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 143 of 344 · 20 per page

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She waited patiently as he checked in, and before he turned away from front desk, she’d stepped into his path, her skirt standard uniform, her blouse sheer to show off the embroidered bustier under the black silk. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes.” He looked as though he meant his words as he took Joanna’s arm, gripping it in friendly possession as he kissed first her check and then her lips, a warm but chaste kiss. “And here I am—just for you,” Joanna returned the kiss. “I’ve learned over my years in Guest Services that the best way to find out what a customer wants is to ask directly.” She pressed tight against Thomas, unconcerned about the desk clerk who mechanically finished processing Tom’s reservation. “What do you want, sir?” she whispered against his ear. She absorbed the stiffness of his body. The awkward words would come any second, the no’s and stumbled, polite dismissals, the adjustment of the distance between them. Maybe he’d say he really liked her as a friend and that sex would ruin things. Maybe he’d confess to being married/engaged/seeing someone, or—she grinned against his shoulder—he’d tell her regretfully that he was gay. The rejection would come, but it would be all right. She’d taken the chance. He pulled her closer, and she imagined his comfortable business mind melting and mixing into goo as her pussy pressed against his thigh, and…his cock stiffened. “I want you ,” he whispered against her ear. She blinked, her bones suddenly marble, her skin the thinnest sheet of breath that burst into hot sensation where his fingers held her against him. That was a yes—he’d said yes. That wasn’t supposed to happen! Could she unbury the condoms in less than 2.6 seconds, and what the hell did this mean in the grand scheme of her… scheme? “Come with me,” she breathed against his chin. She’d take him to her office, manage a moderately graceful excavation of the condoms, and then they’d fuck on her desk. All she had to do was toss the two copier paper boxes filled with her personal mementos to the floor and they’d have a wide plane to play upon. Maybe he’d bend her over the edge, fuck her mercilessly from behind. What if he slapped her ass? Her pussy creamed. “No,” he exhaled, the quiet tone reaching the tenor of a growl. “I want my bed turned down. Personally.” She nodded, a bob of her head she doubted anyone would have seen. That was her job. Guest Services. Yep, turning down beds was right up her alley. “Of course, sir,” she purred. “Naked.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  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.” He kissed me, hard and probing, all his energy filling me. Without missing a beat, his face dropped down, sweeping kisses over my quivering hips, down to my open thighs. I felt his breath between my legs, his fingers caressing my lips, sweeping over me. He was just looking at me, taking me in while I was writhing, waiting for his mouth to touch me. I felt the tip of his tongue gently touch my clit, and I felt like my mind was going to come apart. His gentle sweeping strokes covered my pussy, teasing me until I was shaking and clawing at the sheets. The long fingers that I had fallen in love with so long ago were finally touching me, spreading me open, filling my tight pussy, pleasing me. The sensation was so intense, I didn’t know if I could handle much more. He kept slowly teasing me, tasting me, urging my desire forward, pushing me closer to the edge. His fingertip swirled the smallest circles over my clit. I gasped at his masterful touch, the pressure just enough to thrill me but not enough to make me come. His finger slid inside me, my walls gripping him, pulling him deeper into me. “God, I’ve missed you like this, Daisy. So much.” He stopped talking and went back to using all his weapons against me. I had taken as much as I could, and I wanted to give him something in return. I grabbed at him, pulling him up my body until we were again face to face. His kiss tasted like me, his lips hot with my wet pussy. It was amazing. “Me too, Blake. Me too.” I rolled him on to his back and straddled him quickly. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling every inch of tight muscle and the light smattering of hair that covered his chest.