked it gently into his mouth. Jodi wanted to whimper as her nipples tightened until she knew he’d be able to see them through the silk of her top. The arrival of the frosted beer bottles made her jump, and he released her hands. She took a hasty swallow and then watched him drink the whole bottle, the regular motion of his tanned throat just adding to her anticipation. He put the empty down and slowly wiped a hand over his mouth. He gestured at her unfinished beer. “Do you want a glass for that?” “No, I’m fine with the bottle.” A smile kicked up the corner of his beautiful mouth. “Always a nice sight for a man, seeing a woman’s lips locked around the neck of a bottle.” Jodi met his gaze. “And good practice too.” “Yeah,” he glanced over at the packed dance floor, where the music had changed to something slower and sultrier. “Would you like to dance?” “With you?” Jodi couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Yeah, I can dance.” She felt herself blushing as he held out his hand and helped her off her stool. He stayed close so that her whole body came into contact with his, and he steadied her with his hands at her hips. The lights were lower now, and he guided her toward the shadows, one hand riding her waist. Jodi reached up and locked her hands around the back of his neck and breathed in the scent of leather and Calvin Klein aftershave. They moved together to the music, her breasts crushed against his checked shirt, her stomach pressed to the hard ridge of his jean-encased erection. He slid his hands beneath the hem of her skirt and stroked the underside of her ass. “You wearing those red panties for me?” “Yes.” “Good.” He bit down on her ear and she whimpered. “They won’t get in my way then.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Paul grasped her nipples between his thumb and index fingers and gave them a gentle tug. “Yeah? You like that, baby?” Brynn nodded, her nostrils flaring. Tendrils of blond hair escaped their confines to curl around her face. She looked innocent and wanton at the same time. Paul moved his hands lower, following the contours of Brynn’s growing belly. It was round and taut, and he felt the baby kick beneath his touch. They both laughed at that, but this wasn’t about the baby. Paul slipped his hand between Brynn’s legs, lightly stroking her blond pubic curls. “Stop. I hate all that stupid hair,” Brynn said. Paul ignored her and kept stroking her. Before the pregnancy, Brynn had waxed her pubic hair so that she was bare and smooth, but her skin was too sensitive for that now. Paul liked the silky-springy feel of the hair beneath his fingers, and he tugged lightly, watching Brynn’s face as she did. Brynn’s eyes went wide, and she caught her breath. “That’s a strange feeling,” she said. “Good?” Brynn nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Tingly.” Paul smiled. He slipped a finger between the lips of Brynn’s pussy and found her clit. He was rewarded by Brynn’s audible gasp. Paul didn’t go further than that; he simply rested his finger on that sensitive button as he cupped her mound lightly. Staring into Brynn’s eyes, Paul could see the war Brynn fought with herself. Uncomfortable in her own skin, she hadn’t let Paul touch her like this in months. Paul longed to make love to her, but he wouldn’t push her. He would let Brynn decide. Brynn didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. She sunk down in the lukewarm water and covered Paul’s hand with her own. She pressed his finger hard against her pussy, letting out a soft moan when Paul took the lead and rubbed her clit. It was something so simple—hardly the stuff of an earthshaking sexual experience—but Brynn’s acquiescence sent a rush of heat through Paul. He wanted Brynn. Now. He wanted to fuck her the way he had before they’d gotten pregnant. He wanted to feel Brynn’s body grinding against his, both of them slick with sweat and so aroused they couldn’t get enough of each other. He pressed a finger just inside Brynn’s pussy, feeling the heat and wetness there, so different from the tepid bath water. Brynn gasped, gripping Paul’s wrist tightly and wriggling beneath his touch until water splashed over the side of the bathtub. “Easy, baby,” Paul soothed. “I’ll give you what you want.” Brynn looked at him, blue eyes heavy-lidded with lust, her expression one of complete trust. “I know you will.” Paul slid his finger deeper, feeling Brynn’s muscles reflexively tighten around her. “Been practicing your Kegels, I see,” he said. Brynn giggled and nodded. “Yeah.” “Good girl.” Paul slipped another finger inside her wetness, curving them up and forward to rub that rough spot he knew so well. “How’s that?”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  I’ve dragged our favorite giant plush chair, the one I know will hold both of us because I’ve sat in his lap on it plenty of times, from the guest room into our room, and I pull Derek inside and plop him down there. “Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. No touching though; you might get kicked out. I can touch you if I want to though,” I say in a sex-kitten voice I’m not sure I’ve ever used with him or anyone. It seems to come out of me, or rather, Ginger, the girl I’m channeling, the one I imagine has danced for my husband dozens of times. I start up the playlist I’ve created, saving the champagne for later. “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails starts to boom through our elegant bedroom, and I can only hope the loud rock takes him to a slightly more edgy headspace. I lift my leg and place the sole of my five-inch shoe on the edge of the chair. Derek swallows hard. “Sar—,” he tries to say, but I silence him with a finger over my lips. I flash him my bare pussy, then flip the nightie down, put my leg down and turn around. I dance for him, for me, for us. I dance for all the times before I met him when I wish I’d been with him rather than with everyone who came before him. I dance for Trent Reznor, pouring every ounce of myself into the song. Keeping with the theme, “I’m a Slave 4 U” by Britney comes on, and I grab the little purple suede flogger I bought yesterday and whip it all around. I stroke it over my breasts and lash it against my arm. I hold out his palm and strike it against him, smiling as he moans. I slap it against my ass, but when Derek reaches to touch me, I push his hands away. Britney might be a slave for someone, but I’m in charge right now. As the song ends, I toss the flogger on the floor and climb up onto the chair with him, pressing my bare sex directly against him, designer pants be damned. I breathe against his neck, purr into his ear, lick the stubble along his cheek. I sacrifice the nightie and rip the delicate lace at the top so my breasts can spill out as Madonna launches into “Justify My Love.” That’s not exactly what I’m doing right now; I’m not justifying it, I don’t think, I’m exploring it. I’m telling him that he doesn’t have to hide anything from me. I placed my hand on his forehead and stroke downward, and when I lift it, his eyes are closed. That’s when I slide my hand under the bed and unearth the giant Veuve Clicquot Brut Yellow Label bottle I’ve chilled in our freezer. I bring it toward him and hold the frosty glass against his wrist.