The Knocked Up Lust Bundle

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The Knocked Up Lust Bundle

Recent Releases

Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older. | Helping Out Holly

Putting Paige In Her Place

Two Sexy Students, One Stud Teacher

Lucy Learns Her Lesson

Taken by Teachers

Working Girl Wendy

What's next?

Further Reading: Gang Up: Lust War

About the Author

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G
ang Up: Overload

In this post-apocalyptic tale, Abigail's long-time lover Case has spurned her. She turns to the brutal biker gang Brall to make Case jealous...but Brall is too much of an alpha stud to just let a beauty like Abigail walk away!

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G
ang Up: Lust War

The post-apocalyptic biker gang war rages on between the studly warriors of the Family and the hunk soldiers of the Cauldron. Robin is trapped in her lies, and the only way out is to have her beautiful body served up to all the members of her gang at once.

The Unprotected Trance Series

Lifelong virgin Victor finds out the taste and touch of his manly seed puts women into deep, hypnotic trances—and he takes full advantage, conquesting every last babe he comes across!

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R
evenge On His Hot Assistants

All the women in Warren's life have betrayed him. He's drowning in debt, and nobody wants to see his stage hypnotist act. But then he finds a magic watch that lets him own the mind of anyone he comes across. Soon, he'll get everything and everyone he knows he deserves...

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F
emale Designs – Her Change In Style

This erotica is novella length! The super-serious Gloria Phine wears a strange pair of shoes, and soon she starts dressing sluttier and sluttier, and acts more and more like the gorgeous, sex-loving bimbo she’s always had hidden inside.

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H
ead positively brimming with confidence, Holly arrived at work ready to take on the world.

She had taken the morning off to get her hair done, and now her blond locks bounced jovially around her head in what she hoped was a rather sexy take on a Veronica-Lake-esque style, with a golden layer sliding fashionably right over her one eye.

She wore her purple top—the one with the ruffles that flattered her substantial chest, and didn't cling too close to her sides. More than most any other outfit, with this one, she felt actually attractive. She wished other tops could give her as much freedom to move in whatever direction she wanted without worrying what was popping out or what expanse of flesh was pressing too much into the cloth.

Her curvy nature made her constantly self-conscious, making her hate to wear tight jeans or t-shirts without jackets or sweaters on top of them. In an effort to feel better about herself, for the last few days, she had been dieting on nothing but salad and green tea. This was more for her own confidence than anything else—to be able to assure herself when the plan all went sour (
if
it all went sour, her simple threads of positivity desperately tried to remind her) that she had done everything she could have.

She always had been blessed with a lovely face—full lips and bright blue eyes that she hoped were her strongest attribute, at least physically. But her body always left her with something to be desired—more from herself, she hoped, than anyone else. Even so, it had been more than a year since she had gotten any action. That was a figure that grew more gloomy with every passing day—as if every time she slept alone was another check on a logbook of why she deserved to be lonely.

But no more! The resolution held strong as she stepped into the elevator of the building where she worked at, at least for the next few days. No more—she was attractive, she was hot, and she was going to land a man, by god.

Holly in fact felt a bit at-odds with herself when she judged herself so physically—she was a smart, versatile woman with an M.B.A. and ten years of experience in the finance sector. She knew how to make crème brûlée and understood the importance of voting regularly. Her hobbies fulfilled her (especially knitting, she loved to make scarves for her friends), and ran a halfway home for dogs out of her small home on the edge of the suburbs.

And still, today, she was obsessed with her looks and so often felt rather like a huge betrayal to her hard-fought values of independence and equality.

But she
was
lonely. Her dogs at home were fantastic little chaps, but they passed through her life quickly. Because she was good at training them, they only lasted with her for about ninety days before making their way to a happy new home.

And so today she was focused on her appearance; today was the day she was going to ask Rick out.

Holly’s job with her accounting firm had her taking up temporary residences in offices all across the big city as she performed audits both informal and formal. The latest company was Card Industries, owned by some eccentric billionaire who Holly had never seen nor met. Her time with them was coming to an end, however—only a few days left—and so the moment of truth was now. She
had
to ask Rick out.

For over a month now, she had been considering it. Their flirtations around the water cooler and coffee machine had been light, almost formal, but she was convinced he really wanted to go out with her. Over and over again, she had tried dropping hints to him about how she wanted him to ask her out, but to no avail.

He was shy, that was all.

Certainly, his shyness took a strange course, with the flashy red sports car that he drove, or those tiny-waisted big-breasted women that she saw him about town on when she grabbed drinks on Friday nights at the local pub or brewery.

Not that she was
following
him of course! But she couldn’t help it if there were only a handful of good, classy places in town to grab a decent beer, and she wasn't to blame if she and he both knew it.

So, she strolled up into the tenth floor of Card Tower, head held high. Her tight skirt swished as she walked, her modest heels clicking on the tile floor.