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He is fucking me, that’s the only way to describe this, yet in its way, his fucking is lovemaking too. It’s the kind of fucking a couple can engage in who knows that there is no one else they’d rather be with, so they can slam and rock and thrust and claw, scream and pound and yell and bite, and be assured that the other person wants every ounce of ferocious, almost violent energy they have to share. He doesn’t say anything, not even my name, just growls into my ear, a sound that’s so beautiful I start to cry a little when I come. He used to tell me not to cry, but now he knows that when it happens, it means I’m so overwhelmed with not just love and lust but destiny, rightness, perfection, that I can do nothing else. I squeeze him hard, and then I come again when he starts to fill me with his passion. He stops thrusting and simply lets himself be inside me, making me his and telling me he’s mine. Only later, when we’re freshly scrubbed from a dual shower, and I’ve remembered the champagne flutes and filled one for him, does Derek dare ask me what was going on before. “Well, the champagne room thing…it made me curious. And a little jealous. I was picturing you with all these girls around you doing all sorts of things and I wanted to, I don’t know, recreate that or something.” I mumble the last bit into my pillow. “Baby, you know you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And trust me…nothing even close to what you just did ever happened in any champagne room I’ve been in. But you don’t have to show off for me, unless you want to.” He looks deep into my eyes and I smile at him. “What if I want to? I mean, I did buy two bottles of champagne. …” “I say tell me where to install the stripper pole.” He laughs but sees my raised eyebrow. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?” he asks. I straddle him, then suck his lower lip in response. I’ll show him a monster, all right—a sex monster! And that’s exactly what I do for the rest of the night. TILL THE STORM BREAKS Erobintica Shrimp cocktail glasses filled with Veuve Clicquot. Boxed macaroni and cheese served in plastic bowls. Jars of storm candles for illumination. Pillows and blankets spread on the floor in front of the woodstove. Snow pelting the windows. Not exactly how we’d planned to celebrate the arrival of the New Year.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Cassie rearranged herself on the chair, splaying her legs more thoroughly. She ran her fingers down her sex folds to hold them open, inviting him in. Samuel stared at the offering. He shoved his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a condom. He quickly tore it open and donned the rubber. Cassie’s knees lifted around his hips as he pressed the blunt head of his cock to her opening, making her moan aloud. He hesitated, and she encouraged him on, tapping his bottom with one of her heels. “Samuel, I need you, badly. You’ve teased and taunted me with your delicious cooking. You’ve got me in a terrible state. You have to put me out of my misery and make love to me.” Samuel did not seem able to reply verbally, but his physical response was perfect. He grabbed her around the buttocks with both hands and gave her his length, inch by inch, before easing back then pushing in to the hilt. Cassie expressed her gratitude audibly, her head going back as he stretched her open, filling her. He kissed her throat while he found his rhythm, his hands clutching at her bottom over and over as he drove himself into her. In between damp kisses on her neck, he whispered her name and groaned. “Oh, that’s so good!” she cried. “I’ve wanted you so badly.” When he lifted his head to look at her she plucked a lychee from the nearby fruit bowl and put it into his mouth, then kissed him, scooping the fruit from his tongue to hers. The action sent him into overdrive, his hips thrusting against hers over and over. When she bit into the succulent fruit and amaretto seeped onto her tongue she lifted her knees higher, angling his cock inside her. Her chair creaked and the front feet lifted, and she was grateful it was wedged against the cooker. “Oh yes,” she cried, when his cock thrust up against the front wall of her sex and hit against her center. “Promise me next time we do this we’ll eat the whole meal this way.” Samuel stopped moving, and he cupped her jaw tightly in one hand as he looked deep into her eyes, forbidding her to look away. “Only if you promise me there will be many next times.” Her emotions soared, her body strung out on the ecstasy of the moment, his words and actions making a deep impression on her, just as he obviously intended. Unbidden tears welled in her eyes. For a while there she’d thought she would never feel like this, never want anyone this much ever again. Then Samuel had melted that away. She nodded, and clutched at him tighter still. “I promise.” He moved his hand and splayed it over her mons, thumb rocking against her clit, and then thrust again. Hard. “I want to feed you everything.