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  On the contrary, Our Lord said (Jn. 4:13): “Whosoever drinketh of this water, shall thirst again”: where, according to Augustine (Tract. xv in Joan.), water denotes pleasures of the body. I answer that, Pleasure can be considered in two ways; first, as existing in reality; secondly, as existing in the memory. Again thirst, or desire, can be taken in two ways; first, properly, as denoting a craving for something not possessed; secondly, in general, as excluding distaste. Considered as existing in reality, pleasure does not of itself cause thirst or desire for itself, but only accidentally; provided we take thirst or desire as denoting a craving for some thing not possessed: because pleasure is an emotion of the appetite in respect of something actually present. But it may happen that what is actually present is not perfectly possessed: and this may be on the part of the thing possessed, or on the part of the possessor. On the part of the thing possessed, this happens through the thing possessed not being a simultaneous whole; wherefore one obtains possession of it successively, and while taking pleasure in what one has, one desires to possess the remainder: thus if a man is pleased with the first part of a verse, he desires to hear the second part, as Augustine says (Confess. iv, 11). In this way nearly all bodily pleasures cause thirst for themselves, until they are fully realized, because pleasures of this kind arise from some movement: as is evident in pleasures of the table. On the part of the possessor, this happens when a man possesses a thing which is perfect in itself, yet does not possess it perfectly, but obtains possession of it little by little. Thus in this life, a faint perception of Divine knowledge affords us delight, and delight sets up a thirst or desire for perfect knowledge; in which sense we may understand the words of Ecclus. 24:29: “They that drink me shall yet thirst.”

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Objection 2: Further, the heart is the principle of animal movement. But the movement of the heart is not subject to the command of reason: for Gregory of Nyssa [*Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xxii.] says that “the pulse is not controlled by reason.” Therefore the movement of the bodily members is not subject to the command of reason. Objection 3: Further, Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xiv, 16) that “the movement of the genital members is sometimes inopportune and not desired; sometimes when sought it fails, and whereas the heart is warm with desire, the body remains cold.” Therefore the movements of the members are not obedient to reason. On the contrary, Augustine says (Confess. viii, 9): “The mind commands a movement of the hand, and so ready is the hand to obey, that scarcely can one discern obedience from command.” I answer that, The members of the body are organs of the soul’s powers. Consequently according as the powers of the soul stand in respect of obedience to reason, so do the members of the body stand in respect thereof. Since then the sensitive powers are subject to the command of reason, whereas the natural powers are not; therefore all movements of members, that are moved by the sensitive powers, are subject to the command of reason; whereas those movements of members, that arise from the natural powers, are not subject to the command of reason. Reply to Objection 1: The members do not move themselves, but are moved through the powers of the soul; of which powers, some are in closer contact with the reason than are the powers of the vegetal soul. Reply to Objection 2: In things pertaining to intellect and will, that which is according to nature stands first, whence all other things are derived: thus from the knowledge of principles that are naturally known, is derived knowledge of the conclusions; and from volition of the end naturally desired, is derived the choice of the means. So also in bodily movements the principle is according to nature. Now the principle of bodily movements begins with the movement of the heart. Consequently the movement of the heart is according to nature, and not according to the will: for like a proper accident, it results from life, which follows from the union of soul and body. Thus the movement of heavy and light things results from their substantial form: for which reason they are said to be moved by their generator, as the Philosopher states (Phys. viii, 4). Wherefore this movement is called “vital.” For which reason Gregory of Nyssa (Nemesius, De Nat. Hom. xxii) says that, just as the movement of generation and nutrition does not obey reason, so neither does the pulse which is a vital movement. By the pulse he means the movement of the heart which is indicated by the pulse veins.