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No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story)
No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story)
No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story)
Электронная книга23 страницы21 минута

No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story)

Автор Largent C. Lange

Рейтинг: 5 из 5 звезд



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Doug, recently promoted to Branch Manager in Montreal, welcomes the change as an escape from his recent divorce. He can start all over, and immerse himself in his job. At least, he could-if it weren't for Simone. She's gorgeous, outgoing, and completely ruining Doug's concentration. A casual fling with Chantal, a hot Quebecoise business traveler, was supposed to distract him, but it only stokes his fire for forbidden fruit.

ИздательLargent C. Lange
Дата выпуска16 янв. 2012 г.
No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story)
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    No...I Shouldn't (An Erotic Short Story) - Largent C. Lange

    No...I Shouldn’t

    by Largent C. Lange

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2012 by Largent C. Lange

    Smashwords Edition License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold. Thank you for not redistributing the story without throwing a bone my way. But you know what? If you got a hold of this illicitly, it won’t bother me so much if you talk some of your friends into buying it.

    This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.


    I gripped her by the waist, thin and tawny above the swell of her hips, as she thrust me into her a little harder. With the tip of my tongue I traced up the supple skin between her breasts before looking up into her eyes, sapphire-bright. She stared back, a lazy smile on her candy-apple glossed lips, before a shudder forced her to tip her head back and gasp. I held on as she leaned back and began to moan, a soft noise at first, morphing into a long-sung note...

    ...and reality washed over me as harsh as cold water. Through the tinny speaker in my clock radio came the unmistakable aaaaaaaawww of Robert Plant in the middle of Whole Lotta Love.


    Once again, it was Simone. If I was thirty years younger, the dream would’ve made more sense. Then again, it would’ve been about Christie Brinkley and I’d have jizzed my tighty-whiteys. I rolled out of bed wondering what kind of man in his not-quite-mid forties should be dreaming about sex with someone like Simone. Well, she was hot. Incredibly so.

    She was also almost twenty

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