Dark Abusive Romance Books Novels & Stories

Enjoy! Also, If you crave intense, slow-burn, dark, taboo romance with a deliciously dark edge, dripping with passion, obsession, secrets, tension, and twists that will test every boundary and leave you gasping for more, check out my new book, MATED TO MY OBSESSIVE STEP-BROTHER.

I moaned, unable to stop it. “Look at you,” he said, his voice was low. “All shy and trembling. But you’re not a nun yet.” He leaned closer, his breath was warm on my cheek. “Let’s make sure you never want to be.” Then his voice dropped into a growl. “You’re my filthy little angel tonight. So go ahead… confess your sins to Daddy.” --- TO BE CONTINUED… --- Author's Note: Hey everyone, thanks for checking out my story! I've been so excited to share Mirabel's journey with you all. I've always been fascinated by stories about forbidden love and impossible choices, and this one has been a blast to write.

His hand stopped its lazy exploration of my breast. “N-no,” I stuttered, afraid I had offended him. In one smooth motion, he rolled me onto my back and settled between my spread thighs, caging me beneath his powerful body. His dark eyes burned into mine with raw intensity. “Then why don’t I show you that you are mine… and no one else’s.” --- He didn’t wait for my answer. Lord Blackwood kissed me deeply, claiming my mouth as he positioned himself at my entrance. I was still sore from last night, but the moment his thick cock pushed inside me in one long, slow stroke, pleasure overrode the ache.

Until Rhiannon walked into that hotel room with her dead eyes and her broken wolf and her mouth. Until she looked up at me and I saw that fire. Buried deep under all the damage and the grief and the years of being treated like nothing. That fire that hadn't gone out. That stubborn, stupid, beautiful fire that refused to die even though everything around it was ash. And my wolf didn't pace. It didn't snarl. It sat down. Right there in my chest. And it purred. I hated it. I hated her for it. I hated that she made me feel something. I hated that she made me want something. I hated that after thirty-eight years of being stone cold, this woman, this broken, bleeding, beautiful woman, walked in an

I moaned, my body pressing against his, my hands grasping his arms, holding on for dear life as he kissed me. He pushed me back against the bookshelf, his hands roaming my body, his touch igniting sparks, making me gasp, making me moan. He grabbed my breasts, brushing his thumb against my nipples, making them hard, making me arch into him. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, his need, his desire, his...dominance. "Fuck, Emma," he groaned, his voice filled with raw need. "You lips feel so fucking good. I’ve always wanted to claim you, to make you mine, to fuck you in your most treasured place.”

“And now… now you’re standing here, naked, knowing I was the one who was going to walk through that door.” She opened her mouth to speak, probably to deny it all, to weave another layer of deception, but I didn’t let her. I was done with words. I was done with her games. My cock sprang free from my pants, thick and angry, a testament to every night I’d spent in torment, every stolen glance, every forbidden thought. I stroked it once, twice, my eyes burning into hers, letting her see the full, raw extent of what she had unleashed. “If you want to taste daddy so bad,” I said through clenched teeth, the words a venomous promise, “if you want him so fucking much, then crawl to me. Right fucking

But then the sunlight dimmed, shadows creeping across the field like ink spilled on canvas. Her face blurred, the edges melting into darkness. A sharp, searing pain tore through my chest as I saw the bright red stain spread across her white dress, blood blooming like a cruel flower. "No! Valentina!" I screamed, my voice breaking, tears burning my eyes. "Please don't leave me! You promised!" Her smile was the last thing I saw before she vanished, swallowed by shadows. --- I jolted awake, heart pounding wildly, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead. The cool night air kissed my damp skin as I tried to steady my ragged breathing. My room was cloaked in darkness, moonlight slipping through the

His carefree attitude about it, kinda pissed me off, and I snapped at him, “No, you’re not listening!” He startled and sat back a bit, then replied sweetly, “Okay, babe, calm down. I'm sorry, I'll keep quiet and let you finish.” He squeezed my hands urging me to continue. I took in a deep breath and continued, “I don't mean a little bit jealous, T. I mean this weird burning anger that took over my entire body, and I felt a huge surge of electricity inside me.” He frowned but let me continue without interrupting. “I wanted to rip her apart, and I don't understand how I was able to beat her up. I know she's a werewolf.”

When was the last time you ate? Me: Uh… Dane: Seriously? Me: I have a bad memory. Dane: My palm is twitching. Me: Sir! Dane: Yes? Me: Are you saying you want to… Dane: Spank you? Yes. One hundred percent. I squealed quietly, as if he could hear me if I were too loud. Everything about Dane was intense. Even when he was joking, he was intense. I’m literally an abuse victim. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I like this? Why do I want this? This should scare me, but it doesn’t. I’ve read enough dark romance books with werewolf daddies, mafia men, and Doms to know it isn’t scary. That it can be good if done with the right person. The image of Dane Wetness pooled between my legs.

Then he pushes his cock even deeper and we both moan like animals I know this dark romance can destroy everything. It is very bad. It is disgusting. It is the worst kind of sin. But every time his thick cock slides into my wet cunt, every time he slaps my ass and calls me his dirty stepdaughter whore, every time his hot cum leaks out of me later while I sit with my family, I feel more alive than ever. The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier