The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 18: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women (12 page)

He nodded, “That’s more like it.”

“Did I bruise your ego?”

He shot me an amused look, “Keep it up and I’m going to bruise something else!”

Tickled that he was human after all, I shut my laptop and slipped my arms around his neck, “Do I need to kiss it and make it better?”

He nodded, “My ego just happens to live in my cock.”

“Damn, you just fucked the hell out of me and now you want a blowjob?”

Grinning, he said, “Blowjobs are always good and you give some damn good head.”

Patting his shoulder, I promised, “Maybe in the morning. Aren’t you tired?”

“Not too tired.”

With a groan, I crawled across the bed we hadn’t drenched, “Seriously, let me surprise you in the morning.”

“Damn, Baby, surprise me? You just told me.”

“Well, okay, if you don’t want…”

He quickly said, “I didn’t say that!”

I laughed as he wrapped around me, whispering words of love along with goodnight. Exhausted, I fell asleep immediately only to wake up in the middle of the night. I had to use the restroom so I tried to ease out from under him but he pulled me to him.

Squirming, I moaned, “Blake, I have to pee!”

He released me so I quickly headed to the restroom, grinning on the way back with plans to wake him up. Unfortunately, he was on his stomach so I curled around him and went back to sleep. I awoke the next morning with him staring at me.

“You ready for breakfast?”

I murmured, “Coffee!”

“It should be ready.” With a grin, he pulled himself out of bed.

Bringing two paper cups back to the bed, he handed me one and cringed over the other one, “I can never get used to hotel coffee.”

I laughed but agreed as I sipped mine. He turned the TV on as he drank his before asking, “You still like omelets, right?”

Nodding, I asked him why and he motioned toward the door, “Joe’s bringing a cart back with a variety but I told him to make sure there was an omelet.”

“Thank you!”

“Want me to add some sausage to that omelet?”

I rolled my eyes, “I was going to surprise you but you were on your stomach!”

“Tickle my fucking balls, Baby… what the hell?”

I laughed and stroked him through the sheet, “When is Joe suppose to arrive with that?”

No sooner than I spoke the last word, a knock sounded. Blake made a face, “Shit!”

I quickly pulled the sheet around me as he barked, “Enter!”

Joe wheeled it in and, with a quick salute, spun around and left. Glancing at Blake, I cringed, “I hope he didn’t hear us.”

He laughed, “You know how hotel rooms are… paper thin walls.”

My face reddened as peeked at the cart. There were pancakes, omelets, bacon, and hash browns amongst pastries and fruit glazes. My jaw dropped, “We’ll never be able to eat all this!”

He grinned, “Who the fuck said we would be eating it all?”

I grinned, “Damn, you’re kinky!”

“You wouldn’t know kinky if it bit you on the…”

I ran a finger through some blueberry glaze, bringing it to my tongue. His hand shot out and shoved it in my face while that dark laugh rang through the air. My screech of anger made him tackle me. He immediately scooped some blueberry glaze out and held it over my face.

I grated out, “I was going to suck that off your cock!”

He smeared it down my chest, “You like strawberries, right?”

My hand slapped into the glaze and I wiped it on his chest. He grinned, “Now lick it off, Baby!”

He rolled, placing me on top so I scooped more strawberry glaze, and crawled down his body. Smearing it over him, I dragged my tongue over his shaft and smacked my lips. He grinned but shoved my face down on him, laughing wickedly when my teeth nipped him.

“Ah…yeah. Bite it. Go ahead. I’ll show you who bites harder!”

I wiped the red glaze, smearing it in the process, as I licked his cock again. Both of us jumped a mile when the door flew open. The drummer froze, his mouth hanging open, before he cursed and quickly fled. Blake roared as I stared, slack-jawed, at the door and then at him.

Taking advantage of my expression, he pushed my face down on him again. My temper flared immediately.

Slapping the bed, I growled, “Stop it!”

