Dracula Bedroom Novels & Stories

*** “Get back here Bella. Do not even try because you can't get away from me, and do not let me catch you myself.” “I don't want to have anything to do with you," she retorted angrily. “Oh, sweetheart, that is totally on you. Do you know how long I have been invested in you?” “You kidnapped me and brought me here. I don't want to be here and I'm not letting you touch me," her voice was so strong. He loved her challenge: it only made him harder. "Me touching you is definitely happening. You absolutely can't resist it for too long: you can only enjoy it now,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. With that, he quickly ran around the kitchen counter and caught her. “Got you… You can't run away from me Bella; no matter how hard you try I will always find you. “Let me go… now,” she shouted. “Not when I'm still breathing baby, you will love every single thing I do to you” he carried her over his shoulder to the bedroom… At a young age, Mirabella Antonio lost everything. Her parents died suddenly in a car crash. They died with a debt tagged to their names. A year later, her older brother, David was murdered in cold blood, trying to keep her safe and pay off the debt their parents owed. And the man at the center of it all was Hunter Groves. Four years later, he saw her again. He wants her. And Hunter doesn’t ask. He only takes. She opposed him in every way possible but he took her in every way possible. He is determined to imprint himself on her body and soul and that he did. Note; Dark romance; Male lead is a totally obsessed psychopath. ***Trigger warnings***

My perfect life as a perfect wife shattered the moment I walked into my matrimonial bedroom and found my husband cheating with my charity case. I wanted a divorce. He offered me a deal instead. An open marriage. No love. No loyalty. No questions asked—just a quiet agreement to protect our company while we took what we wanted from whoever we wanted. I said yes—not because I accepted it… but because I refused to be the only one left with nothing. One night at a bar was supposed to be my rebellion—a reckless escape to wash the humiliation out of my skin. Instead, it led me straight into the arms of Lucien and Dominic Voss. Two men who look like sin and power wrapped in expensive suits. Two men who don’t touch gently… and don’t stop once they start. I should have walked away the moment their hands found me. Should have ignored the way they made me feel—like I wasn’t broken… just waiting to be undone. I didn’t know one of them was already my mistake. Didn’t know both of them were completely forbidden. After all… they were my husband’s uncles. Now every glance lingers too long. Every touch burns deeper than it should. And every time they say my name, it sounds less like temptation… and more like a claim. Julian thinks he broke me. He has no idea he handed me to men who don’t share, men who don’t let go, men who are slowly teaching me just how dangerous desire can become. And while he stands on the sidelines watching what it feels like to be replaced, I’m taking back everything that belongs to me. Including the parts of me that should have stayed buried.

“Tell me again,” he murmured, his bare chest a hot, dangerous brand against her back. His teeth grazed the shell of her ear, making her shudder. “How you want me to treat you.” She clutched the silk sheets, dragging them up to her chin, hating the tremor in her voice. “I—I want you to be professional.” A low, dark laugh ghosted over her damp skin. “Then stop looking at me like that.” His amused, arctic-blue eyes held hers captive in the bedroom mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what in the world she’d gotten herself into. ^ ^ ^ Isabella Rossi’s life shattered when she discovered her boyfriend’s affair with her best friend, Chloe. The happy couple were even expecting a baby, and she was supposed to be happy for them. Hah. Heartbreak was just the beginning. Drunk and deceived, she woke up in the bed of a powerful, enigmatic stranger—Vincent Sinclair. She thought it was a one-time, humiliating mistake. A secret she would bury forever. Until Monday morning, when Vincent Sinclair strolled into her office as the new, ruthless CEO. And she found out he was her ex-best friend Chloe’s half-brother. Flustered but confident, she met his eyes. Men like him didn’t remember girls like her. She was sure of it. He was most likely just an entitled playboy and the faces in his bed probably blurred. But oh, how wrong she was. Vincent Sinclair remembered everything. Finding his "one-night stand" playing the part of a forgettable employee was his new favorite amusement. First, he made her his personal secretary. Then, he made her life a living, tempting hell. Finally, he served her a contract. Not for a raise—for marriage. It was absurd. But with her life in shambles and his offer too lucrative, Isabella signed.

