The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 4: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by Hunt, Evelyn

  Celeste was surprised to see her ex-boyfriend standing there in front of her.

  “Oh my goodness, Celeste. Imagine seeing you here.” He lightly touched her shoulder and Celeste felt the electric jolt again.

  She squeezed her legs together, trying to compose herself. She could feel the warmth generating in her valley.

  “What are you doing here, Davis?” she asked trying to change her focus.

  “I was looking for a book on business. I figured it would be best to come and browse.”

  They stared at each other awkwardly. Celeste hadn’t seen him since their last date. She thought that the date went well and then Davis had called the next day and blindsided her by breaking up with her because she couldn’t match his sex drive.

  Davis smiled. “Do you mind if I take a seat?”

  Celeste held out her hand toward the empty chair next to her. “Of course.”

  Davis wasted no time. “Look, I’m sorry for the way that things turned out between us. I mean, I had a lot of fun with you and you are a great woman, but I have needs and I didn’t want to cheat on you.”

  Celeste heard the words, but she wasn’t sure what they meant to her.

  “Have you slept with anyone else since we broke up?” She just had to know.

  Davis shook his head. “No. I haven’t. I haven’t necessarily been looking or searching.”

  Celeste nodded. So he had broken up with her just in case he found someone else to sleep with in the near future. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t want to discuss it because it was all water under the bridge.

  Davis inched closer to her. When Celeste didn’t move, he went in for the kiss.

  The electricity ignited a smoldering heat between them. Celeste’s hands caressed the back of Davis’s neck, pulling him in closer during their kiss.

  Neither one of them wanted to back off, but Davis did first.

  “Whoa! I don’t remember us ever kissing like that before. What just happened here?”

  Celeste’s body was on fire and she quickly needed quenching.

  She sensually licked her lips. “I’m going to ask you to do something a little out of the ordinary. Are you game?”

  Davis gave her a confused look.

  “Trust me on this one, Davis. You always talked about doing something wild and crazy. I know this is just a boring old book store, but what if we made love right here right now?”

  A smile came across his face. “Are you serious?”

  Celeste nodded slowly. She got up and sauntered over towards the bathroom that was in the right hand corner.

  Like a dog with his tail wagging, Davis followed. Once inside the small room, Celeste closed and locked the door. She attacked Davis ferociously. He wasn’t sure how to take what was happening to him, and Celeste could sense it, so she guided him where she wanted him to go.

  Celeste placed his hands on her ass, and he automatically palmed her behind. It forced her to open her legs, and when she did, she wrapped one around his waist. Celeste could then feel his hardness growing. His moan was invigorating and she reached down and massaged his cock until his was pleading to be released from his pants.

  Celeste kept her eyes trained on him as she unzipped his pants and released his stiffness. She didn’t want to give him too much on their first encounter, so she continued to gently massage him in her hands. She could tell by the look on his face that he could no longer contain himself.

  Davis’s soft blue eyes stared into Celeste’s as he picked her up and placed her on the edge of the sink. She wrapped both legs around his waist, letting him into her soft, wet abyss. He plunged into the depths of her sweetness, in and out, stroking her effortlessly.

  Davis and Celeste fit together like hand in glove. She was surprised that they were able to please each other so easily.

  Celeste and Davis were hungry for each other and his thrusts showed her how much he wanted her. It was like he’d been holding back forever and finally got a chance to release. Celeste held on tightly, her hands clawing his back with each stroke of his hardness.

  Celeste’s moans were getting louder and louder and Davis tried to suffocate the sounds with another kiss. Celeste clung to Davis with all she had in her, but when the orgasm washed over her, she lost control. It was the kind of spine tingling orgasm that every woman should have. The kind that ran the course of her neck to her fingertips to her toes.

  Davis held her and stroked her through it, relentless and not willing to let her have a break. He turned around and backed her against the wall, allowing him more leverage. Celeste still held on to her lover, her hands wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, and the walls of her sweet, sticky wetness wrapped around his cock.

  He began swiftly thrusting, and both of them were moaning with pleasure. Celeste started laughing at the thought of what they were doing.

  She climaxed again and Davis’s legs started to give way. He couldn’t hold on any longer and Celeste’s walls clamped down around his hard cock, tugging and pulling at him as he reached his own climax.

  Both of them were out of breath by the time they were finished.

  “Did we just really do what we just did?” Davis asked.

  Celeste unwrapped her legs and dismounted him. Once her legs touched the ground, they felt like jelly.

  Davis and Celeste dressed quietly. Before leaving, Celeste reached in for one more kiss. She could still feel the electricity between them. The spark had not died down. She made a mental note to go back to see Miss Blackwell for more elixir. She was feeling so good, that she didn’t want her libido to ever leave again.

  Celeste was the first to leave their love making nest. Davis followed behind her as Celeste went back to the table where she was working. She peered around to see if anyone saw them exit the bathroom. They were alone.