“Ooooh. Let’s get you all pissed off.”

I grabbed his cock in an attempt to collapse him into an aroused zone. His fingers immediately flew into my hair, “Need some help there, Baby? I remember you liked when I forcefully fucked your throat.”

My moan gave me away. Ignoring the stickiness, I breathed in the cloying sweetness mingling with his male aroma and rubbed my wetness along his leg.

He hissed in breath, “Ah, yeah. Smear that pussy on my leg.”

I whimpered around him as his hand tightened in my hair, pushing my head down harder onto him. Taking a breath, I let him bounce my head over his cock while lathering his shaft with my tongue.

My staccato moans grew louder as I rubbed his leg, driving my ache higher. I smeared glaze along with my saliva over his balls before he rolled, capturing me under him and placing his shin directly over my clit.

He fucked my throat with his fist buried within my hair, never breaking eye contact and always tweaking my clit under his leg. My nails raked his ass as my back arched at his controlling stance, unbelievably getting off in my submissive pose. He finally slowed so I could suck him long and hard, writhing while tasting him along with the glaze.

He watched me with a little knowing grin as if he knew exactly how his powerful stance drove me crazy. When my breathing grew erratic and I couldn’t quit squirming under him in desire, he buried his bulbous head in my throat as his shaft swelled. I relaxed my throat, taking him deep within before swallowing repeatedly around him. Never taking my eyes off his, I watched his face twist and the muscles bunch in his neck as he exploded.

He pulled out, pumped his cock in his hand, and—knowing this drove me wild—granted me a cum-shot right in the face. I writhed under him, crying out as I clawed the sheets. Staring at me with a heated grin on his face, he shook his head, “God damn, Baby, you are something else. I could fuck you all day!”

He tossed me a towel so I could wipe my face off before licking his way down my body and driving my hips off the bed when he sucked my clit. He ran stubble over it while grinning, “Want me to pluck that taint?”

Another thing which he knew drove me crazy was his penchant for raunchy talk. Without a word, fingers drove inside to fuck me while he raked his chin and tongue over my clit. He pushed my legs wide with his feet, bracing them apart with his arms, and watched as I panted and trembled under him.

“Don’t cum yet.”

As he spoke, his fingers stilled and he moved away from my clit; leaving me hanging on the edge. I desperately cried his name but he didn’t move an inch until he finally said, “Now, Baby, cum for me!”

He pinched my taint as his tongue flicked my clit, sending my trembling hips curling and bucking into his face in climax. His fingers pumped into me, amplifying my orgasm until my pussy was queefing around his fingers. He nipped my stomach on his way to my nipples, raking stubble over both while he finger-fucked me into a fit of begging.

Still rock-hard, he drove inside and roughly pumped into me until I was a boneless worshipful mess beneath him. Lifting me to him, he breathed words of love into my neck as I weakly nuzzled into him. I raked my face over his, telling him I loved him for the first time since I’d been there.

We sank onto the sticky sheets. He rubbed his cheek over mine, “We better shower before the judge arrives.”

I froze, “What!?!”

He laughed out, “Supposed to be here any minute.”

I shrieked, slapping his back but he laughed harder while lifting me off the bed, “Don’t start something that we don’t have time to finish!”

My frustrated cry made him laugh harder as he set me on my feet. Both of us were covered in sticky blue and red glaze, as if the fourth of July had exploded on us, but he took the time to cover both the beds with the unscathed bedspreads.

He pointed toward the shower, “Jump in while I tell Joe to look out for the judge.”

He pulled a robe on and left me with my jaw hanging open before I rushed into the shower. Less than two minutes later, he joined me with a grin, “Joe’s eating your omelet.”

“So what. I’m not getting pissed about it.”

His grin widened, “He heard us.”

My hands shot in my hair as I cringed. He laughed and shook his head under the spray while saying, “So did the rest of the band.”

“I can’t believe you! Trying to piss me off while Joe’s in our room!”