At 10:00 pm sharp, a food deliveryman wearing a cap knocks on the door of Unit 502. "Excuse me, are you the one who ordered delivery?" Unit 502 is an apartment that's rented out to multiple people. There are three rooms here altogether. The one opening the door is my roommate, William Yates. He has his headphones on and is currently immersed in a game. So, he waves a hand impatiently. "It wasn't me." The deliveryman wastes no time in pulling out a machete. Immediately, he slashes William's throat in one fluid motion. Next, the deliveryman opens the door leading to another bedroom while holding the takeout. "Did you order delivery?" That room belongs to a gym trainer named Leon Holton. He's obviously taken aback by the deliveryman's presence. "Nope. Who are—" The deliveryman doesn't give Leon a chance to finish his question. He reacts by plunging the machete into Leon's heart. When I'm done with my shower, I open the bathroom door to see large puddles of blood on the floor as well as the deliveryman, who's wielding a machete. "They weren't the ones who ordered delivery. Did you do it?" Scared out of my wits, I subconsciously shake my head. "It's not me! I don't know anything—" Before I can finish speaking, the deliveryman hacks me to death. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back five minutes in time before I get murdered in cold blood. Almost immediately, I rush out of the bathroom, only to see the alarmed expressions plastered all over William's and Leon's faces. That's when I'm certain that everyone has gotten reborn. Suddenly, the doorbell rings loudly. A suppressed masculine voice echoes afterward. "Excuse me, are you the one who ordered delivery?"

"Spread your fucking legs for Daddy…" The moment those growled words hit my ears, my thighs trembled, going weak at the knees. I swallowed hard, my throat dry with envy, aching to be the one spread wide and commanded by that deep, dominant voice. Heat flooded my core, soaking my panties with slick arousal, my pussy clenching desperately around nothing. Like the foolish, needy girl I was, I nudged the door open just a crack, peeking into the dim light of his bedroom to see who he was claiming on that massive bed. But shock slammed into me—Alpha Kane wasn't with anyone else. He lounged against the headboard, his massive hand wrapped around his thick, veined cock, stroking it slow and firm while his piercing eyes locked on a spread of my photos scattered across the sheets. Pictures of me in innocent poses, but the way he pumped his shaft, pre-cum beading at the tip and dripping down his length, turned them filthy in his gaze. **** I'd been just ten when rogues tore through our pack in a brutal war, slaughtering my parents and leaving me orphaned in the blood-soaked ruins. Alpha Kane Laskovic had charged in like a storm, ripping through the attackers with savage fury, saving me and the survivors. He became my guardian, my armored knight, pulling me from the ashes and raising me under his powerful protection. I was supposed to call him Dad—respectful, safe. Not Daddy, not while fantasizing about him pinning me down, growling filthy commands as he fucked me raw, claiming every inch of my body as his. But gods, I couldn't stop. The taboo hunger burned too hot, making me crave his cum flooding my womb, marking me as his forbidden little slut.

I should have been walking down the aisle. Instead, I was running through the woods in my wedding dress. The white fabric caught on every branch, tearing apart like my life. My name is Camela Siegel. My father is the Mayor, and he sold me to save himself. Vincent Castellano was supposed to be my husband. They call him the Mad Prince, but I learned he’s so much worse than that. His hands trembled when he touched me—sometimes gentle, like I might break, and sometimes rough, like he wanted to overpower me. “You’re mine now,” he’d whisper in the dark corners of that house. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to hurt you but me.” I tried the door handle every day for three months. It only turned from the outside. When help finally came, I thought it was over. I thought I could go home and pretend none of it ever happened. I was wrong. Vincent found my journal—the one where I wrote about him, about what he did to me, and about who he truly is. Now he’s not just keeping me locked up. He’s hunting me. They call him “The Fox” for a reason. He’s patient and waits. When he catches what he’s after, he never lets it go. I can feel him watching me even now—through my bedroom window, from across the street, in the shadows where I can’t see him but I know he’s there. My father thinks making that deal saved his life. He doesn’t realize it destroyed mine. Vincent said he’d keep me until the last day of my life. I’m starting to think that day is coming soon.