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Sarah reached her hand back in the cab and turned his face toward her. “I want to gorge, bellyache be damned.” She reached for the tie again. He didn’t stop her. She unbuttoned her dress. It fell open. Dave cleared his throat. Sarah reached into the cab and tried to turn his face to her. He held fast. “You know, we’re in Winnemucca. This is where we…go our separate ways.” “I know.” She shook her shoulders. The dress fell away to fully expose her bright white bra and panties. “Ever made love in a sunrise?” Dave shook his head. “Can’t says I have.” “Then you ain’t lived, Dave.” She pulled his chin again. Now he looked. His eyes roved up and down her hungrily. “Oh lord.” “Join me.” She unclasped her bra, shrugged her shoulders, and her full breasts relaxed. She traced finger and thumb along the top of her panties. “Oh lord, Sarah.” She could see the bulge in his jeans plainly though his groin was angled away. She pulled down the panties. The sun emerged fully. Dave didn’t look at it. He stayed on Sarah, then jumped into the sleeper. He fumbled with his clothes like a teenager, his first chance at sex. Their limbs formed shadows on the back wall of the sleeper. “I’m hungry.” Dave crouched down in a small parcel at one end of the sleeper, his face turned up, eyes locked in hers. He pressed his face to her clit. “Oh!” Sarah had a few men do this and it made her feel awkward. It was so intense a sensation, and so personal a place. She let out a gasp as Dave flicked her clit with his tongue. She grabbed the plain white sheets in her fists. Her voice overpowered the rise and fall of diesel engines nearby. Dave’s glossy chin ascended from between her legs, a huge grin across it. “You’re delicious, Sarah.” “I’m hungry too.” She motioned for him to lie next to her, facing the other direction. She pulled his cock to her mouth. The tip was beautiful and silky soft. The thick veins curled like vines atop the rigid shaft, and she could not get enough of studying him, taking him as deep as she could into her mouth then tonguing every inch of him. Each time she focused on its base and flicked his tight balls, she felt him jerk. He rolled her body onto his chest and split her knees as wide as they would go. His tongue was powerful, insistent, unrelenting. She was overcome by a huge, full-body orgasm, her mouth was slack on his flagpole cock. Her limbs tingled and her waist shuddered in time. She tasted him again, but again lost control when a second orgasm washed over her.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He had delicate water-blue eyes with lashes as long as a giraffe’s. A stubble shadow that roughened his face and darkened the fine-carved bones of his jaw. Under his striped pajamas, his body was long and a little awkward, as though he didn’t know where to put his limbs. He must be a bookseller, Jane thought. Something serious and elegant. She checked out his hands. Pale, fine, no rings. Yes, she thought, as she watched his face blotch with an awkward, patchy blush. He’s lovely. Oh God, John thought. Oh sweet, gentle Jesus. There was a square framed picture of a tropical beach on the wall behind her head—an old record cover—and he carefully examined it. Otherwise he might look at her again. She was splashing more wine into her glass, and there was a faint purple stain on her top lip, but he couldn’t help himself, his gaze was pulled down to the pulse at her throat, to the pale skin.… “Is everything okay?” she asked. John let out a deep breath. “Your—shirt,” he said. “It’s not. It’s undone.” “Huh?” Jane looked down to where the thin fabric of her blouse clung precariously to her jutting breasts. And the breeze from the open window, John said to himself. Please God, help me. ‘”I’m trying not to look!” he blurted at last, shoving a hand into his hair and shaking his head. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. What am I doing here?” he murmured to himself. It felt like he was sleepwalking, like all the anger had pooled out of him and left him sitting here limp and foolish on this woman’s couch. Only, he realized with a growing, unnerving feeling like the swoop of his stomach as the roller coaster approaches the steep curve, not all of him was limp. His prick was starting to rise, reaching inexorably toward the light and poking rudely to attention. No no no, he told himself, but the brain in his dick just shrugged. The flimsy cotton pajamas rose like a marquee being erected. He grabbed the Yellow Pages and flapped them open in his lap. The sudden jolt made his cock leap joyfully and butt against the spine. He pressed the heavy book down and chanced a furtive glance at the girl. Jane. “Hey,” she said, swinging her hips gently from side to side. “Yes?” He sounded like he was in pain. “Dance with me,” said Jane, and held out her hand. “I love this song.” John frowned. “Come on, baby,” Jane said, clicking her fingers in the air in front of his downturned face. John raised his head, and his face was full of scrambled signals. His eyebrows twitched, and his cheeks flared. He shook his head harder. “This song,” he said at last, “is shit. This song and the next song, and the one when you flip the record over and crank up the volume on your terrible crackling speakers.