Dark Romance Fiction Novels & Stories

“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.”

Lena trembled in my arms, her body limp, her breath shaky. Mine. My fingers trailed along her spine, slow, possessive. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?" I murmured. She didn’t answer. Didn’t fight me. She couldn’t. I turned her in my arms, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at me. Her eyes were distant, glazed over with the horror of what she had done. But there was something else there too. Something dark. Something that would grow. I grinned. I brushed my lips over hers—not quite a kiss, more of a claim.

(Lucas’ Pov– A Few Days Ago) The dim glow of the fireplace cast flickering shadows across the walls, illuminating the room in a soft, eerie light. Outside, the waves crashed against the rocky cliffs of the island, their relentless rhythm matching the simmering rage that had lived inside me for years. I leaned back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as Rico sat across from me, his fingers tapping against the polished wooden table. His dark eyes studied me with a mix of curiosity and unease.

That’s what should have crossed my mind when I woke up to him between my legs, but that’s not what happened. I read dark romance all the time. Zero triggers. I can read somnophilia, but going through it? Waking up from it? I didn’t think I’d be able to do it without being dragged into the hell that is my past. I never thought I’d ever be okay with being woken up with physical touch, or anything close to sexual.

He offered and handed his pill to me, bringing a bright smile to my face. "Thanks bro." I thanked him, and he winked, rushing out. That was how he saved me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my secret would be exposed. This was a dangerous path to tread—the type that would bring disaster and death at the end. It was that type of romance that has no happy ending. I knew this, and I should stay away. The best option was to kill her and save myself from falling harder, but my powers are weak in front of her.

“You’re welcome, but for what?” “Everything.” That, along with the deeper kiss he pressed to her lips, was answer enough. ****** Author’s Notes I love futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and/or dystopian fiction. I wouldn’t want to live it, of course, but it’s fun to imagine how bad things could get, and how good people would function in the aftermath. In this book, I also explored a bit how harsh times make even good people do some questionable things. Can you forgive a good character if he (or she) does something morally ambiguous for the ones they love? I like complex characters and questions like that. I hope I gave a modicum of competency to exploring the idea.

Her legs remained wrapped around his waist and when he went deeper, she gasped and that gave him the chance to clash his lips against hers, with his tongue gliding in and sucking hers. “We're nowhere over, kitten. You asked for this and I'll give It to you,” Dylan mumbled, gripping her thighs and rocking his hips against hers, his trust hitting parts that made her see stars. ******************************* After some weeks, Brittany could get along with some friends and coarse mates in Notre Dame. She was extremely close to Fiona, her roommate. They shared items, meals, and even secrets. Brittany had told her about her forbidden crush on her uncle and Fiona had also shared her secrets about

“Now.” I shouted his name as my orgasm crashed over me and cum shot between us again, hot and messy. Rafael buried himself deep and groaned loud. His cock pulsed inside me filling me with thick loads and we came together with our bodies locked tight and breathing hard. He kept moving slowly through the aftershocks, milking every drop. The steel collar felt heavy around my neck and I knew right then I could not escape this. The guilt was still there but the hunger was stronger and Rafael had ruined me for anyone else.

But the truth is simple in a way most people wouldn’t understand. I have a dangerously high libido and I’m NEVER sexually satisfied. And because of that, every relationship I’ve had seems to end the same way. The first one called me “too intense.” He said I made him feel like he was always trying to keep up with something he couldn’t understand. We lasted two weeks after having a threesome with his crazy elder brothers. Even then, it felt like I’d just started. They didn’t satisfy me at all—sexually or otherwise. I barely even came.

Still, the way he said it, like the words made me feel small. “Tell me, Snow,” he pressed, voice dipping lower. “What kind of books do you read?” My stomach dropped and panic fluttered in my chest. If he knew, if he even suspected. The facade I’d built so carefully for my parents would crumble to dust. He couldn’t know that behind closed doors, I consumed more dark romance and filth than any good girl should. The sound of the front door swinging open snapped the moment in half. I blinked, tearing my gaze away just in time to see my dad stride in. Relief flooded me so fast my knees almost buckled.