Dark Smutty Books Novels & Stories

Amazing, what is a better way to distract yourself than reading some dark romance books filled with smut. I got in the library and instantly felt a bit calm. Grabbing my favourite four books I got seated in a cosy comfortable corner, and started reading. An hour later I closed the fourth book in my hands as I groaned frustratingly. For god sake what's wrong with me? I couldn't even read a single book completely. I tried to read them for fifteen minutes and then put them aside while picking up another book. All of these books are my fucking comfort favourite books that I have re-read for so many times. The books whose MMC are my, to heart, book boyfriends.

The faint scent of something dark and expensive lingering in the air wood, spice, something almost smoky. Elias ran a finger along the spines, scanning titles. History. Economics. Philosophy. Control disguised as curiosity, he thought absently. He crouched to reach the lower shelf, pulling out one book, then another. When he straightened, his elbow brushed the desk. Something slid. He caught it automatically before it hit the floor. A matchbook. Black. Matte. Thick cardstock. Elias stared at it. His pulse kicked hard enough to make his ears ring.

Some canvases were broken, as if in frustration. Next, I visited the library. Many of the books were old and hopelessly confusing. Most incomprehensible of all were the ritual books, which made up the bulk of his library. There were only a few novels, and judging by the dust, they hadn’t been touched in years. Evidently, Salem was not the sort of man who read for pleasure.

My library professor whose deep commanding voice made my thighs clench during lectures. The man I’d fantasized about bending me over these very tables and fucking me senseless until I can’t remember my name. I opened the book, and the dedication page read: For those who crave quiet darkness.” My breath hitched. I flipped to the next page and started reading. “She knelt before him in the silence of stacks, skirts pushed high, panties already soaked. “Read it out,” He ordered. “Every filthy word, while I taste how wet you’ve become for me.”

Whatever it was, he was good and big in it. He was prospering in his legal businesses and the illegal ones were topnotch seeing how everyone knew of him… a crude handsome fox. Dylan was the number one in his business and to crown it all, here I was going through his stuff. Though his room was plain, the amount of files in there wasn't. So many trades, treaties, allegiance and the rest and there were books. I reached out and took one of them, the books weren't outdated because I knew every single one. ‘His’ by Aubrey Dark, ‘ Haunting Adeline’ , ‘The Priest’ by Sierra Simone.

Southpoint Pack never failed to make me feel like a fumbling idiot. The door swung open, somehow silent despite its size, and the smell hit me first. Old paper. Dust. Then something else. Ancient. Sacred. The libraries in Evenmoor didn’t smell like this. Sure, there was the scent of old paper, dust, and older people's perfume, but there was something beneath all that. Could it have been the magic that these people used? Or some werewolf scent? I stepped inside and— Oh. Books. Thousands of them. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall. More books than I’d ever seen in my entire life. More books than existed in all of Evenmoor combined.

I did not dare to open it. Before we could even settle into silence, the servant arrived with a platter of drinks. I thanked him as a glass of scotch was offered to me—though I would not drink it. “How are things fairing for you, Rueben?” I asked, looking around me at the walls of books. The words “Kama Sutra” passed by eye, along with some photo albums, which surely held revolting images inside. If not his stupidity, Reuben was also notorious for his promiscuity.

The red gemstone had a faint glow that seemed to flicker continually. What were these things? Xyla and Stanley immediately exchanged glances. “How did this happen? The weather changed so suddenly just now," Xyla wondered out loud. "Someone deliberately left us these things. But what’s the meaning of this? "Honey, let's open the book and see what’s inside.” Stanley frowned but obeyed and opened the book, noticing a distinct scent of bibliosmia typically found in organic materials. The pages within were dark yellowish, looking somewhat aged.

Low and restrained, not harsh, not passionate — the voice of a man who had learned to weigh words in the balance. Leya opened the door. Samuel Ithis Blackwood crouched under a fire-charred titanic walnut desk. The bookshelves loomed above him, rank after rank of books that scented the air with power and dust. The lantern cast but a dim spear into the room, and the golden amber shadows danced on his face. The one held a glass of brandy in it. The second was placed on a sheet of paper, as if the ink of the paper was too much to lie on something alive, yet claimous.

When I'm done in the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of white wine, savoring the tangy scent that rises from the glass. My eyes drift over to my bookcase in the living room, and I pad towards it. I let my hand caress the spines of several books before I halt at the one I am currently reading. It's a dark romance with heavy smut, gory violence and a male lead so morally grey you could call it pitch black. Love it!