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Then she smiled that gorgeous smile of hers and the tension in his gut began to unravel. “That was my intention,” he replied. Acting on the sudden intimacy of the moment he drew her fingers to his lips, kissed them, then leaned down to kiss her mouth. Her soft lips parted under his, inviting him in, and when she wrapped her free hand around the back of his head and drew him closer still, physical need built quickly inside him, making him hard. How long he’d been waiting to do that, and now he knew she wanted it too. “Don’t let it get cold,” she said as they drew apart, with mischief in her eyes. Not possible , he thought as he took his seat at the table, opposite her. He wanted her too much, and being this close to her was driving him mad. She was a sensual, expressive woman with a warm, playful personality. That’s what had drawn him to her, right from the moment she’d moved into the flat opposite his about six months before. He’d been attracted to her on sight, but given the age difference between them and her freshly divorced status, he didn’t think he stood a chance. He was a research student in his mid-twenties. She was an advertising executive in her early thirties. Why in the hell would she give him the time of day? But she had, and now here they were. “So, how long have you wanted to ask me on this date?” she asked as he dished the food from the platter onto her plate. “Since you moved in.” He smiled. Her eyes flashed. “And there was me thinking it was Kyle you were interested in.” Samuel lifted one shoulder. “Hey, he’s a good little gaming adversary.” It was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Six months ago he’d started chatting with her and her seven-year-old over the mailboxes each morning. Then he’d endeavored to help her out with her garbage on a Monday. She was grateful, and she chatted amiably. Before long he’d invited Kyle over for computer game time, and Cassie had come along to cheer them on. The three of them began to visit the nearby park together, and they enjoyed long conversations about life while watching over Kyle at play. Slowly but surely Samuel’s fascination with her had grown, until the nights grew restless and he knew he would have to take a chance and make a move. When the weekend his flatmate was away coincided with the weekend that Kyle went to stay with his dad, Samuel took the chance to issue a casual invitation.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  those who seem good and perfect. But unconsciously they are drawn to women who are imperfect, bad, of dubious character. They secretly crave what is the opposite of themselves. It is the classic split of the mother/whore—they want the mother figure for a wife but feel a much stronger physical attraction to the whore, the Fallen Woman, the type who likes to display her body. They have repressed the playful, sensual, and earthy sides of the character they had as boys. They are too rigid and civilized. The only way they can relate to these qualities is through women who appear to be so different from themselves. Like Swann, they find a way to idealize them with some highbrow reference that has no relation to reality. They project onto such women weakness and vulnerability. They tell themselves they want to help and protect them. But what really attracts them is the danger and naughty pleasures these women seem to promise. Underestimating the strength of such women, they often end up as their pawns. Their anima is passive and masochistic. Men who engage in this kind of projection need to develop the less conventional sides of their character. They need to move outside their comfort zone and try new experiences on their own. They require more challenges, and even a bit of danger that will help loosen them up. Perhaps they need to take more risks at work. They also need to develop the more physical and sensual side of their character. Not having to get what they crave by looking for the Fallen Woman type, they can actually begin to satisfy their urges with any type of woman, not passively waiting for her to lead them astray but actively initiating the guilty pleasures. The Superior Man: He seems brilliant, skilled, strong, and stable. He radiates confidence and power. He could be a high-powered businessman, a professor, an artist, a guru. Even though he may be older and not so physically attractive, his self-assurance gives him an attractive aura. For the woman attracted to this type, a relationship with him would give her an indirect feeling of strength and superiority. In the novel Middlemarch (1872) by George Eliot, the main character, Dorothea Brooke, is a nineteen-year-old orphan raised by her wealthy uncle. Dorothea is quite beautiful and would be a desirable match for marriage. In fact, a local young man named Sir James Chettam is actively courting her. But one evening she meets the much older Edward Causabon, a wealthy landowner who has devoted his life to scholarly pursuits, and he intrigues her. She starts to pay him attention and he courts her, much to the horror of her sister and uncle. To them he is ugly, with moles on his face and a sallow complexion. He slurps his food and talks very little. But to Dorothea his face is full of a spiritual quality. He is too above people to care about etiquette. He talks little because no one would