  “Can I see you again, Celeste?” Looking into his eyes, Celeste knew that they question would be raised between them. A few weeks ago, she would have jumped at saying yes. But with the elixir that Miss Blackwell gave her, she was able to experience so much more. She didn’t want to be tied down to just one man. She was a young woman in her sexual prime and after such a long drought, she deserved to know what it felt like to be sexually pleased and fulfilled.

  She started packing up her computer and her paperwork.

  “I think you should call me and maybe we can talk about it.”

  Davis looked anxious at first, but then a look of understanding came over him.

  He nodded and smiled. “I will call you, Celeste. You can bet on that.”

  He leaned over and kissed her.

  Celeste replied casually. “I look forward to it.”

  Davis walked away, but not without turning back to look at her. Celeste blew him a kiss.

  He smiled and disappeared around the corner of the bookshelf.

  Celeste laughed to herself. Finding her lost libido was invigorating and liberating. She was excited about the experiences to come. She had never wanted to have sex more than she did now. She only hoped that the feeling would stay and that she would never go back to the drought she’d been in for so long.

  She couldn’t wait to go to sleep and see where her sexual desires would lead her tonight. But then again, it didn’t really matter. Wherever they led, satisfaction was sure to meet her there.

  ***

  [Hope you liked the story and don't forget your 8 complimentary books, which you may find a download link to on the last page of this collection, just after the 11th story ends. Now, on to the next story!]

  Prisoner of My Heart

  by

  Lori Dixon

  ROSE pulled off the interstate and parked outside the Gas ‘n Sip; staring blankly out the dusty windshield of her beaten-up brown sedan, she had to tell herself to unclench her death-grip on the steering wheel three times before it loosened. She took a deep breath and braved twenty feet of searing-hot asphalt to get to the convenience store. Inside, the air was frosty eno
ugh to make her nipples stand to attention, even under the jean jacket she used to conceal all the bruises; she crossed her arms to cover their rigid points as she stretched her legs striding down one aisle, then the next.

  She stopped in front of the magazine display, staring without seeing the scads of glossy smiles, manufactured dramas and celebutante scandals. “I belong on Maury Povich,” she thought. “When did my life get so messed up?” She kept her arms crossed to hide how much she was shaking, only cold on the inside now. She blinked rapidly; searching for some image or story in the dissipation splayed before her — something that might distract her from the chaos of her thoughts.

  Her blue eyes wandered past the tabloids to the girlie rags; she inadvertently met the gaze of a large, red-faced man wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off, his flabby midriff barely contained by a stained white tee shirt overhanging his torn jeans. Rose hung her head so her medium-brown waves would hide the disgust on her face, quickly averting her eyes, but it was too late.

  “You lookin’ for somethin’, sugar?” the man asked, leering. “No-nothing,” Rose said quickly, backing away from the rack, edging towards the exit. The man followed a step or two. “You sure? I could think of a thing or two that just might tickle your, uh…” he paused and wiggled his eyebrows up and down, “…fancy.” The stranger looked nothing like Sean, but suddenly it was like her husband was standing there, taunting her. Her face burned with shame, bile rising in her throat.

  Rose turned swiftly and walked out the door as fast as she could, fumbling with her keys as she went. Her hands were shaking as if palsied and she was panting like she’d just run a mile.

  She tried to calm her breathing as she wrenched the car door open. “You’ve got to get a hold of yourself,” she thought desperately. “Just figure it out, Rose.” She peeled out and headed south again, pushing the speed limit and her Junker’s engine for all they were worth.

  Around 5:30 p.m., Rose had to pull over to the side of the highway to retch into the dirt; she wiped her mouth and fell back behind the wheel, gunning the engine once more. Her eyes began darting from the clock on the dashboard to the road, her brain seizing up when she knew that by this time, there was no way, no way Sean didn’t realize she’d run away by now.

  She pictured her husband getting home from work, tossing his briefcase on the hall table like he always did, then rushing from room to room, yelling her name and getting no answer. She saw flashes of what she imagined he’d look like: his tan face reddening with rage, blue eyes electrified by anger, thin lips pulled back in a grimace of fury. She hoped his muscle-bound frame would try throwing a punch at something that would hurt him for a change: the wall or the fridge… Then she swallowed, hoping she hadn’t left any clues behind. She tapped one wrist on the wheel frantically and repeated in her mind, “I’ve got a head start, I’ve got a head start…”

  ***

  BY 9:30 p.m. she’d made it all the way to St. Stephen, South Carolina — as close to the middle of nowhere as she was going to get without crashing her car into a ditch from lack of sleep. She plunked down a few dollars for a room at a cheap motel and bunked down for the night, keeping a light on in the bathroom and one foot on the floor. That was her M.O. every night for the next week and a half, as she meandered west, trying to decide how far off the beaten path she needed to be to feel safe.

  Then one day around noon she noticed a billboard announcing that “Paradise Found, where happy plants make happy people,” was just nine-tenths of a mile down the road… She slowed and pulled in. The “Help Wanted” sign taped to the door may as well have had her name on it. After a quick glance at her application, the owner, Maeve, a kindly gray-haired woman in her sixties, looked at Rose curiously.

