Prisoner of My Heart — An Erotic Short Story

25 min readDec 15, 2021

“Neil grasped Rose’s knees gently but firmly and looked up at her, eyes wide. “Let me taste you,” he exhaled. She surrendered, spreading her legs wide along the car’s front seat. With another low growl, he reached under her skirt, pulled aside her panties, bowed his head and began lapping at the core of her.”

Rose Cavanaugh ran away from her abusive husband, Sean, and found a semblance of peace in a quaint Southern town. Lonely, frightened and betrayed, she thought she’d never find happiness, much less love, ever again.

Then Rose meets Neil, and hope blooms anew. She’s instantly drawn to this tall, dark, stranger, and when she unexpectedly saves his life in a freak accident, he becomes part of her life. But Neil’s sudden appearance is no random event: he’s a private investigator hired by Sean to find his runaway bride. Despite an immediate attraction to Rose, Neil is torn between longing for her and duty to his client… until he learns the terrible truth about the reason Rose ran away.

As Rose and Neil draw closer to surrender and each other, unseen forces are closing in, threatening the fragile peace Rose has fought so hard to win, and endangering the new love she’s only just found…

Written by Lori Dixon
Published by

ROSE pulled off the interstate and parked outside the Gas ‘n Sip; staring blankly out the dusty windshield of her beaten-up brown sedan, she had to tell herself to unclench her death-grip on the steering wheel three times before it loosened. She took a deep breath and braved twenty feet of searing-hot asphalt to get to the convenience store. Inside, the air was frosty enough to make her nipples stand to attention, even under the jean jacket she used to conceal all the bruises; she crossed her arms to cover their rigid points as she stretched her legs striding down one aisle, then the next.

She stopped in front of the magazine display, staring without seeing the scads of glossy smiles, manufactured dramas and celebutante scandals. “I belong on Maury Povich,” she thought. “When did my life get so messed up?” She kept her arms crossed to hide how much she was shaking, only cold on the inside now. She blinked rapidly; searching for some image or story in the dissipation splayed…



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