Erotica by Shannon

The shop smelled of Nag Champa—her favorite incense. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent wrapped around her like a soft shawl, instantly soothing the ache she hadn't realized she was still carrying. It had only been a few weeks since the breakup, but the memory was still sharp. She'd planned a surprise—fresh sheets, a new down comforter, a quiet gesture of love. No occasion, just a moment to make him feel cherished. She hadn't seen any cars in the driveway and assumed he was at work. There was no need to circle around back; the front was clear. She let herself in, the house silent, just as she expected. But upstairs, behind the bedroom door, everything changed. She didn't scream. Didn't cry. Just stood there, frozen, as the scene unfolded—her boyfriend tangled in bed with his best friend's wife. The sheets and comforter slipped from her hands, forgotten. She turned and walked out, her heart hollowed by betrayal. Since then, she'd returned only ...

I met you in kiss and flame,  Reached for truth beneath the skin,  Trembled close to where you feel,  Afraid to name this aching truth.

The Drawer That Knows Me My fingers hover above the keys, trembling with anticipation. A slow, delicious warmth unfurls between my thighs, pulsing beneath the soft cotton that barely conceals my desire. The drawer calls to me—silent, patient, and full of promise. But I resist. For now. If I finish this piece, the reward will be richer, more decadent. Delayed gratification is its own kind of foreplay. I can almost feel her—cool, smooth, and polished—pressing against my skin. I lick my lips, imagining the moment she’ll slide across my stomach, firm and familiar, ready to fill me with pleasure. She’s been mine for years, tucked away in that drawer like a secret lover waiting for her cue. She knows my rhythms. My cravings. My surrender. And tonight, she’ll deliver again. The pulse between my legs grows louder, more insistent. I stop typing. Rational thought dissolves. The drawer wins.