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  Soon other boys approach and Tom does the same sell job on them, accumulating more pieces of fruit and toys. An hour later, we see Tom lying in the shade while a whole team of friends finishes the job for him. Tom used basic psychology to get what he wanted. First, he got Ben to reinterpret this job, not by saying anything but through his absorbed attention in the task and his body language: the task must be something interesting. Second, he framed the job as a test of skill and intelligence, a rare opportunity, something that would appeal to any competitive boy. And finally, as he knew, once the neighborhood boys saw others at the task, they would want to join in, making it a group activity. Nobody wanted to be left out. Tom could have pleaded with dozens of friends to help him and gotten nowhere. Instead he framed it in such a way that they wanted to do the work. They came to him, begging for the job. Your attempts at influence must always follow a similar logic: how can you get others to perceive the favor you want to ask for as something they already desire? Framing it as something pleasurable, as a rare opportunity, and as something other people want to do will generally have the proper effect. Another variation on this is to appeal directly to people’s competitive instincts. In 1948 the director Billy Wilder was casting for his new film A Foreign Affair , which was to be set in Berlin just after the war. One of the main characters was a woman named Erika von Shluetow , a German cabaret singer with suspicious ties to various Nazis during the war. Wilder knew that Marlene Dietrich would be the perfect actress to play the part, but Dietrich had publicly expressed her intense dislike of anything having to do with the Nazis and had worked hard for various Allied causes. When first approached about the role, she found it too distasteful, and that was the end of the discussion. Wilder did not protest or plead with her, which would have been futile, given Dietrich’s famed stubbornness. Instead he told her he had found two perfect American actresses to play the part, but he wanted her opinion on which would be better. Would she view their tests? Feeling bad that she had turned down her old friend Wilder, Dietrich naturally agreed to this. But Wilder had cleverly tested two well-known actresses whom he knew would be quite terrible for the role, making a mockery of the part of a sexy German cabaret singer. The ploy worked like a charm. The very competitive Dietrich was aghast at their performances and immediately volunteered to do the part herself. Finally, when giving people gifts or rewards as a possible means of winning them over to your side, it is always best to give smaller gifts or rewards than larger ones. Large gifts make it too apparent

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He’s heading off to his best friend Greg’s bachelor party, and suddenly I’m turning into the stereotypical wife, suspicious of what antics these men, and more specifically, my man, might get up to. But even more than jealousy, what lurks inside me is curiosity. So when Derek tells me that in his single days, when he’d been horny but hard up for dates, he’d spent some of his fancy Wall Street bonuses in the back rooms, the champagne rooms, of strip clubs, I start to picture what exactly had gone down in those mysterious havens of sexuality. Immediately, I get an image in my mind: my big, strapping man sitting down against a plush leather seat, while a beautiful, petite (except for her breasts) naked girl, glistening with sweat and desire, and maybe some glitter, writhes against him. Sometimes in my fantasies she’s bottle-blonde, sometimes brunette like me, but with shiny, glossy, gorgeous hair, sometimes a wild redhead. I can practically see her bare pussy pressing its heat against his thigh, her perfect nipples bouncing in the air while he restrains himself from taking a lick. 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.