Dark Captive Romance Books Novels & Stories

Not dark and dangerous. “Have you done this before?” He walked back toward me slowly, gently tapping the blindfold against his palm. I shook my head, unable to speak. I stepped back slowly as he approached. His gaze was dark and predatory—and I loved it. I really did. “Shall I be the first?” he asked. I didn’t know whether to say yes or no. I stopped when my back hit the wall and leaned against the cold tile. “I’ll take your silence as a yes, kitty,” he smirked. One hand traced lazy patterns along my hip while the other rested on the wall above my head. He leaned in close—so close I could still smell champagne on his breath.

“I need to get Derek out of here.” But just as I reached for the door, her voice echoed in my head again. “To bring this kind of Alpha back, will demand more power on my path.” I stopped. My hand hovered over the door. I could still feel Derek’s shallow breaths behind me. He was alive, but barely. If there was any chance of saving him… I clenched my jaw. “Power like that doesn’t come from sex,” I muttered under my breath. But she heard me. “Oh, sweet Lisa,” the witch cooed. I turned and saw her standing in the center of the fire, untouched by the flames. “Sex is creation. Destruction. Binding. Life and death. You think healing is gentle? It’s not. It demands sacrifice.”

A smile found my lips in the dark behind my closed eyes. Subtle. Secretive. Belonging to no one but me. I was no longer just Georgia Mason, the flawless acquisition, the diamond princess preserved and displayed and maintained to someone else's precise specifications. I had become something else tonight under a bookstore awning in the rain. Something dangerous. Something that had remembered, in the press of warm hands and a mouth that meant what it did, that it was free. She left the water on the marble. The small rebellions are where it starts. -- J

I leaned back on the leather couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the shoulder of ruby, one of the girls that worked at the club house She sat beside me fumbling with my buttons as I maintained an eye level with the much older woman sitting opposite me. The woman had a long dark wavey hair, and deep green eyes just like the ocean. Ruby's body pressed against mine in a way that was all performance. Asides Raven, Ruby was my best girl. She was a perfect distraction, a warm body to celebrate with. My thoughts ran back to Damien Blackwood. The untouchable CEO, the man who thought he owned Manhattan. Captured like a rat in a trap by me. The ambush had been perfect, and my men had hauled him ou

It will be the second book. Thankyou for supporting me. You can check out my other two books here and also on Dreâme a.pp by A. Gupta, if you're interested in Dark Romance and Anti heroes. @Gupta

I didn’t want to want him this much. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But it was. In the silence between us, filled only with ragged breaths and the pulse of need, the world outside seemed to fade away. The danger, the bombs, the lies—it all disappeared. All that was left was him. And I was falling, deeper into the darkness, unable to stop myself. And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to. 1 AQSA The smell of smoke and burning metal clung to the air as I stepped over the debris.

Dame’s grip on my throat tightens, cutting off my air just enough to make my vision spot. “That’s it,” Dame murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Take his cock like a good slut.” Carl sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against my ass, his balls slapping against me with every thrust. I can feel him everywhere, filling me, owning me. Dame’s hand slides down my chest, his fingers finding my clit again, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. “You’re ours,” Dame growls. “Say it.” “I’m yours,” I gasp, my voice breaking. “Both of yours !, fuck!”

The words spilled out filthy and angry but they made my thighs press together, because damn it I was addicted to how he wanted me. Damien grabbed the photos from my hand and tossed them aside, then pulled me flush against his chest. “Every fucking night,” he admitted, voice low and honest as his mouth brushed my ear. “I look at you in those frames and remember how your pussy clenched around me. How you moaned my name like you couldn’t get enough. You’re mine in ways no one else gets. Don’t act like you hate it. I feel how wet you are right now.” His hand slid under my skirt, fingers rubbing slowly and firm.

"You want a puppet who'll nod and smile. However, now the puppet's strings are cut, and you're freaking out." Francis' expression turned icy. "I'm not freaking out." "Then why switch my meds?" I asked, a challenge. "You're terrified. Terrified that without those drugs, I'll realize I don't love…" His response was to kiss me, a fierce, angry kiss. I fought back, but he held me by the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. He had bitten my lip. It was a kiss unlike any other in the ten years I had known him, fueled by both lust and a need to punish.

Viktor looked at Nyra. “You still choose difficult company.” “Still breathing too confidently,” she replied. He laughed softly. “Straight to hostility. I missed that.” Sebastian took one step forward. “Why here?” Viktor’s expression shifted. “Because places like this remind people what they pretend to believe in.” His gaze sharpened. “And because grief sounds louder in abandoned rooms.” Sebastian’s hand tightened. “You brought my wife into this twice now.” “I brought memory. You supplied pain.” Nyra saw it happen before Sebastian moved—the precise second restraint broke.