He shrugged, “I’d fuck you in here.”

I clenched my teeth but giggled when a wild look shot over his face, “You’re insatiable!”

“Only around you, Baby.”

We quickly finished and exited with our inside-out red and blue smeared robes to find the judge, the band, and Joe waiting in our bedroom. The band had stripped the sheet off the bed and fashioned it into what looked like a silly bouquet.

I turned beet red from head to toe and tried to back into the restroom but Blake caught me. He was laughing so hard that the entire band’s jaws hung slack along with Joe’s.

The judge cleared his throat, “Are we ready to begin?”

I bit my lip, elbowed Blake in the ribs, and tried to keep from laughing when I took the soiled sheet. The entire band was having similar trouble keeping a straight face as they took in both beds and the carpet between them. Joe had actually attempted to clean it but our hideousness spoke for itself.

I spotted an ass print of red on the edge of the bed and pressed my lips together before giggling out my promise, “I do.”

Blake followed my line of vision, dragged a hand down his face, and actually did a better job keeping the glee out of his tone. After we kissed, the judge nodded respectfully, and followed Joe out the door. The rest of us doubled over with laughter before I threw my ‘bouquet’ at Blake.

He tackled me onto the bed while the other members scattered, yelling, “Hey! Whoa! Just… holy shit… wait a fucking minute!”

***

[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!]

by
Emma Bishop

Daniel walked into the studio quietly, waving his security card at the door. As he made his way down the hallway he could hear music, growing somewhat louder as he approached the control room. Someone was playing piano in the live room slowly—almost musingly.

Daniel grinned to himself, thinking he was fairly certain he knew who would be playing like that at such an odd hour when the studio complex would be deserted. The sound was like someone sorting through thoughts, and as Dan stepped into the control room, he heard a soft voice muttering, picked up by a live mic that was transmitting the playing as well.

He looked through the huge window and saw the woman he expected; even at a distance, with her head bent over the piano, he could recognize her. “Well, fuck,” she said, her hands shifting on the keys of the piano. She made a face, sighing and staring at the instrument as if it was to blame for all of the problems in the world. Dan laughed, finding and pressing the intercom button.

“Having trouble?” he asked the woman. She looked up, startled and slightly annoyed before she recognized his voice. He saw the flash of genuine pleasure on her features, the sudden gleam of a brilliant smile.

“Dan!” she called out from the live room, leaping up from the bench and running across the room. She bolted through the open door and Dan braced himself as she caromed into him, almost knocking him over. “You’re here! You’re here! Wait.” She stepped back, looking puzzled. “What time is it?”

Dan laughed again. “It’s seven in the morning, Juliet. Tell me you weren’t up all night again.”

Juliet grinned sheepishly. “I did sleep some,” she said, gesturing to a couch in the corner.

Dan noticed that there was indeed a pillow and a blanket there—both of them thrown aside as if in a hurry. Juliet threw herself onto the couch, grabbing the pillow and wrapping her arms around it.

Dan took her in for a moment; her long, dark hair was swept back into a messy bun, and her feet were bare, peeking out from the bottom of a well-worn pair of jeans. She was wearing a pale pink tank top that clung to her curves with a loose cardigan over it in dark brown. Dan could tell she was exhausted, but somehow she was still beautiful to his eyes.

When she had hugged him, he had breathed in the scent of her perfume—she favored old fashioned floral scents, particularly roses, and for years he hadn’t been able to smell anything with roses in it without thinking of this woman.

“You have a house, you know,” he commented, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting a few feet away from her. Juliet giggled and tossed the pillow aside, stretching long and luxuriantly; Dan couldn’t help the instinctive way his gaze flicked down when her movement made the tank top ride up slightly, revealing a flash of tanned skin and parts of the tattoos she had decorated her hips with.

