Emily St. Claire is a romance and erotica author living in Los Angeles, California. She devotes most of her free time writing about her provocative fantasies. When she’s not writing she enjoys surfing, reading, and just lounging in the sun. She works with many genres ranging from realistic romance to fantasy, or wherever her imagination takes her. Her debut title A Bittersweet Love was released in March 2012.
A Bittersweet Love (Hardcore Romance Erotica)by Arianna Moon
Lonely Elaine recounts the moments of passion with her lost love, Michael. Stripped away from her, she counts down the frigid winter nights until her love returns. But she can't help wonder if that fierce lust and that sweet love was lost long ago. She's left with her memories of him and her own touch to fulfill her needs, until her bittersweet love returns at last to… See more details below
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Lonely Elaine recounts the moments of passion with her lost love, Michael. Stripped away from her, she counts down the frigid winter nights until her love returns. But she can't help wonder if that fierce lust and that sweet love was lost long ago. She's left with her memories of him and her own touch to fulfill her needs, until her bittersweet love returns at last to reignite their fierce passion. WARNING: Contains scenes of explicit sex.
EXCERPT: The glow of my laptop illuminated the chipped nail polish at the tips of my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to paint them since he was taken from me. The bodies on the screen were entwined with one another, twisting and grinding so hard and so fast it was impossible for the camera to capture every detail. They were sweating more and more, with every thrust and moan.
It made me miss him.
I hadn’t touched myself since he was last with me, since he had last touched me, and I couldn’t help it any longer. My body ached for that feeling, whether it came from someone else’s fingers or my own. I forced myself to focus on the screen, to picture this other man, this stranger’s face, in the place of his. I was still angry at him, as much as I missed him, and after what he’d done to hurt us both I didn’t know if he deserved his place in my heart anymore.
But it was hopeless. Try as I might, I couldn’t picture anyone else. It was him. Always and only him.
I closed my eyes and moved my hand from the keyboard, slid it down the front of my pajama pants. I felt unkempt. It’d been a couple weeks since I’d trimmed—without him, there was no one to trim it for. I swallowed as I parted my legs, his face remaining foremost on my thoughts even as I tried to will it away. It was no use. I pictured his thick brown hair, his bright green eyes, and his soft velvet lips descending on me as I reached between my thighs for the warm, quivering mound between them that he had been so fond of touching, of caressing. The memory alone was enough to make me shiver. And then I slid my fingers slowly inside myself, imagining they were his.
- Arianna Moon
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