Late one night, as I scrolled through social media, I came across a relationship influencer with over a hundred thousand followers, teaching men how to "control" their wives. "She actually tried to talk to me about privacy?" he scoffed. "I ignored her for three days, and she handed over all her passwords, crying and begging me not to leave her." The comments exploded almost instantly. The chat went wild. [Take me under your wing, man!] I felt sick to my stomach. Then, without warning, he lifted his phone and pressed a kiss to the screen. A face appeared in the reflection. Mine. Smiling, he turned back to his audience of thousands. "See this? This is the perfect wife I spent three years training." A chill ran through me. I clicked into his profile and scrolled all the way back to his first post. The upload date was the same day we got married. He claimed he was filming prank videos and that it was all just for the livestream—no wonder he got increasingly out of hand. That was when it hit me: he had been lying to me all along. From the moment I stepped into that marriage, I had been nothing more than his experiment, his content, his source of money. Fine. If that was the case, then I would turn his livestream into his worst nightmare. I picked up my phone and sat directly beneath the camera he had installed, then sent a deliberately suggestive message to another man. Three seconds later, the bedroom door burst open. Matthias stormed in and snatched my phone. After reading the message, his lips pressed into a tight line. However, he did not explode. He did not even look at me. Instead, he turned, opened his livestream, and faced the camera. "Send something through, and I'll show you exactly how to put a cheating woman in her place."

Crystal Vale learned one thing growing up: visibility was dangerous. So she disappeared—behind thick glasses, baggy clothes, and the careful art of being forgettable. No one knows she hides a secret. Beneath the plainness is a woman so stunning she could stop traffic. But she buried that woman years ago. Standing out only brought trouble. Then she saved a billionaire's grandmother, and her invisible life ended. Ethan Vale is cold, ruthless, and devastatingly handsome. He married Crystal for one reason only: his grandmother's inheritance. To him, she's a transaction. A placeholder. The invisible wife who cooks his meals, waits up at night, and loves him quietly from the shadows. He never looks at her. He never sees her. He has no idea his plain, forgettable wife is hiding the face of a goddess. For one year, she endured. For one year, she hoped. For one year, she loved him in silence, believing that maybe—just maybe—he would eventually see her. He never did. The breaking point came the night his ex walked out of his bedroom and Crystal's world shattered. That night, she finally understood the truth she'd been running from: she could love him forever, and he would never, ever see her. Turns out Crystal isn't nobody. She's Crystal Laurent. Heiress to an empire that makes the Vales look like peasants. Daughter of the most powerful family in the city. The lost girl who was stolen twenty-three years ago—and never stopped being searched for. Now Crystal has a name she never knew. A family more powerful than Ethan could ever imagine. And a decision that will shake two empires to their core. Ethan Vale threw away his invisible wife without a second glance. But Crystal Laurent? She's going to make him remember her forever. Even if it destroys them both.

**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+** + + My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his cock slamming in and out, deep and rough. I should have screamed. Instead my pussy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my clit as he fucked her right in front of me. He glanced over. “You like watching my cock stretch her?” I rubbed faster. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her. *** 69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband’s best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then fuck hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop. *** I’m on my knees. One thick cock buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my tits until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no cock has filled my pussy or ass yet. But I’m trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black cocks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier… hotter. I never knew I craved this so badly. *** No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you’re brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny… or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody’s watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

My name is Clara Kelly. I was born in Brooklyn, into an Irish-American cop’s family. My father spent his whole career walking a beat out of the 84th Precinct. My mother volunteered at the parish. I was the first girl on our block to get into Columbia Law. The year I graduated, I was volunteering at a charity gala. I picked up the wrong glass of wine and ended up dumping it down the front of a man’s Brioni suit. That man was Adrian Francesco Moretti. Fourth-generation Don of the Moretti Family of New York, and one of the five families of Cosa Nostra. He chased me for four years. I said no six times. The seventh time, he stood outside my law firm in the rain until three-fifteen in the morning. I married him. Two decades in, he’d handed me the keys to the entire Moretti Family. In our world they called me “the Irish Donna,” a woman with no Italian blood who somehow held the seat. Childless by choice, the two of us. Famously in love. Until that Wednesday afternoon, when my college roommate of twenty years, my best friend Vivian Sinclair, walked into my living room with a five-year-old boy. She said the boy was Adrian’s son. She said that five years ago, she’d taken a used condom out of the wastebasket in my upstairs master bedroom, kept it frozen for three years, and done IVF. She said she was the real mother of the Moretti heir. She was the real Donna Moretti. “Be smart. Pack your bags and walk out. You might even get to keep your life.” “You’re barren. The Moretti Family doesn’t need you.” I looked at the woman I’d called my best friend for half my adult life. I didn’t say a word. She thought she was holding the winning card. What she didn’t know was that she’d just stepped onto a board Adrian and I had been laying for twenty years. I needed exactly one sentence to shatter every piece of the Donna fantasy she’d spent five years building.