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “In a minute, baby.” His voice was a low, sexy growl that made my pussy cream even harder. “I’ll touch you again when your pussy is ready. When your clit’s so sensitive you scream when I touch it.” He was as good as his word. He raised and lowered me on his cock, fucking me over him while he played with my nipples, getting all those special spots deep inside me so sensitized I was almost going to come from that touch alone. “Please,” I wailed. “Please, now!” He pulled me down onto his cock, rocking his hips and parting my pussy lips with one hand. “Look at the window,” he growled. “Look at us.” And he touched his finger to my clit. I screamed as the orgasm washed through me, wailed again and again as his finger circled, my eyes locked on his as he shouted and bucked into me so hard the chair rocked against the floor. “I love you,” he panted as I shuddered in his arms. “Always, baby. I’m yours.” “I l-love you, t-too.” It was hard to speak. I couldn’t stop shaking. Eric’s cock twitched inside me. I shuddered as I came again. And again. When I finally quit trembling, when my pussy finally quit spasming, Eric stood us up and lifted me into his arms. He stripped me naked and took me to bed. Then he traced the rose over my nipples and licked my pussy until I finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I fell asleep in his arms and when we woke up, I took him into my mouth and loved him with my lips and tongue and throat until he was as wasted as I was. We made love all night. And in the morning, we called Melissa and Janelle and told them we were engaged. Everybody else found out through their Facebook status updates, because Eric and I cleared our calendars for the rest of the week, turned off our computers and phones, and damn well spent most of that time in bed and getting to know each other again. We’re getting married next year, after he’s transferred to the Minneapolis office. We’ll use traditional invitations—and at Melissa’s instigation, we’ll also have a Facebook RSVP option for those who can’t break away from their computers, because God help me, we’re inviting everybody. We’re even having a somewhat traditional wedding night, though only Eric and I know that. As we left the hotel at the end of our extended holiday, Eric turned to me and asked, “Have you ever had anal sex?” My blush gave him his answer even before I stammered out, “Um, no.” “Me, either,” he grinned. “How about we save that for our wedding night? I know some very interesting things we can do in the interim so we’re ready for it.” I looked pointedly at his butt. “Okay.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  I know as he plunges inside me, holding me tight, his face buried in my neck, that no matter what happened in those champagne rooms, it was never like this. Derek pounds into me, overtaking me, and I cling to him, my thighs straining, my nails digging into his back. He is fucking me, that’s the only way to describe this, yet in its way, his fucking is lovemaking too. It’s the kind of fucking a couple can engage in who knows that there is no one else they’d rather be with, so they can slam and rock and thrust and claw, scream and pound and yell and bite, and be assured that the other person wants every ounce of ferocious, almost violent energy they have to share. He doesn’t say anything, not even my name, just growls into my ear, a sound that’s so beautiful I start to cry a little when I come. He used to tell me not to cry, but now he knows that when it happens, it means I’m so overwhelmed with not just love and lust but destiny, rightness, perfection, that I can do nothing else. I squeeze him hard, and then I come again when he starts to fill me with his passion. He stops thrusting and simply lets himself be inside me, making me his and telling me he’s mine. Only later, when we’re freshly scrubbed from a dual shower, and I’ve remembered the champagne flutes and filled one for him, does Derek dare ask me what was going on before. “Well, the champagne room thing…it made me curious. And a little jealous. I was picturing you with all these girls around you doing all sorts of things and I wanted to, I don’t know, recreate that or something.” I mumble the last bit into my pillow. “Baby, you know you’re the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And trust me…nothing even close to what you just did ever happened in any champagne room I’ve been in. But you don’t have to show off for me, unless you want to.” He looks deep into my eyes and I smile at him. “What if I want to? I mean, I did buy two bottles of champagne. …” “I say tell me where to install the stripper pole.” He laughs but sees my raised eyebrow. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?” he asks. I straddle him, then suck his lower lip in response. I’ll show him a monster, all right—a sex monster! And that’s exactly what I do for the rest of the night. THE CURVE OF HER BELLY Kristina Wright Brynn was crying. Again. As Paul closed the front door behind him and heard the sobs coming from the bathroom, he felt a thread of frustration winding its way around a ball of empathy. When they had decided to try to get pregnant, Brynn had been thrilled—she was a freelance copywriter who worked from home and couldn’t wait to become a mother.

