Download PDF Live In Lover - Erotic Short Story for Women

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The story centres on an art gallery owner and the mysterious man who makes her an intriguingly naughty offer. Reisz has a knack for writing hot, believable erotic fantasy and The Red is a pure sensual pleasure to read. Bussel is a prolific writer and editor of erotica anthologies and she knows a good story when she reads it.

This unique collection takes on the titillating topic of sex toys and the women and men who love them. Whether you have a treasure trove of your own playthings or are new to the world of kinky gadgets and gizmos, this delicious collection of 24 short stories will give you a variety of scenarios to read — and ideas to try. The first book in a series, Beautiful Bastard started out as Twilight fan fiction — much like Fifty Shades of Grey — and has developed quite a fan following. This steamy and romantic novel is an enemies-to-lovers erotic fantasy, with a lot of angry sex in a variety of semi-public locales, from back seats to boardrooms.

The novel is told in alternating points of view between Chloe, an intern working on her MBA, and Bennet, her boss aka the beautiful bastard , which makes for a delicious read-aloud experience.

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Suburban domesticity just got a lot sexier! The memoir of Parisian art critic Catherine Millet is chock full of exotic sexual exploits and observations. Millet recounts adventures from her uninhibited sex life and shares her insights on everything from masturbation to orgies. I start to ask him about it but he's stopped chatting, distracted now. I realize with delight that he's staring intently at me, his eyes lingering on my waist, my legs, my chest. He runs his thumb gently along the side of my dress, tracing the curve of my body before guiding me down the spiral staircase into his bedroom.

A minimalistic iron bed stands alone in the middle of a sparse white room. There's a screen across one wall that's the size of a small cinema. So this is where all of your stolen money goes, I think. I let out a sigh that's completely genuine as he pushes me back onto the bed and I notice four wide, black silk ribbons are tied to the bed frame.

He kisses me so urgently, gripping my thighs in his hands, pressing into me with his body that, for a second, I forget the plan. Every bit of him is hard and strong. I'd happily rip his clothes off there and then but he stops, reaches up to get one of the ribbons and ties my wrists together.

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Oh god. Talk about a wake up call.

Have I let this go way too far? He ties my hands to the bedstead and I'm fully aware that he's strong enough to do this without my consent. Then again, I could break out of these ribbons without a second thought, and besides, I'm completely compliant, biting down on my lip and staring intently back at him. He runs his hands down to my breasts to feel hardened nipples pushing up through my dress. He reaches under me to unzip it, staring at me the whole while before pulling it down over my legs.

I'm not wearing a bra and my boobs are pert, waiting for his touch, but he just stares as he pulls my lace knickers off after the dress. He starts to tie my feet up and I lie there, naked, exposed, with him fully dressed, loving every second. He takes off his shirt and I feel another wave of desire as I stare at his tanned, muscular chest, hard above his bulging jeans. I know this is wrong, but there's no way out.

And honestly? I don't want one. He leans down and kisses me, his lightly stubbled cheek brushing against me as he licks my left nipple. He takes the right nipple in his hand and rubs it under his thumb as he bites down gently, teasingly. I'm groaning with desire when he slips more fingers inside of me. I gasp, it's intense, forceful. I feel myself opening up to welcome him in and lose all sense of time as he reaches inside, stroking my clit with his thumb.

When I climax with a small cry, he takes his hand away and starts to kiss me, from the inside of my legs, right down to my feet. The sight of him fighting to restrain himself, still dressed from the chest down while I'm naked, ready and waiting, is a massive turn on. He works his way back up my legs with his mouth. His tongue flickers inside me, stroking and kissing and licking while his hands grip my legs and I writhe underneath him, gasping in pleasure.

I can't tell how long this goes on for; I never want it to stop. Eventually I'm begging him, pleading with him to put himself inside of me in a voice that I don't recognize as my own. When he finally pulls on a condom and enters me, I lose all sensation other than the awareness of him filling me, touching me in places that feel as though they'd never been touched before. We climax together and he falls onto me, sweaty and panting.

With my hands and feet still tied, I slip into an exhausted sleep. My hands and feet are free and I'm surprised to find that he's tied one of the ribbons around my hair.

I don't normally eat breakfast but I've never felt as hungry as I do at this moment. He picks up a pear and bites into it, lying at the foot of the bed, propped up with one elbow. I notice for the first time that he's wearing a suit. I've got to make tracks soon, important meeting, but I had fun last night, I want to do it again. Fine by me, I think, but I'm actually supposed to have planted six hidden camera in your house by now. The thought puts me off my food. I stare at myself in the huge mirror of his en-suite.

My hair is a post coital mess and I've still got the cameras in the lining of my clutch. What were you thinking? I ask myself. I expected a bit of fooling around, a pool party, then Tina and I would make our excuses and make a hasty exit, not this. By the time I've got last night's dress and knife-like heels on, he's already ushering me out of the house with a brief kiss goodbye on the cheek. Once his car is out of sight, I go back to the house across the street where our team is monitoring his every move.

They stare questioningly but I get the first word in, "Someone had better follow him, he's in quite a hurry.

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Why didn't you set the cameras up? I'm back in Marc's house, sat on his marble kitchen counter with him still inside me, having reached a shuddering climax.

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He's pushed my knickers aside and his trousers are down below his muscular arse. He'd barely offered me a drink before he lifted me onto the counter. I've been posing as a personal trainer in a nearby park for nine weeks, so when he recognized me on his morning run he realised why my face was so familiar in the club on Saturday, he's seen me commanding a group of three to do squats and press-ups for months. He stopped me in the middle of the session and asked me to come round tonight and I promised myself that I'd keep my wits about me this time.

When I disappear from his life forever, he won't be able to find my clients to question them, they're all undercover like me. I'm kneeling in the centre of his bed in carefully chosen Agent Provocateur lingerie when he comes into the room with a video camera and a tripod. Someone's done this before, I think. I take his trousers and boxers off and feel a shiver of excitement at the sight of him, hard and pulsing again. I take him in my mouth and run my hand up his smooth, sculpted chest as I suck and lick, feeling myself get more aroused with each of his groans.

When he's on the brink, I climb on top of him and order him to wait, rocking back and forth as he fills me, reaching every hidden spot. He breaks his hands free of the ribbon with a tear, cupping my breasts and groaning, his urgency making me feel even more turned on. He runs his hands down onto my waist and moves me up and down to his own perfect rhythm. As soon as I begin to climax, he gasps with relief and finishes with me, eyes clenched.

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Before long he's fallen into a sex-worn sleep with his heavy arm lying across my back. Once I hear his breath reach a slow, steady rhythm, I slide out from underneath him and slip my clothes back on, my body still tingling with passion. I make my way quietly upstairs and finish my assignment, placing cameras in a bookcase in his study, in his black and chrome kitchen and the fireplace of his living room. I bug the phone and find the painting that hides his safe, making a mental note of the type of lock so that I can report back to Dave. After creeping back down into the bedroom, I look over at his sleeping body, the sheets tangled around his waist, exposing his beautiful frame.

I take the memory card out of the video camera. I might never be able to have sex with Marc Burgess again but at least I'll be able to relive it now. Related Story Erotic fiction: read Toys. Type keyword s to search.