Jealous Possessive Romance Books Novels & Stories

It sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the sensation, his hands tangling in my hair as if to remind me who was in control here. When he finally pulled back, leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows and met his dark gaze. “I probably should be insulted, you know,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Once, I was the most worshiped golden girl. Now, I’m just an Alpha’s lover.” Lucian’s expression flickered, something unreadable passing across his face. Was that guilt? Pity? No, it was something else—something darker, more calculating.

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he interrupted. “Stop following me Jax,” I commanded establishing my authority changing the conversation because at the end of the day he was just a massive fan of mine. “No, I want recommendations on books, preferably the slow burns with two people trying to fight their connection when they were soulmates from the moment they met but they were blind.” I know what he was doing. He was trying to describe our romance but ours was a tragedy, not a romance in my books anyway. I huffed annoyed and played his game, by saying “I would recommend Birthday Girl by Penelo-“

he said simply. I pulled back, pouting. "And why not?" He smirked, his eyes darkening with something possessive. "Because if I had, you would’ve been surrounded by my employees every day. I didn’t want that. What’s mine stays mine." His voice was low, filled with an intensity that made my heart race. I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "You’re such a jealous man, Anton." He smirked. "And you love it."

Possessive, jealous, and a bit obsessive—how was it possible that such dark traits could actually seem attractive? I rested my hand on his chest and leaned on my toes. He lowered his head, helping me meet his lips. The kiss was hot, his tongue sliding into my mouth as if savoring me, and I welcomed it eagerly. The taste of him made my body heat up. His hand slid down to my ass, squeezing it possessively. I pulled back before things could get too heated. The low growl of displeasure he let out was almost animalistic, and it sent a thrill through me. I loved that I could make him lose control like this.

I needed to cut her off. "Look, they're doing the walking around the fire thing." She said. I hummed non committal. "I read about it in this book by Drethi Anis. Five thousand nights of obsession. The book was so good." "You read?" I asked. I had never seen any book in her apartment or caught her with a book. "Yes." She blushed, then quietly. "Romance books." "You don't strike me as the romance type." I looked at her intently. "Is it one of those raunchy books with shirtless men carrying scabbards on the cover."

“It’s good to know I have no competitor because I hate sharing what belongs to me. Rightfully” I know how possessive I sound now, but I can’t care less. My mate just informed me I’m all alone in the race to win her heart, body, and soul. I lick my lips, my vision getting filled with an intense cloud of lust that rakes my entire body. Fuck! ‘I guess…’ Oh, baby sugar. You’re mine to own, dominate, and feast on to my utmost pleasure. The innate desire for this daring woman has a thrilling shiver race down to my groin and I press my thighs together, loving every feel of it.

I don’t share. I felt my hands curl into fists as my teeth almost ground themselves to dust with the wave of possessiveness cursing through me. Three weeks away was supposed to set my head straight and let me think clearly. I fucked over a dozen women in my time away in a failed attempt to erase the warm feeling of her mouth plaguing me. I found myself comparing her to all of them and every feeling falling below par. I’ll be damned if I let curiosity get the best of me to find out of she tastes just as she looks or if her pussy was as warm as her tongue.

That hurts her. I see it. Immediately. But I don’t stop. “Because none of that changes one thing.” Her voice trembles. “What?” I step closer. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerously calm. “You’re mine to protect.” Silence. Heavy. Loaded. Not possession. Not control. Something else. Something deeper. Something that doesn’t let go. Her eyes widen slightly. Not fear. Not rejection. Recognition. “You don’t get to say that like it’s simple,” she whispers.

I leaned in and kissed him—not the gentle, hesitant kisses we’d shared lately, but a kiss that was desperate, hungry, and full of all the truths I couldn't say out loud. ​For a heartbeat, he resisted, his body stiff with the remnants of his anger. Then, with a low growl that vibrated against my lips, he broke. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me so close I could feel the heat of him through the fabric. ​He lifted me onto the bed, his touch possessive and urgent, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of me before I walked out of his life. In the dark of the room, as the city lights blurred outside, I gave him everything. Every touch was an "I'm sorry," and every breath was an "I