Lying in bed, he hears her moan as she serves him breakfast like no other. Her velvet folds are soft as fluffy pancakes, smothered all over his face in perfect rhythm -- right from his chin up to his mouth, nose, and forehead. He can't believe that the fire that he stoked in his married professor will lead to this. She gyrates on him some more until he flicks and drives his tongue faster. He pushes his face into her whole...

Among all the fans who wait for him at the book launch, this author particularly remembers only one. Everyone tells him, "I knew you were hot!" but the nerdy-looking one says, "I wonder how your scars shaped your characters." So he must have her tonight. In his hotel room, he asks, "What do you want from me?" Trembling, she holds his gaze and unbuttons his shirt. "I've dreamed of doing this for so long." She drinks his bo...

He was driving towards the hospital where his special lady received therapy. He had mixed feelings about all this. He was thinking of surprising her with a gift, but it may be too much. Then he saw the quaint flower shop in the corner of the street. He pulled over, parked in front of the store, and got out. For a moment, he had to stare at the colorful flowers in full bloom, arranged differently. "Hi! May I help you?" the...

You glide your hands on my back, as if trying to remember every flaw— each curve a confession, each breath is an act of devotion. You slide them down to my hips, tracing my love handles that only a very few men saw. Your fingers pause— lingering on this earth-incensed skin that has learned to forget how to be seen. I am standing still, blindfolded, wrists bound, leaning against the cool wall, anchored by trust, lifted by...

Her hands trail his chest down to his abs. Her fingers glide and grope those perfectly chiseled parts as she savors his breath, his lips, his hands, and that shaft that is so begging to come out. She knows she can't have this younger man forever, but whatever they have right now, whatever this is -- she reclaims her right to be happy in bed. Yes, maybe not with her philandering husband, but with her dear student who showe...

He traced her skin as if tending soft petals after the rain. Every breath was a surfacing, Every touch a plunge. Though the winds get pretty nippy now, and the sunlight, sometimes gone, the heat of their breaths between laughter, whimper, and tears, keep their autumn fire stoked and burning -- consuming them as one. Sometimes we wonder when the cold breeze will stop making us feel unseen or untouched. Yet, there is a spac...

I wonder what you do when you miss me. I wonder how you hold back to act on those desires that I used to kindle. I wonder if we have lost the fire in each other's eyes, the warmth of our bodies when we shut the world, and just think about us-- how our lips crash, how our hips roll, and collide... How our worlds melt into one when you hug me close, when you say my smile eases out your worries, when you whisper how you want...

Locking eyes with mine, You hungrily let your lips trail through the smooth surface of my thighs Your fingers slowly unwrap the lacy cover of the folds that you've been longing to peel open With the lacy cover pushed down to my feet I lift my hips a little bit As you bite your lower lip You lean your head looking down at me, and place my legs around your shoulders Eyes on fire Breathing more ragged Hips swaying in circles...

Bathing in the River The river shimmered silver in the late light, its surface broken only by the lazy drift of leaves. Isla slipped into the water, her body glowing with the sheen of sun and spray. Each movement was languid, almost ritual—the way her hands smoothed water down her arms, the curve of her breasts rising and falling as she exhaled, and the subtle sway of her hips as she waded deeper. She longed for this bath...

8 AM You must be driving your truck As you listen to my voice notes Over and over again. An ache. You put a country song instead. The long winding roads stretching on a coast that I have never been to -- Something that your eyes can only see. But you still hear my voice whispering, "Good morning," "Last night was really special." "Take care on your way to work." 12 NN You must be having lunch alone as you always do. And y...

He holds her tender waist As she descends and ascends on the great swell between his legs. On his lap, she sways her hips into his hips and he moans her name as the dance becomes intense. His relentless tongue savors each curve, each sweat, each mole on her skin as her nails dig into his shoulders. He throbs and drives faster and she cries lovingly into his neck. A gentle stream slowly breaking, pouring into him like an o...

Michael Buble is singing on her speakers in her soft, candle-lit room. A single buzz on her nightstand. She picked up the phone without looking, already knowing who it was. His voice came through the speaker like velvet smoke. "What are you wearing?" She hesitated, breath catching. "Pink lace..." she whispered, almost ashamed by how fast the truth tumbled out of her. "Take it off. Slowly. I want to hear it slide down your...

The heated cups clung to Konrad’s back like warm, inverted bells, each pulling at his skin until the ache in his muscles turned to something looser, almost fluid. He heard the physician murmur something to his assistant — and then realized the voice had changed. “Stay still, my Lord,” a soft, accented lilt instructed. “This last one must sit longer.” He froze. That voice. Isla moved within his peripheral vision, dark hair...

The heat of the flaying hall met Konrad like a wall — a living warmth, damp and rich with the mingled scents of wet stone, oil, and steamed herbs. The male bather stood ready, birch branches already soaking in a wooden bucket, their green leaves releasing a sharp, clean fragrance. Konrad stepped forward, bare but for the steam curling around his broad Nuremberger frame. His skin, pale from winters in armor, bore the small...