Doctor Romance Novels Novels & Stories

“You have given me a gift beyond measure, Mia. Not only your blood, but your unwavering trust and unconditional love. I am forever grateful for your presence in my immortal life.” I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, tasting the remnants of my blood. “And I am grateful for you, Jonathan. You’ve shown me a world of passion and devotion that I never thought possible. Drinking my blood is just another way for us to explore the depths of our connection.” As our lips parted, we sat there, locked in a moment of shared understanding and love.

Why did you get so drunk? Romance him... How could I romance a man as rough and hard as you? Can I handle it? Can I really do it? I don't even know anything about that thing. How can I do it properly? “I guess, I will need to make some research about that.”

It would make sense that the hotel would cater to its clientele. The rings were probably so a Dom could chain his sub up, she felt very pleased with herself for working that one out, she had never been involved in a Dom/sub relationship before but she was getting the hang of it pretty quickly. Or so she thought. What surprised rosa the most was that it didn't seem to resemble any of the popular theories people seemed to have outside of the lifestyle. Axel wasn't crazy and neither was she for that matter, she bad her insecurities but she considered that to be normal for a woman who carried extra weight.

He looked surprised. I take a step back to let Lorenzo do the questioning. He sits on the stool I sat on to interrogate Daniel. "Who sent you", he growls out. I felt a shiver crawl up on me from hearing him growl out. "T…the R…Russians", he said avoiding my gaze. Before Lorenzo could say Anything,I charged forward with the question that had been on my mind. "Why did he send you to rape me", I growled out. " H..he wanted to know if you were special to the Don of the Italian Mafia. I guess now he knows his answer huh?

Even if he was mad at me. “If this will get you to finally leave me alone, then I’ll tell you,” he continued, his voice edged with annoyance. “Dylan and I are broken up. I didn’t cheat on him and I’d never do that to anyone. And yes, you were a rebound. That was all you were that night. A convenient distraction. An escape. Satisfied now?” His words had the intended effect. Fire lit up in my veins, licking through my entire body dangerously. He wanted to make me angry, as angry as I’d made him, and he was definitely succeeding.

He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny. “Your husband probably thinks you're too old for this. Bet he's never seen you this soaked. Never heard the way you moan when someone else is in control.” He was right. So fucking right. I had never gotten this wet for my husband. I do get wet, though, but not dripping like this. It was because he never did foreplay. He just went straight into sex, and I hated it, because I loved being touched the way Nikolai was touching me right now.

I barely even came. My second boyfriend tried to “fix me” like I was a problem to solve. He lasted five days before I got tired of pretending I was normal. But even in those five days, I was already craving something deeper than what he could give. And I hate to say this, but hell no, he has the tiniest dick I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Believe me, his dick was about the same size as my nipples when they’re aroused. My third boyfriend said I was draining him. I told him I wasn’t the one begging for distance every time things got real.

His touch was precise and absolutely without warmth, the way a physician's hands are precise, the way the hands of any man with a task are precise when he intends to do it correctly. He did not kiss me. Not once. I had thought about this, in the abstract, in the months of our engagement when I had performed the specific futility of imagining what intimacy with Josiah Mason might feel like. I had not anticipated the absence of it so completely. Every romance, every story I had ever absorbed had organized itself around the kiss as the threshold, the first crossing, the beginning of something. His mouth never found mine. He was thorough and he was silent and the kiss simply did not exist in wha

Especially not her husband. Lord Grant had approached intimacy like duty. Quick touches in dark rooms. Cold hands. Mechanical affection was offered only for the possibility of producing an heir. Arabella had spent three years believing perhaps passion simply did not exist for women like her. But now— Now merely remembering Edwin’s gaze made heat curl low inside her stomach. She rose suddenly from the chair. Restless. Achingly restless. Her heart pounded harder with every passing moment until finally she could no longer remain trapped inside the manor.

“It’s… complicated.” “Complicated means hot,” she says, eyes sparkling. “It’s Damien Wolfe,” I mutter. Maya gasps so hard I’m afraid she might choke. “Mr. Penthouse?! Mr. Tall, dark, ruined-your-womb-with-a-glance Damien Wolfe?!” I groan. “You make it sound worse.” She grabs a pillow and clutches it dramatically. “Girl, you are playing with the kind of fire that burns souls. That man is a volcano in a suit.”