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She propped her feet on the coffee table and he knelt between her legs. He breathed in the scent of her until she thought she’d scream. She tangled her fingers in his hair, but didn’t really tug—it was an old habit with them, almost a joke. She’d urge, but she’d still let him take the lead, make the decision to finally lean all the way in and swipe his tongue across her lips, bury between her folds, nuzzle against her clit. When he finally did, she let out a long sigh, feeling like they had both come home. Then his talented tongue was working its magic, flicking against her swollen bud, stoking the fire. She pressed her head so hard against the back of the sofa that she knew her neck would hurt the next day, but she didn’t care. The scorching spiral toward orgasm wound tighter and tighter, the fire consuming her until she screamed her release. Ethan didn’t give her much time to recover, and she didn’t blame him. He shucked off his pants and underwear, and she saw how hard he was, tasted the moisture that seeped from the tip of his cock. He groaned as she did, but pulled her away a moment later, telling her he needed to be inside her. She had no argument for that. He urged her up, and she knelt on trembling legs to face the back of the sofa. He wasted little time sliding into her, and no matter how long it had been, she welcomed him, knowing now just how much she’d missed him. His hands were full of her breasts as he pushed into her. She felt his thrusts grow staccato, knew he was close. She welcomed that, too, because she was already on edge again herself, from the rake of his cock deep inside her and the pressure of his hands on her nipples. She felt herself clamp down, and then she tumbled into another orgasm, pulsing along the length of him. Dimly she heard his own shout as he came with her. Eventually they roused themselves, although it was largely so Ethan could check whether the bottle of brandy they always tucked into a back cabinet was still there. It was. They sipped and talked, long into the night, long past the three-quarter moon’s shimmer on the water. Eventually they staggered to the bedroom, spread the sleeping bag he’d brought onto the bed, and made love again. Slower, this time, and more bittersweet, perhaps, as Bella cradled his head in her hands and he buried his face in her shoulder as they came. They were roused the next morning not by the stream of sunlight across the bed but the sound of the front door being unlocked. Ethan scrambled into pants and shirt, giving Bella time to dive for the bathroom. She was vaguely amazed she had no hangover. And no heartache.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “I’ve been dying to eat you,” he said gruffly. “I’ve jacked off a dozen times thinking about it. Get comfortable, baby. We’ll be here awhile.” “I have meetings to attend!” she protested. “I can’t—oh, god!” The first stroke of his tongue stole her wits. It was a soft, slow lick that fired every sensitive nerve ending. The next pass was more deliberate, working her clit with the ball of his barbell piercing. His groan vibrated against her, making her pussy spasm in want of his cock to fill it. Her hands fisted the comforter. “You’re so sweet,” he praised hoarsely, his hands sliding down to her inner thighs. “Your cunt is so soft.” A soft noise escaped her. His mouth sealed over her clit in a heated circle, his pierced tongue fluttering over the hard knot with devastating strokes. Her hips moved without her volition, thrusting and rocking as she chased another orgasm. In her past, she’d been lucky to come once with a partner. With Paul, the more he touched her, the more sensitized she became. Each climax came quicker than the one before it until she was coming in rolling waves that seemed to have no end or beginning. “Fuck me with your tongue,” she gasped, draping one leg over his powerful shoulder to urge him closer. Her back arched as he obliged her, teasing her quivering slit with shallow thrusts. Gripping his overlong hair, she rode his mouth, shameless in the extremity of her need. She’d watched people dismiss Paul out of hand because of his appearance. Those who clung to stereotypes saw mobile homes and biker gangs when they looked at him. They couldn’t see past the stubble-shadowed jaw and visible tattoos. But beneath the body jewelry, ink, and shaggy hair was a gorgeous face that was classical in its lines and features. Paul could have graced an ancient coin or inspired a statue in a temple, and he was far wealthier than people would ascertain from his laid-back style. Cupping her buttocks, he lifted her hips and tilted his head. His tongue pushed deeper, and her pussy clutched helplessly around the rhythmic impalement. Robin squeezed her aching breasts inside her bra, pinching her nipples to ease their tightness. Her hips churning restlessly, she begged, “Make me come.” Latching on, he kissed her pussy, drawing softly with gentle suction while he rubbed her clit with his tongue. She cried out and fell apart beneath his avid and tender mouth, her body melting into a boneless, breathless, teary puddle on his bed. “I love you.” He pushed to his feet and tossed the condom in the trash. “You love fucking me,” she whispered, knowing that when the passion was sated and reality intruded, he would withdraw again as he’d done before. Paul leaned over her, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of her waist. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Yep, turning down beds was right up her alley. “Of course, sir,” she purred. “Naked.” The pulse of arousal that blasted her core nearly brought her to her knees—not that the vantage of her face level with his crotch would have been unwelcome, but she still wanted to keep some level of dignity. “After you, sir,” she said, her throat dry even as her cunt continued to slick. He grinned, a lopsided expression that constricted her heart. He put his arm around her waist and walked to the elevator. Joanna glanced at the front desk. Martin, the college kid they’d hired that spring, was staring at her as if she were a three-headed alien. All she could do was smile. Tom’s room was on the top floor. They had the elevator to themselves and, when the doors closed, their bodies merged. His mouth devoured her, tongue insistent, hot, demanding, tangling with hers, suppressing it, dominating it even as she grappled with him, losing herself in the sensations his kiss invoked. She felt the heat of his body in one long, glorious line of firm muscle and strength. His cock pressed hard into her thigh, and she could not wait to have it in her. He pushed her against the back of the elevator, pulling up her skirt, greedy fingers stroking her thighs, finding her panties, and sliding beyond the thin lace to her soaked pussy. He groaned, his kiss deepening further, and Joanna answered his arousal by gripping his ass, longing for the firm flesh to be free of his trousers. Boxers or briefs, what would it be? The chime rang almost mute beneath their panting and groping, but when the doors opened, Joanna moaned against Tom’s mouth, pushing him toward the gate, closer to fulfillment. His fingers circled her clit. The suction of the kiss broke as she pushed him, grinding her hips against his hand, gasping for air. He stepped back, their dance made of steps banned by Arthur Murray. His heel caught on the metal lip of the elevator as they stumbled back, balance completely lost until his thighs hit the back of the sofa in the elevator landing. Golden wallpaper with subtle fleur-de-lis appliqués rose to a ceiling dominated by a tasteful, frosted light fixture. Several other upholstered chairs, end tables, and two huge vases filled with fresh flowers furnished the little lobby. He spun, a final effort to save both of them a tumble over the couch back. When Joanna’s butt hit the top of the sofa she welcomed the full weight of him, the momentum of their fall pressing him harder into her.