Black Romance Author Novels & Stories

"You're a part of his world now, whether you like it or not." The next few days were a blur of research and half-hearted attempts to return to my normal life. Alex and his dark secrets felt like a siren call, impossible to ignore. I found myself at "Le Chateau de Sade" again, the BDSM shop, my thoughts racing with images of Alex and the bond between us. The scent of leather and musk filled my nose as I perused the racks. The shopkeeper, a knowing smile playing on her lips, watched me from behind the counter. She knew, of course. They all did. The supernatural community of New Orleans had a way of finding out these things. "Looking for something in particular, darling?" she purred.

My fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before I start typing the title. Looking for one of the following. My hands are sweating, but I push through, hitting the content box and starting to type again. Author here! This is going to sound like some crazy-ass request, but I’m at a loss, and I don’t believe all criminals are evil—not entirely anyway. I pause, rereading the line. It sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous. But I can’t stop now. I keep typing. So, here it is. I want to write a dark romance story. After many flops—not because of my writing, more like people just aren’t interested because my books aren’t different enough—I had another idea.

“Respect during the day, maybe. He won't touch you I guess. But when the beast takes over? No lycan has the patience to stay calm for a human, Raven. Teaching the beast to be gentle is hard work. Most lycans don’t bother. Why would they? Their own females can take the roughness. They heal faster. They crave it. You? You’re human. You're soft and fragile. One bad rut and he could tear you apart without even meaning to. You would be bleeding, shaking, begging him to stop… and his beast might not listen.” She brushed a thumb across my cheek, almost lovingly. “If love blooms by the end of the contract and once he knots you, you’re stuck there, impaled on him while he fills you over and over. The

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

FICTION COME TRUE BOOK 1 Intro; Alessia Bellandi is a best seller dark romance author who has built her success writing about men who consume women whole. She writes about obsessive, dominant alpha males who are not just dangerous but attentive. Our reclusive writer lives a quiet life and she’s a socially awkward girl who lives in a quiet apartment that smells faintly of paper, ink, and the vanilla candles she forgets to blow out properly when writing. She writes about book men like a woman full and wild with experience which is quite the opposite of this dear author for she has never actually experienced life quite yet!

My eyes rolled back as the pain was too much. Tears didn't stop neither my whimpers as he kept on sucking my shoulders leaving his marks behind. I whimpered as he pulled my skin taking it between his teeth... He was kept on sucking on the same spot of my shoulder. My body started to get weaker and weaker. I heard his last words before everything blacked out... Author Pov. Damon was kept on biting Luciana's shoulder. He was making his mark on her mole... The second his eyes came in contact with her mole. A weird urge to make his mark on it raised in him...

Still, everything he was saying unnerved and excited every fiber of my being in the same instant. I knew it was foolish. I also knew I couldn’t possibly take another round, yet here I was, winding my body with his, begging without words for him to keep going. Until this moment, I’d chalked up the romance novels I read to fantasy. Ludicrous notions of perfection that no one could achieve outside their dreams. There’s always something. A cough, a fart, even hair in the worst possible place—something jarring the all-consuming sensations back to realism. But this? This wasn’t that. He wasn’t that.

“Damien not glued to your side today? Odd. He tends to keep his… projects close.” Serena’s brows drew together. “What exactly are you implying?” “Oh, come now.” Camille stepped closer, her perfume cloying, her smile widening. “You don’t honestly think you’re the first, do you? Damien has a pattern. Swoops in, plays the saviour, dresses his women up like trophies, parades them around… and when he’s bored, he doesn’t just walk away. He breaks them. Quietly. Completely.” Serena’s jaw tightened, though her voice stayed steady. “Thanks for the unsolicited TED Talk on Damien Drake, but I’ll pass.”

Blackwood Enterprises was written in bold letters at the top. My eyes darted to the open notebook sitting right on his bed. There were notes on "rival syndicate" and "leverage on Victor." They were tied to danger? My heart raced. I heard footsteps and rushed out of the room and right back to mine. My heart was thumping hard when I leaned against the closed door. The phone in my hand buzzing nearly gave me a cardiac arrest. It was only a text message from Damien. "See you at midnight by the pool house or I will come for you."

My lips crashed against hers, demanding, forcing her to open up, to give in to me. I felt her stiffen, her breath catching in her throat, but she didn’t pull away. She let me have her, let me take what was mine. I felt the pulse of her heart beneath my touch, erratic and confused, like she was fighting the urge to fight me. But she wouldn’t fight. Not anymore. I knew it. I deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, her body rigid in my arms as I drank from her mouth like a man starved. The taste of her was bitter, like everything else about her—an amalgamation of fear, submission, and something darker, something broken.