“Well, I was working late and I was too tired to drive, so I thought I’d take a nap and then go home. And then I woke up with an idea for how to fix a problem on a song. And then I tried working on another song…” she shrugged. Dan could understand the impulse perfectly, and in spite of himself, he smiled.

He had flown out to help her on the album she was currently working on; returning a favor she had done him and his brothers a year before. He worried about her when she worked on a new project; Juliet was exactly the type of person who would become so engrossed that she would forget to eat for hours at a time, would sleep only enough to get her to the next day of work.

The two of them had met as peers, years before. Juliet had been coming up just as his brothers’ band had been fading into relative obscurity and the indie scene. He remembered that from the very beginning he had been impressed with her talent and the fact that her brain was constantly working; when he and his brothers had started working on developing their own proprietary label to keep releasing music, she had been several steps ahead of them.

Even as Juliet had been gaining popularity as a singer-songwriter, she had refused to work with the conventional recording label system, instead settling for nothing less than a distribution deal on her own terms. “I figure, if they want the money I can make them that much, they’ll do it my way,” she had said when he had asked her about the odd decision.

Dan had been seventeen when they met, and Juliet no more than fifteen or sixteen; yet somehow Dan had often entertained the idea that she was much more mature and worldly than him. His attraction to her had crept up on him—certainly he hadn’t noticed her finer qualities when they had first met.

He had admired her music and respected her sense, but he hadn’t really given much thought to her looks. In the years since their initial meeting at a music festival they were both playing, Juliet had changed and grown.

Where she had been slightly awkward, with features that were slightly too adult-looking for her teenaged face, she was now a confident woman whose high cheekbones and big, dark eyes were in perfect balance with the rest of her face. And then, of course, Dan had noticed that as she had gone through puberty her curves had intensified; the woman in front of him had the kind of hourglass figure that women went through surgeries to acquire.

If Dan had to put an exact moment to when he had become attracted to Juliet, it would have been sometime around when she had turned eighteen. She had finished school early and spent months in France, working on material for her second album.

Dan envied the way that she had managed to balance a normal school life with a career in the music industry. He and his brothers had invited her to come out to their rural home and visit for a few days, and she had happily accepted. Dan had met her at the airport, and she had appeared in the crowd, jet-lagged and in the most comfortable clothes she owned—and suddenly beautiful.

She had greeted him with real, genuine enthusiasm, her eyes flashing and her smile as bright as he had ever seen it. Dan remembered that her hair had been in two braids that day, hanging down from either side of her head and extending down to her full bust. When she had hugged him, he'd had to fight the urge to crush her body against his and breathe her in.

Dan was pulled back to the present by Juliet speaking. “You want some coffee?” she asked, standing up. For a moment, she was slightly wobbly on her feet, and Dan instinctively reached out to steady her. She giggled, smoothing her hair back from her face and yawning.

“I’ll have some coffee and then we can talk about this project, and then we’re driving you to your own house and you’re going to sleep.”

Juliet pouted, putting her hands on her hips and trying to stare him down. Dan laughed and stood, giving her a gentle shove toward the door.

“You’re exhausted, admit it.”

Juliet sighed, ruining the effect with a grin. “Okay, fine, I admit it.”

Dan drove the two of them to Juliet’s house after they had gone over the details of what she wanted help with on the album. For the most part, she wanted help with the percussion arrangements; Dan had been pleased and flattered when Juliet had mentioned that she had tried working with several studio musicians, but none of them had quite the knack for her peculiar time signatures and sound that Dan did.

On one or two songs, she had wanted his voice—and Dan had looked over the lyrics and started the process of working out the harmonies with her. Toward the end of their discussion, as they were singing parts to the basic melodic framework, Juliet’s voice had started cracking with fatigue, and even she had to admit she was too tired to work profitably.

Dan noticed her hands shaking from the caffeine as she put on her shoes and had snatched the car keys out of her hand, holding them over her head. “Your hands are shaking, you’re exhausted. I’m driving.”