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Oh, my God. Our full-length reflections gazed back at us from the long sheet of glass. My head rested against Eric’s shoulder, his face visible next to mine, my chest arched forward displaying my bare breasts where he toyed with my nipples. I balanced on my heels as his other hand slowly teased my skirt up, over my thighs, over the tops of my stockings. Higher. “Christ.” Eric’s hand shook as he raised the shimmering red silk past the lace-framed, neatly trimmed thatch guarding my pussy lips. His fingers spread the sopping lace, slid between the slick, swollen folds, through the glistening dark pink slit to delve deep into my pussy. “Fuck. Now! I need you now! Lift up.” I did, yanking my dress out from under me. Eric braced himself with one hand. He put the other on my waist, gently guiding me down onto his shaft. “Fuck!” he growled. Hot. Full. He filled me so perfectly. The thick girth of his shaft was stretching me, filling me as I’d needed to be filled for so very long. I mewled with pleasure, my hands stretched over my head, my fingers gripping his hair as he rocked his hips beneath me. “I’m gonna come,” he panted, his body arching up, his cock surging deep as he wrapped his arms around me. “Dammit! I’m gonna come!” With one hand, he spread my pussy lips. With the other, he rubbed his finger over my clit in the most delicious, most intense circles of my entire life. I screamed as I came, my pussy muscles gripping and squeezing him in glorious, rhythmic spasms of sheer ecstasy as he roared and bucked up into me. My pussy juice squirted over his hand and I screamed again, clenching him ferociously as he surged and thrust his cock harder, deeper into me. And he stayed hard. My whole body was trembling as his fingers kept stroking, driving me right back up. “Again,” he growled. “Rock your hips against me.” I did, shuddering as his cock pressed back and forth inside me, deep and hard into places that were orgasms waiting to happen. “I want to come again,” I panted, grinding against him. “You will, baby,” he laughed, “as often as you want.” He moved his hand up to my nipples, cupping them and squeezing the hard buds between his thumbs and forefingers. “Use your beautiful, strong legs to lift up on those gorgeous heels, just a little bit.” He shuddered as I lifted. “Not too far. That’s it. Just enough so we’re both feeling your luscious, hot pussy riding my cock.” It felt good. Oh, God, it felt so good! “P-put your f-fingers, on my c-clit,” I panted, clenching my pussy muscles around him, squeezing as I lowered myself, squeezing again as I raised back up.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  I glanced at Tim, just as Teresa held a piece of cake out to him, and watched my husband take the cake in his mouth. It was like slow motion: his lips closing over her fingertips, his eyes on her face, her smile as she slowly withdrew from his mouth. I kept waiting to be angry, to be jealous, to want to send them both out in the storm. But all I felt was a rush between my legs, my heart pounding, and my breath coming in short quick inhalations. I was so turned on it wasn’t even funny. Right then I knew what I wanted to do. I’d never done it before, didn’t even quite know how, but I wanted us all to fuck. Fuck all night long. Fuck till the storm broke. Teresa looked at me with an obvious question in her eyes. Could she? I nodded and tilted my head at Tim. “Go ahead, I want to watch for awhile.” I was startled at my own words. Even when by myself I’d always had to look at porn a sideways manner. Nope, I’m not really watching this. But that damn phone better not ring! Now, there I was, watching it live. And even though they’d only just started kissing, I was already soaking through my pants. He reached out and cupped her breast, rubbed his palm on her nipple. She arched and sighed, running her hands up and down his cross-legged thighs. I knew his cock must be straining against his jeans. I wanted to touch it. I wanted her to touch it. She kissed his neck, kissed the stubble he hadn’t shaved off that morning. My lips knew what her lips were feeling as they traced his throat. I wanted to know her lips. A little unsteadily, I crawled to them. The champagne had definitely had the proper effect, and I giggled as I reached them. Teresa smiled and reached for my hair. Straight, brown, and unremarkable hair, but as soon as she wrapped her fingers in it, I felt incredibly sexy. She pulled me toward her, and our lips met. I wanted to put everything on pause so I could study this new texture, concentrate on the different taste. But her tongue was in my mouth and her hand on my breast, and I could not think anymore. I felt another hand, Tim’s, on the other breast, and I reached for each of them. Literally shivering with desire, I opened my eyes and gazed at Tim. Saw the lust in his eyes. And not just lust for Teresa, but lust for me, something I’d not seen in awhile.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  I do it barefoot and in heels, and I get used to bending over, flashing myself, running my hands over my body. I’m flushed and filled with a new kind of sexual energy by the time I’m done. I slip into the deep peach silky nightie and start to curl my hair. Even though I plan to shake it all over, I have an hour to kill and want to make sure I look stunning for him. I want to make sure Derek knows how much I want him, not just tonight, but always, how much I’d do for him, with him, to him. The curling iron heats up quickly, and in only a few minutes my hair looks elegant. I pin some of it up and let the warm curls fall around my neck. Normally I’m a lip gloss and maybe dash of blush kind of girl; my weekly manicures and pedicures are my big concession to glamour. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t raided Sephora a few times, and I discover a treasure trove of barely used makeup. Though I don’t wear it often, I didn’t grow up with two older sisters and walk away not knowing how to do a perfect smoky eye. I layer on the liquid liner, then a glittery purple shadow, then add false eyelashes I’ve been saving for a special occasion. This damn well better qualify. I lotion myself up then prance around the house in my favorite heels as I try not to touch myself again. That would deprive Derek of the sex-starved, nympho side of me. When I hear his keys jingling in the door, I compose myself. I’m the good wife gone bad, and a quick glance in the hallway mirror confirms I look the part. He starts to say, “I’m home,” but stops at “I’m” when I walk toward him and give him a big hug. Is it me, or does he look even hotter than when he left? “Honey, I...” He just stands there with his jaw open, unable to say anything else. “How was the bachelor party?” I ask. “It was fun,” he says with a cautious note in his voice as he looks around. “Am I...interrupting something?”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  The more I think about it, the more turned on I am, the momentary flickers of jealousy fading into a throbbing deep inside. I wonder if she teased him, running her finger along his cheek, or maybe his arm, or even, if she were the extra-naughty type, along his cock, knowing he couldn’t touch her. That’s what I would do if I were in her incredibly tall, probably clear Lucite shoes. The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t just want to see the girl shaking her moneymaker for my man; I want to be that girl in all her hedonistic glory. I keep these visions to myself, though, because I’m still not quite sure what to make of them. I chat with him nonchalantly, and smile as best I can, but as soon as Derek leaves for his boys’ weekend, I’m not sure what to do. Tell a friend? Get wasted? Go to a strip club full of men myself? More than anything, I wish I were there with him, watching him, enjoying his sexy fun by proxy. Since joining him is not an option, I settle on that last option in my mind, then go into our bathroom, strip, and stare at myself in the full-length mirror. I start to preen, then realize something is missing, and race into my closet to peruse my shoe rack, which is organized by height, from tallest to lowest, stripper shoes to kitten heels. Today definitely calls for stripper shoes, and I select the highest pair, six-inch stunners that I’ve never worn outdoors. They were sort of a joke when I bought them, but when I slip my naked, thirty-five-year-old feet into them, I’m not laughing. I’m plotting. Because more than anything, I want to know what it was like for Derek in the champagne room. I want to feel like I’m a part of it, even though that’s his past. But isn’t the point of marrying someone to merge past with present with future, to become, as best as two people can, one? No, I haven’t asked him about every previous relationship, and he hasn’t asked me, but I love the way I can be telling a story about something that happened in high school, a decade before I met him, and he’ll finish it for me like he was there. He’ll remind me of things I’d not only forgotten I’d told him, but just plain forgotten.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Slowly, so slowly Brynn closed her eyes and whimpered with the anticipation, Paul drew his fingers out again. He could feel Brynn’s pussy ripple against his fingers, trying to hold them inside, trying to get off. Paul pushed his fingers back inside Brynn, stroking her swollen clit with his thumb. Brynn nearly came out of the bathtub at that, shrieking as she gripped the edge of tub. “I guess you like that,” Paul muttered, doing it again. “You’re driving me crazy.” With his fingers buried inside Brynn’s wetness, Paul kept rubbing his thumb against her clit. “I know the feeling. Know what I want, baby?” Brynn’s eyes fluttered opened and she tried to focus on Paul’s face. “Hmm?” Paul stilled his thumb on her clit. “I want you to tell me you’re beautiful.” Brynn jerked against him. “What?” “Tell me you’re beautiful,” Paul repeated, emphasizing his words with a wiggle of his fingers. “Tell me how beautiful you are.” Brynn stared at him, as if he’d asked for something perverse. “Don’t tease me like that,” she whispered. Paul stroked her pussy again, building a back-and-forth rhythm inside Brynn that caused a wave to lap up against the swell of Brynn’s rounded belly. “Oh, the water feels good,” Brynn moaned, rocking against Paul’s hand so the water sloshed over her again. “Tell me,” Paul repeated. “You’re beautiful. Tell me and I’ll make you come so hard, baby.” Brynn whimpered again, eyes closed and head thrown back. She was close to orgasm, Paul could tell by the way her pussy tightened on his fingers. He kept finger-fucking her, driving his fingers deep into her, reveling in the way Brynn’s body held him inside. “You’re beautiful, baby,” he said. “Beautiful and fucking sexy and I can’t wait to get you out of that tub and spread you across the bed so I can make you come again and again.” His litany of words aroused him as much as they were intended to arouse Brynn. His cock ached to be touched, licked, sucked, and enveloped by Brynn’s sweet pussy, but this was about Brynn and making her feel good. Making her feel as beautiful as she looked. Paul stilled his fingers once again. “Tell me, baby. You know you’re beautiful, all soft and round and fuckable. Tell me.” “Please,” Brynn moaned. “Make me come.” Paul gently rubbed Brynn’s G-spot, feeling the swollen, spongy surface against his fingertips. “I will, baby. Just tell me.” With his thumb on Brynn’s clit and his fingers inside, Paul fucked her slowly.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Justin rubbed her with his tool, like a big, swollen finger, claiming her there first. She was so wet, his penis slipped over her slick flesh with a faint, slurping sound. “Please, take me,” she choked out. On the next stroke, he guided his cock to her hole and buried himself to the hilt. They groaned in unison. He began to move, slowly, pressing tight against her to give her the friction she needed. “You belong to me now and I’m going to make you come,” he hissed in her ear. Another gush of wetness glazed the crack of her ass. Justin’s balls slapped against her cleft as he drove into her, stimulating the tender flesh. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. Tying the knot—those words had scared her, confused her, but that’s just how Sophie felt now, deliciously tied and tangled, her legs twisted around his ass, a knot of lust throbbing low in her belly. With each thrust, Justin seemed to push deeper, conquering unknown territory. Because no one had ever touched her this way before, not even the sweet Justin she’d watched sleeping that very morning. No one had ever opened her so completely—her cunt, her heart, her head all at once—to expose yearnings secret even to herself. “Come for me, Sophie,” he panted. “I order you to come right now.” Dutiful wife that she was, she bucked up against him—one, two, three more times—and then she was coming, wracking spasms that burst from her throat in a shriek. Justin planted his hands on the bed and reared up, his hips pounding her like a porn star as he announced his own climax with a series of low grunts. He fell forward and they clutched each other, their bodies still heaving. They were so close she could feel his heart pounding in her own chest. “I’m not sure what came over me just now,” Justin confessed. “I hope that lord-and-master talk wasn’t a mistake.” “No way. I think I left a wet spot on this bed the size of California.” She moved her lips to his ear and added in a whisper, “You bossy bastard. That was super hot.” “You’re hot, baby. God, I’m lucky. I have the sexiest wife in the world.” He rolled onto his back and they snuggled together, her head on his shoulder, their legs twined together. Sophie smiled. She had made a terrible mistake—spending the whole day worrying her sex life would be ruined by a piece of paper. But tonight she learned it could be a passport to new possibilities. ANOTHER TRICK UP MY SLEEVE Heidi Champa “Are you sure about this, Daisy?” “Yeah, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” His arms were fixed to the bed frame with two old ties, and I was decked out in the vinyl outfit I had hand-picked with his specifications in mind.

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  The way he said it, his jaw tightening like he’d turn me over his knee if I didn’t move fast enough, had me inching my way up until I squatted over his face, reaching up to curl my fingers over the edges of an overhead cabinet for balance. Fingers parted me. He inhaled and gripped my ass in both hands and moved me slightly until my pussy made contact with his mouth. His lips latched onto me, sucking one side then the other, releasing me with moist pops that had me blowing out breaths in short, hard streams through pursed lips because it felt so damn good, so foreign. Like a dream come true because I’d imagined what it might be like and now it was happening. Danny Echo was eating me out. He gave long soothing strokes of his tongue and short ones that flickered over my soft wet edges. Then he hardened the point to flutter at my clit. I couldn’t hold still and began to rock in short glides, guided by his hands as I moved forward and back. I gave a moan when he rubbed his tongue harder over the swollen knot, burgeoning at the top of my folds and held still while he laved it over and over again. “God, Danny, that’s good.” “Like it?” “Oh, yeah.” He gave my sex a loud smacking kiss, slapped my ass, and pushed me down his body. I heard a tear, the slick snap of latex, and then he rolled, fitting me under him and thrusting his arms beneath my knees to lift my ass. “Put me inside you.” Both hands gripped his shaft, and he rocked forward. I aimed him right at my entrance, felt the nudge of his broad, round cap, and let go, bracing a hand against the wall and clutching the notch of his hip with the other as he entered me. He was large. Perfect. Pushing gently upward, crowding through wet, swollen tissue that hadn’t felt the stretch of a cock in good long time. Air hissed between my teeth, and I turned away my face. “No,” he said softly. “You wanted this. You have to watch.” He reached and hit a light switch. The overhead glared down, exposing us both to the harsh, bright light. I covered my breasts but couldn’t help looking down to where our bodies joined. He pulsed inward, halted, and then pulled out. His shaft glistened with my juices. He slid his fingers around the base of his cock and squeezed. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll blow.” A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, and I knew I must have looked like the kitten licking up all the cream. I was the one who had his body so tight and hard that his belly shivered. “Angela,” he ground out. “Fuck.” He released his grip, angled his cock just right, and slammed up my pussy.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He held her open with his hands on the backs of her thighs, his gaze riveted to her intimate flesh. “I’ve been dying to eat you,” he said gruffly. “I’ve jacked off a dozen times thinking about it. Get comfortable, baby. We’ll be here awhile.” “I have meetings to attend!” she protested. “I can’t—oh, god!” The first stroke of his tongue stole her wits. It was a soft, slow lick that fired every sensitive nerve ending. The next pass was more deliberate, working her clit with the ball of his barbell piercing. His groan vibrated against her, making her pussy spasm in want of his cock to fill it. Her hands fisted the comforter. “You’re so sweet,” he praised hoarsely, his hands sliding down to her inner thighs. “Your cunt is so soft.” A soft noise escaped her. His mouth sealed over her clit in a heated circle, his pierced tongue fluttering over the hard knot with devastating strokes. Her hips moved without her volition, thrusting and rocking as she chased another orgasm. In her past, she’d been lucky to come once with a partner. With Paul, the more he touched her, the more sensitized she became. Each climax came quicker than the one before it until she was coming in rolling waves that seemed to have no end or beginning. “Fuck me with your tongue,” she gasped, draping one leg over his powerful shoulder to urge him closer. Her back arched as he obliged her, teasing her quivering slit with shallow thrusts. Gripping his overlong hair, she rode his mouth, shameless in the extremity of her need. She’d watched people dismiss Paul out of hand