• 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

  My other breast tingled, dimples popping up around the areola and the tip sprung. I cupped it with my palm to ease the ache, but he pulled away my hand and shook his head, wagging my breast right along. I gave a strangled laugh. “So not sexy.” He released my breast. “Got any complaints about my technique?” “Maybe about your pacing.” I ground against his erection. “You’re killin’ me here.” “Get your clothes off,” he growled. “You first.” “No way. I’m the guy. I get off on watchin’.” I swallowed hard, but I’d asked for this. Wanted for him to take charge, and he had with a vengeance if that hard-eyed look was any indication. I slid down beside him and rolled to my back, then awkwardly tugged off my shoes, tossing them between the seats in front of us, then shimmied out of my skirt, being careful not to lose the scrap of lace shielding my sex from his hungry gaze. Danny slid a finger under the lacy band at my hip, pulled it, and let it go to snap against my skin. “Not nice.” “I didn’t tell you to stop.” “You gonna order me around all night?” “I think so,” he murmured. “Seein’ as how it turns you on.” He traced a finger down the lace, right between my folds. He couldn’t miss the moisture soaking through the satin. When he popped his finger in his mouth for a taste, I pushed my panties down the rest of the way and then waited as he looked me over. Danny traced down the edges of my nude outer lips. “Did you do that for me?” I shook my head. “I prefer it.” “Spread ’em open for me.” I reached down and opened my lips and held them that way while he fingered the thin inner labia and pushed a long thick digit inside me. My pussy clenched around him, then released. Then squeezed again. A trickle of moisture greeted his invasion, and he quickly pulled out and sat up in the small, cramped space beside me to tug his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them past his hips. Just far enough to free his cock, which sprang free, lifting toward the ceiling of the cab. I didn’t wait for him to tell me what he wanted, he was too tight, too quiet, his breaths coming fast. I climbed over his knees and curled down to take him in my mouth.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  “Oh!” Brynn exclaimed, sloshing water over the edge of the tub as she took Paul’s fingers inside her. “Yesssss!” Paul’s clothes were soaking wet at this point, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was making Brynn feel good. He twisted his fingers inside Brynn’s pussy, feeling the slick wetness of arousal. It fueled his own desire, coaxing his passion beyond gentleness. He tweaked one of Brynn’s nipples between his fingers, delighting in the damp, rubbery texture of the skin beneath his touch. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Brynn cupped her full breasts, head thrown back against the side of the tub. “Fuck me with your fingers,” she whispered. “I need to come.” Her words drove Paul to the edge. He added a third finger inside Brynn’s swollen pussy, filling her. He laced his fingers together and made a twisting motion as Brynn’s muscles clenched down on him. He didn’t want to be gentle anymore, wasn’t even sure that he could. He just wanted to fuck Brynn—hard. He looked into Brynn’s half-closed eyes, searching for approval. “Are you sure you can take this?” Brynn nodded. “Oh yeah. I want it. Do it.” That was all the encouragement Paul needed. Oblivious to everything but the feel of Brynn’s pussy clamped around his fingers, he began to fuck her hard. Water sloshed every which way, causing a tidal wave in the bathroom until the floor was soaked and Brynn was only half-covered by water. Paul braced his right hand lightly on Brynn’s wet, swollen belly as he finger-fucked her with his left hand. It was like fucking a beautiful, familiar stranger—and that aroused him in a way he could never have predicted. “You’re so wet, baby,” he growled, pushing his fingers deep inside Brynn. 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.

• 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 Best Erotic Romance

  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. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he seemed underwhelmed, and I was starting to sweat in the tight-fitting black plastic. He rolled his eyes and sighed, his back collapsing against the bed, his muscles loose. I was starting to get discouraged. But, I pressed on, banging my pink leather riding crop against my open hand. Blake didn’t look scared, and there was absolutely no desire in his eyes. My back, which I had been holding straight in an attempt to look authoritative and sexy, started to droop. None of this was going how I thought it would. “Blake, I thought you were into this, what is the problem?” He squirmed against his ties, but not in the way I was hoping. He tried to sit up but couldn’t, and had to settle for an odd, reclined position that almost made me laugh. “I don’t know Daisy, I just don’t really feel like it tonight.”