Her plan, initially, was to ask him right when she arrived at work. She saw him already at his desk, his handsome face scrunched in concentration at his cubicle. Pictures of his extended family were pinned to the gray wall of his area, and a dapper blazer hung in the corner.

She took a breath, stepping up toward him—and then promptly walked right past.

Upon further examination, her initial plan to ask him out right away had all sorts of problems with it.

What if he said no? Then she would be a mess all day and wouldn’t get
any
of her work done. Plus, he’d probably tell someone, or someone would hear, and then she would have to be in her office all day long thinking about who was talking about her.

She stepped into her office, setting down her bag and clearing her scarf over her head.

At the end of the day, then? No, no, couldn’t do that. Sometimes—she had noted, in her crush-survellience—Rick left early. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme nor reason to that schedule, but she knew that if she bet on him being there past three, it was a hard bet to cash in on.

Sliding down into her chair at her desk, she started to fiddle with a group of pens.

Well, the shyest and most awkward part of her considered, perhaps that was an excellent way to get out of this whole ordeal? Only ask him out if he’s leaving when you do. You can catch him in the hallway and just pull him aside for a moment, like you almost did three weeks ago when he was wearing that cute brown jacket and his jaw had looked so square and his face so handsome...

The pens in her hand squeezed under the stressing strain of her grip.

No, no! She had planned for too long to cop out like that. The morning was bad, that much was clear—and the end of the day was as well. That left the middle.

After lunch, perhaps? Or before it? The general concept of
around
lunch?

Yes, okay. Yes. That was a good excuse to sit and talk with him anyway. “Can I grab you a coffee? A scone? Some sugar packets?” And so on et cetera ad nauseum and other Latin terms she hoped were correct.

Good! A plan. A doable plan.

She spent the morning filing and crunching numbers. At this late stage of the operation, her job had mostly turned into tidying, and transforming the large mashing of numbers that she had accomplished over the previous thirty days into something easy to digest for her higher-ups. There were no real revelations left to find—unless she had made some enormous error in her pen-ultimate accounting more than a week ago.

Thus occupied, noon swung around quicker than she could have hoped.

Lunch time! It was signaled without announcement, everyone getting up from their desks almost in unison—some to the break room, others to the cafeteria down on the seventh floor.

Feeling rather crafty, she picked up a folder of materials for Rick—reports of his accounts on the audit. So, at the very least, if she chickened out at the very last possible second, she would have a reason to still be there and not look like a complete fool.

Downstairs, at the edge of the cafeteria, she saw Rick talking with a small group of his friends. For the life of her, she couldn't stop feeling like she was in high school.

“Hey,” she said to him, smiling brightly. “Could I talk with you for a second?”

“Sure.”

He walked with her to a corner of the hallway outside the cafeteria. Holly’s heart pounded hard and fast. The high school analogy continued in her head, and she felt like some unpopular band girl trying to ask out some jock.

With his easy, charming smile, gelled hair, broad shoulders, and long legs, he
looked
like a jock. A jock that she wanted to sink down to her knees in front of and suck the cock of like there was no tomorrow (or yesterday, or today).

“Is this about that Manchester report? “ he asked. “Because I really was never sure about those numbers...”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” She took a breath. “No, I was wondering if like, you had any plans tonight? There’s this great sushi place I know and I wanted to know if you’d like to grab dinner?”

Several beats passed. Holly's optimism slowly but surely fled out of her system with each one. The whole endeavor was dead from the start—she could tell from the look on his face. All she wanted for it to be now, inexplicably, was for it to be certain so she could go run home and never look at anyone ever again.

“Oh, wow,” his tone said, saying everything. “Listen, that's flattering, and everything, but . . . I mean. I was . . . I have a date already. A um, girlfriend. Right.” He shrugged. “Okay?”

“Oh.” Holly nodded, turning away. “It's just I sort of heard that you didn't. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have asked if I thought you did.”

“Ah.” He shrugged. “That's um . . . yup.”

He shrugged sort of helplessly, smiling, and then turned away.

She watched him walk back to his friends, turning the corner away from her.

Drat. Drat, drat, double drat.

Holly walked away—but then she stopped. She still had his paperwork—may as well give it to him now, avoid any future awkwardness.

At the corner, she heard laughter. Fearing the worst, she stopped and listened in.

“Wow, what a cow.”

It was like a knife twisting in her stomach. A slow, painful death, just for her.

“Right? I wouldn't let her suck you off, let alone me.”

“Gosh. Were you leading her on at all?”

“I guess a little. I wanted her to go easy on my audit, yeah? I mean, I was
pretty
sure of the numbers, but ever since that fiasco last year...”

Holly stepped out of hiding, her face full of pain. “Fuck you!”

She threw the folder of paperwork at Rick's head and stormed off to her office. Paper flew everywhere, harmless. All the guys around Rick looked at her in shock. And Rick—Rick especially, looked...sad?