because of his appearance. Those who clung to stereotypes saw mobile homes and biker gangs when they looked at him. They couldn’t see past the stubble-shadowed jaw and visible tattoos. But beneath the body jewelry, ink, and shaggy hair was a gorgeous face that was classical in its lines and features. Paul could have graced an ancient coin or inspired a statue in a temple, and he was far wealthier than people would ascertain from his laid-back style. Cupping her buttocks, he lifted her hips and tilted his head. His tongue pushed deeper, and her pussy clutched helplessly around the rhythmic impalement. Robin squeezed her aching breasts inside her bra, pinching her nipples to ease their tightness. Her hips churning restlessly, she begged, “Make me come.” Latching on, he kissed her pussy, drawing softly with gentle suction while he rubbed her clit with his tongue. She cried out and fell apart beneath his avid and tender mouth, her body melting into a boneless, breathless, teary puddle on his bed. “I love you.” He pushed to his feet and tossed the condom in the trash. “You love fucking me,” she whispered, knowing that when the passion was sated and reality intruded, he would withdraw again as he’d done before.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Prayed he would. And he did, taking her hands in his. “The blissful haze of memory,” he said. “We’re both way too stubborn. You’d think the marriage counselor could have gotten this conversation out of us, but no…” She freed one hand and picked up her coffee. The caffeine wasn’t helping the dizzy rush in her head from the wine and the conversation. “Do you remember,” Ethan said, “the first night we stayed here?” “You mean when we couldn’t even make it to the bedroom?” He nodded. His eyes never leaving hers, he took the mug from her hand and set it back on the table. She didn’t let him lean all the way in to kiss her. She met him halfway. The kiss was tentative, which was so unlike him that she almost drew back. But the taste of him, which she’d almost forgotten until now and had never stopped missing, was almost too much to bear, and she couldn’t pull away. It was that, she guessed, that emboldened him. When she responded, his touch grew more sure. He drew her in and she went willingly, the feel of his tongue against hers triggering the warm glow of arousal that she knew would soon smolder, ignite, and finally consume her. So familiar, and yet so foreign. Each step along the unlit path brought back hints of remembrance, like sweet déjà vu. She traced his biceps, ran her hands down his back, feeling the muscles flex. He bit gently on her lower lip, and she gasped, the thrill streaking down between her legs. She was already wet, wetter even than when she’d masturbated earlier. His touch had always done that to her. How had she gone so long without this? He grazed his teeth along the line of her throat as she plucked at his shirt buttons. She didn’t get all of them, but she couldn’t wait any longer, splaying her hands across his smooth chest, lightly tracing her nails over his nipples until he groaned. He took one of her hands and guided it down to his crotch, pressing her palm against the bulge there, showing her just how excited she made him. Her clit shivered in response. Fleetingly, she wondered where this was leading. Oh, to sex, obviously, but wasn’t sex with your ex supposed to be anathema? Tacky, even? (Not that he was her ex just yet, but as good as.) She ignored that thought, pushed away all thoughts. They didn’t matter. What mattered was his hands and lips and tongue on her, and her hands and teeth on him, and the need they shared. He tugged her shirt free and pulled it over her head, and by the time he’d tossed it away she had already made good headway toward removing her bra, popping the front hook and shrugging out of it. His eyes were dark in the candle flame, but she could imagine the hunger in them before he dipped his head to suckle.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He was half on top of me, kissing me deep on the mouth. His fingers danced over my taut nipple, barely grazing over it. His hand seemed so big gripping my hip, pulling me close. My hands cradled his face as I tried to hold on to the moment for as long as I could. I ran my finger over his mouth, and he caught it between his lips, sucking it into his mouth. My stomach rolled over, and a new wash of heat ran through me. His face dropped from my hands, and he kissed down my neck. Every inch of my skin caught on fire, each little kiss, lick starting a new blaze. I clawed at his hair, urging him forward, pushing him further down my body. But, again, Blake would not be rushed. His mouth again latched on to my nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, flicking it over and over with his tongue. Arching my back, I tried to get more. All I could think was that I needed more. More of anything that Blake wanted to give to me. The heat of his mouth was joined by his slow, tracing fingers moving up my thigh. I could feel the gentle tremble of my leg under his touch every time he got nearer to my pussy. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding my most sensitive skin, teasing me with little touches everywhere else. He pushed my legs apart, and I felt his fingers moving closer and closer to my cunt. Moans were escaping my throat, his mouth moving back and forth over my nipples, teasing one and then the other until I was ready to scream. “Blake, I can’t take much more of this.” “Just a little bit longer, I promise.” His mouth covered mine, stopping any more words from getting out. His finger had finally found my slick heat, and my hard clit was sliding under his soft touch. The small circles teased my clit until I found my hips moving along, trying to get Blake to go faster. But, he kept going at the maddeningly slow pace, his eyes watching my face. “God, you are so beautiful when you are excited, do you know that?” I could only manage to shake my head no, as no words were possible at that moment. His words were tearing at my brain, making my chest flush with renewed heat. His finger slipped down past my clit and entered me, opening my pussy up for the first time. The flat of his palm grazed my clit, with each slide in and out. “Open your eyes. Please, Daisy, open your eyes.” I could barely stand it, but I did. His green eyes shone back at me, intense and sparkling. “Blake, please, I need you.”