• From Best Erotic Romance

  His fingers combed through my hair, then framed my face. I bobbed down, my lips suctioning, latching around his crown to suckle hard, my tongue swirling over and over his soft, sleek head. I found the slit, teased it with the point of my tongue, then swirled again, sinking down his cock to take more of his length, caressing the sides of his thick shaft with my long, slippery glides. His hand fisted in my hair and pulled me off. “Thought this was supposed to be your fantasy.” “Think I haven’t thought about doing this? What it would feel like? How thick, how long it would be? I’m just gettin’ acquainted.” “Damn. Come on up here.” I started to crawl up his body, sliding my chest over his belly, but he shook his head. “No, sit that bare-nekkid pussy over my mouth.” I pressed my lips together to keep the laughter trapped. “Not cool enough?” he gritted out. “It sounded sort of cheesy.” “Didn’t I say it with enough snarl?” “Just the right snarl if you were The King.” “Who?” “Never mind,” I muttered. Baby. “I mean it. You got close and personal with me, turnabout is fair play. Bring it on up here, girl.” “I’m not a girl,” I said, pushing out my lower lip. He rolled his eyes. “Will you stop with the age thing? I want that pussy on my mouth.” 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.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  John tried to maneuver his cock out of the way, but it kept insinuating itself between them. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” John said, placing a hand lightly on the back of her bowed head. He could smell her hair. Bubblegum and cigarette smoke. She shook in his arms, and the movement made him doubly uncomfortable. Jane pulled her face out from where it nestled in John’s armpit. Smudged mascara had given her black-ringed panda eyes, but they were dry. She grinned. “Frighten me? Unlikely, mister. John.” Her mouth—satin and juicy and soft and tender—was so close he could feel her breath on his face. She blurred in front of his eyes, and he thought it must be a mirage, that there was no way she would be moving in so close to him, bringing herself close enough to... His world went suddenly sweet and upside down. Her lips on his. The tip of her tongue darted into his mouth. He thought to himself, Oh! She was rubbing up against him. That devious cock of his reared up against Jane’s belly with delight, surging forward to meet her with bold joy and god-damn-whoa lust that made his heart ache. They collapsed together, falling against the couch and scrabbling not to break the embrace. John’s pajamas were a flimsy barrier, and Jane had his cock extricated and standing proud within seconds. In turn, John plucked at her kimono, pushed it roughly aside to free her breasts. He squeezed tenderly, leaning down to suckle and bite, but not hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” said Jane, “more, please more.” He looked up and caught sight of the clock behind her head, just to the left of the framed record cover. Five A.M. Dawn was starting to turn the sky light. His neighbor’s tits were in his face, her nipples still wet from his mouth, and the music. The music was still playing. “Excuse me,” John said, and laid Jane down gently on the couch. He padded over to the stereo, trying to cover his awkward hard-on while Jane sighed behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked, as he lifted the needle from the record and cut the singer off in midchorus. Silence bloomed between them. John met her eyes, saw the restless spark and the tiredness in them. He moved to her and sank onto his knees in front of the couch. “You love music,” he murmured, whispering now as the quiet boomed in his ears. Jane nodded as he pulled her jeans open and bared her pubic hair, the top of her clit. “So lie back,” John said, lowering his head. “And listen.” He put his mouth to her, bending like a monk in prayer. The nerves in Jane’s body all rushed between her legs, every fiber and pore of her pricked and readied for his touch. And he was quick. His tongue slid between her lips with delicate precision. Should she have guessed?

• From Best Erotic Romance

  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.” Jodi scrabbled with his metal belt buckle and straining zipper until she revealed his thick shaft. Before she could do more than moan her appreciation, he lifted her and impaled her on his thick heated length. She screamed into his mouth at the sudden penetration, holding tight to his shoulders as he worked himself up inside her in short, sharp, unforgiving strokes. “Take it, honey. Take my cock in your cunt, make me come.” Jodi concentrated on the thrust and withdrawal of his shaft and the ragged sensations he aroused in her. She anchored her feet on his pumping hips and simply enjoyed the wildness. Had she ever had sex like this before?