  “You’re a little overqualified, aren’t you, dear?” she’d asked. “Posey, is it? A degree like yours could take you bigger places than here.” Rose demurred. “I-I tried the corporate track, it wasn’t for me,” she fibbed. “Well, if you’re sure,” Maeve continued, “then you’re hired.” After gushing with relief, Rose asked about a place to stay for longer than one night. “I’ve got a room up above my barn,” Maeve said. “My late husband Jules used it as an art studio. It’s not large, but it’s clean and it has its own bathroom. I could let you have it for, say, $10 a night? We could subtract week one from your first paycheck,” she’d offered, smiling warmly. Rose smiled back. She’d found her safe haven, even if she had to answer to a made-up name.

  Rose spent the next day working in Maeve’s greenhouse, tending to her prize orchids and preparing some cuttings for the coming weekend’s green market Maeve told her she’d eventually be in charge of selecting and selling plants and flowers at the markets; including overseeing the day workers Maeve kept on call to load and lift all the trees and potted plants. Rose kept looking around and just staring; she couldn’t believe she was working with plants again! And this was so much better than a laboratory — surrounded by the scents of tilled earth and fresh blooms.

  Rose picked up a phaeleanopsis and traced one of its delicate, pink-edged petals with the tip of a finger. “So perfect,” she thought, “so innocent…” recalling a time when Sean had said those same words to her. It was the night of the big dance, and the corsage adorning her wrist was of orchids just like the one she was holding; unbelievably exotic to her young eyes. Rose had spent the entire final semester of college in a daze: after two years of mooning through Chem class, yearning for him to notice her, the impossible had occurred. Sean Cavanaugh had done more than notice her — he’d fallen in love. Or so he claimed. “Maybe he meant it, at first,” Rose thought wistfully, “before everything got twisted. Before he joined the Boys’ Club, before Didier hired him…”

  “You checking for bugs?” Maeve interrupted Rose’s reverie, raising her eyebrows quizzically. “Just thinking about orchids,” Rose said sheepishly, hurriedly replacing the plant on the table. “Did you know the name orchid stems from the Greek word orchis, which means testicle? It’s because of their roots bulbous shape,” she tried not to sound like she was covering up for being a space cadet. “No, I didn’t,” Maeve drawled, “that’s, very interesting Rose. Perhaps you can think of a use for all that trivia while we’re trimming back the American Beauties?” She waggled a pair of shears in the air. “Sure,” Rose said, and they worked through the remainder of the afternoon.

  ***

  ROSE spent every day for the next three weeks in almost the same fashion, working side by side with Maeve, tending to the plants and flowers, helping at the green market on weekends. Her days felt full; her evenings were another story. She’d start awake every night, sometimes more than once, bathed in sweat and tears, heart racing, clutching her throat and crying out, “No! Please, you can’t make me! No, Sean, no!” She was grateful for the distance between her own and Maeve’s sleeping quarters in the main house; she’d hate to have to explain these nocturnal outbursts.

  To celebrate her fourth market weekend, Maeve had a special pink “Paradise Found” tee shirt printed up with “Everything’s coming up Poseys” on the back. “Do you like it?” Maeve had asked shyly when she’d presented the gift. “I love it!” Rose had laughed, hugging her. She and Maeve had quickly grown close, and she wondered at her luck in finding her and the nursery, like it was meant to be. She changed into the shirt right away and wore it to market as a show of gratitude.

  Rose had been terrified by market day at first, never having thought of herself as a saleswoman. Selling had always been Sean’s strong suit. “He sure sold me,” she thought bitterly. Luckily, Maeve’s reputation preceded them, and buyers were mostly regulars who knew what they wanted and how to ask for it. Once customers became accustomed to seeing Rose’s smiling eyes and dimples, she really just had to write up receipts and say “Thank you”. And now that she had an official company tee, she felt her confidence grow.

  Sometime after lunch, when the last-minute flower shoppers started strolling in, looking for filler for their centerp
ieces and mixed bouquets, Rose noticed a new face in the crowd of familiar browsers. Tall, lean and trying hard to look casual in sunglasses, smoke-colored jeans and a dusty black tee, he had dark, nearly black hair, an olive complexion and a sinister-looking goatee. He’d been ambling around the perimeter of the market, not buying anything and not appearing interested in anything, and when he passed her stall the third time her pulse started to go berserk. “Oh no,” she thought. “What if he’s some hired muscle Sean sent to find me?” At one point she thought he caught her staring, but then he just strolled away. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” Rose worried. “I need to get more sleep. And he needs to stop dressing like a spaghetti Western villain.”

  She turned from tying some gerberas with gingham ribbon for Mrs. Watkins to find the stranger standing right in front of her. “Oh hello,” she stammered, handing off the flowers and turning back to him. “May I help you?” He pulled his sunglasses down along the bridge of his aquiline nose, revealing eyes lushly fringed with ebony lashes, in the most starling shade of green Rose had ever seen. “Perhaps you might,” he drawled. The almost musical sound of his deep, rich voice sent a shockwave of desire rippling between Rose’s legs, and she had to quell a tiny gasp. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this sudden urge to fling herself at a potentially dangerous stranger.