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  Jodi met his gaze. “And good practice too.” “Yeah,” he glanced over at the packed dance floor, where the music had changed to something slower and sultrier. “Would you like to dance?” “With you?” Jodi couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Yeah, I can dance.” She felt herself blushing as he held out his hand and helped her off her stool. He stayed close so that her whole body came into contact with his, and he steadied her with his hands at her hips. The lights were lower now, and he guided her toward the shadows, one hand riding her waist. Jodi reached up and locked her hands around the back of his neck and breathed in the scent of leather and Calvin Klein aftershave. They moved together to the music, her breasts crushed against his checked shirt, her stomach pressed to the hard ridge of his jean-encased erection. He slid his hands beneath the hem of her skirt and stroked the underside of her ass. “You wearing those red panties for me?” “Yes.” “Good.” He bit down on her ear and she whimpered. “They won’t get in my way then.” His callused thumb moved higher, tracing the lace between her ass cheeks, and Jodi closed her eyes as her knees threatened to give way. He could still do it to her. One touch and she was like warm flowing honey in his hands. The music changed to another slow song, and he bent his head and took possession of her mouth, his tongue thrusting deep as he penetrated her sex with one long finger. She gasped into his mouth but couldn’t escape him, her body way too eager to accept his penetration in any way she could get it. When he finally lifted his head she could only stare up at him in mute appeal. He took her hand and started toward the restrooms. “Come on.” He didn’t stop until they’d exited the back door of the bar and veered to the left. Jodi found herself in a small yard filled with barrels and crates of empty bottles. He backed her up against the nearest wall, his gaze hungry and determined, his hands all over her. “I can’t wait. I want to fuck you right now.” Jodi moaned as he rucked up her skirt to her waist, cupped her ass, and lifted her against the thick wedge of his cock. The denim felt harsh against her swollen wet folds, but she didn’t care as he ground himself against her. “You want this? You want my cock?” Jodi nodded. “Then take it out so I can fuck you right here against the wall.”

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  I put my hand on his arm and said, “Valet. Now.” He whipped the wheel to the left and into the circle in front of the main entrance. I released my seat belt, braced my hand on his thigh, and leaned over him until my lips were just above his. “I love you, too. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’m out of my fucking mind, but it’s true, and I’m scared to death. Take me upstairs and make love to me until I’m not afraid anymore.” I fell back in the seat, shaking like a leaf. If I looked anything like he did, the valet was getting one hell of an education in what “deer in the headlights” looked like. “Fair enough,” he choked. And tripped trying to get out of the car without taking his seatbelt off. I don’t remember getting to the elevator. I was in his arms when the door closed, our tongues tangling coffee and mint-laced kisses as he ground his erection into my belly. “Security cameras,” he gasped as he came up for air. I wrapped my leg around him, the wet silk of my dress rubbing against my pussy. “Don’t care.” Then we were kissing again. The bell dinged and he broke free, panting as the elevator door opened. He pulled me down the empty hall, pressing me against the wall as he slid the keycard through the slot. Suddenly his hand was beneath the back of his jacket, the butt of a gun showing at his waist. “Wait here.” He ducked quickly inside, scanning the room, checking the bathroom and under the bed before he pulled me in behind him. Then he shoved the door closed and threw all the locks. “What the hell is your job!” I demanded. I was shocked to realize I didn’t really care. I just wanted to know. “FBI, fifteen years,” he growled, tearing his jacket off, throwing it onto the nightstand. He stripped off the weapon harness, checked the safety, and tossed it down on his jacket. “Are you okay with that?” “It’s better than blowing up crap in the desert,” I sighed. “I’ll still worry. Are you okay with that?” “Yup. I’m not doing as much field work these days. I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. It’s a lot more than we could, back then.” Eric was looking out the window, still breathing hard, his gaze calculating. He pulled a straight-backed chair out from the desk and set it in front of the window. I have no idea where the condom came from, but there was one on the seat of the chair. He turned on a low light in front of the window and held out his hand to me. “I want to see you this first time. Really see you.