When they arrived at Juliet’s house, she snatched the keys back and unlocked the front door. Dan had stayed at her house more than once, so he carried his suitcase in with him, putting it down next to the couch.

“I’m going to get a shower,” Juliet told him. “Make yourself at home, as usual.” She gave him a friendly grin and Dan nodded, heading straight for the kitchen. He had managed to take a nap on the flight over, but he was always hungry—and Juliet was a good cook who always had a well-stocked fridge.

He heard the water come on from the direction of Juliet’s bedroom; he concluded that she had left the door to the master bath open in case he needed to ask her something. Dan closed his eyes, standing in front of the fridge.

For a moment his brain was consumed with an image of the curvy woman standing in the shower, water sluicing down her body. He had never seen her naked, but he could easily imagine—a shiver moved down his spine, a bolt of arousal heading straight for his cock at the thought of her.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against the cold fridge door. One or the other of them had been in a relationship the entire time they had known each other—until now. For once, they were both single.

Maybe it would have been a better idea to stay in a hotel, Dan thought. It was potentially dangerous for them to both be under the same roof, both single, and with the overwhelming attraction he felt for her—dangerous, at least, if she returned his interest. Dan forced his eyes open and opened the fridge, making himself to go through the motions of building a sandwich with automatic movements.

Juliet stepped into the kitchen just as he was finishing his first sandwich and working on his second one. Dan held himself back from staring at her; her dark hair was down, still damp from the shower, and clinging to her face, neck and shoulders.

She was in pajamas, with no bra on underneath the tee shirt she wore; the cool air had made her nipples press against the thin fabric.

“Feeling better?” he asked, tearing his gaze away from her chest. Juliet grinned, nodding and heading toward the fridge.

“The hot water worked out most of the kinks in my neck and shoulders, at least,” she said, taking out a pitcher of filtered water and pouring herself a glass. Dan closed his eyes while her back was turned to him for just a moment; the way her pajamas clung to her skin was almost unbearable. He took a shaky breath and opened his eyes in time for her to turn back around to face him.

“I’m still too keyed up to sleep,” she said. Dan chuckled, standing up from the bar stool he had taken to eat at the counter.
I can think of several ways to make you tired enough to sleep
, he thought deep, deep down in the back of his mind.

“Wanna watch TV for a little while then?”

Juliet nodded and he followed her into the living room, trying not to stare too much at the sway of her hips. Instead, he settled himself on the couch near her as Juliet turned on the television and flipped through channels until she found something she wanted to watch.

After a few moments, Dan felt comfortable and confident enough to pull Juliet back to lie against him. She peered up at him suspiciously.

“What? You need to relax. It’s not like we haven’t laid about like this before.” That was true enough—they had even fell asleep once after a particularly crazy show, tangled up in each other’s limbs on the couch on a tour bus. But his motivation wasn’t quite so simple this time, he thought, breathing in the scent that radiated from her hair and body; it was like fresh roses after a summer rain.

“My hair is going to get your shirt wet,” she told him, though she didn’t stir, instead relaxing against his shoulder. Dan rolled his eyes.

“Like I even care about that. It’ll dry.” Dan fought against the urge to wrap his arms around her, to reach up and cop a feel of her breasts through her tee shirt. He wanted more than anything to feel her nipples harden under his palm, to hear the catch in her breath that would signal her arousal, but he reminded himself that she was too exhausted to think rationally, to make up her mind.

Instead, he moved his hands to her shoulders and began slowly kneading the tight muscles there, finding the knots that long hours of work and awkward sleep had formed. Juliet moaned softly, relaxing into him by degrees.

“Where did you learn how to give a proper massage?” she asked him absently, turning her head to direct his fingers where they would do the most good. Dan chuckled.

“From you, of course.” Juliet had magic hands; he had discovered it when they had been on tour together. He had been complaining of a cramp in his neck one night after a show and she had raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to turn around.