Possessive Love Novels & Stories

"What I do know is this: when you smile at me, it's the best part of my day. When you argue with me, I want to kiss you silent. When you're scared of me, it breaks something inside me. When you choose to stay despite everything, it feels like a gift I don't deserve. I don't know if that's love, April. But it's the closest I've come to it in twelve years. It's the closest I'll probably ever get." My throat is tight. "That's not nothing." "It's not love either. Love is supposed to be gentle, selfless, pure. What I feel for you is possessive, selfish, dark. I want to own you, keep you, mark you so thoroughly that no one else ever looks at you. That's not love. That's something twisted." "Maybe

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

Don't get me wrong I'm not into love but seeing her I want to possess her, seeing all those men look at her hungrily on the pole as she twerks got my blood boiling and at that moment I swore to make her mine. After that day, I concluded it had be her last day at the club. I offered the club owner a huge amount of money which he accepted. After that, we had a one-night stand, but I made sure to cum into her as many times as I wanted. I want to tie her down to myself only. I can still remember that night, the feel of her body against mine, her sweet moan, how she squeaks under me, everything about her I want to own.

Filled with a mixture of possessiveness and dark tenderness love she always evoked in me. My wife. My love. My doctor. My entire fucking universe. I would love her to the end of the time, and I would never, ever let go of her.

“I have my own thoughts, you know? But you never listen. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a lap dog you keep around—fed and sheltered but with no freedom. This is my life, Asher. I have the right to make my own decisions—” He laughed coldly, cutting me off. “You have no fucking right. Because you’re mine. Everything about you, including the right to make decisions, belongs to me. Your only job is to sit there and let me handle everything.” I stared at him, my anger flaring. “Are you kidding me? That’s not love—that’s psychotic possessiveness—” He strode over and seized my jaw tightly. “You’re right. Psychotic possessiveness. This is how I love you. Do you regret it now? But it’s too fucking la

She clutched her chest in pain and fought against the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Why is this happening to me? This stabbing sensation. Her wolf was in torture. She could hear it howling painfully within her, wishing to reach out and rip that woman from her mate. She barely understood to the purpose of this new found possessiveness. She did not love him did she? She barely knows him! So why does it hurt so much to see him in her embrace, eyes lost in the beauty of her flawless glow. And she shall be forced to watch this torture all the time henceforth. My spirit would be broken to a thousand pieces from it. Her own best friend in the embrace of her fated mate.

"Baby..." "No. Don't call me that. Ms. Rose" I said stiffening at the feel of him, he evaded my personal space, closing the littlest gap left between us, he sniffed me, "heavenly" he mumbled. I moved backwards, stumbled into the wall behind, his hands caged me between himself and the wall, "listen. And listen very carefully, my Angel, you are mine. I want you here forever. I love y----" "That's not love, that's possession, Mr. Hunter. Love is not forced upon others it is gained the same as trust. I despise you." I spat rudely.

“That’s the point, Cassie. I don’t want Rowan. I don’t want Liam. I want to know I can have them—or at least pieces of them—whenever I choose. The power. The control. That’s the fun.” Cassie exhaled sharply, almost laughing from disbelief. “You’re insane. You don’t even care about love, do you?” “Love?” I smirked. “Love is boring. Possession is better. People fall in and out of love all the time, but when you possess something —when you take it, when it’s yours—it doesn’t matter how anyone else feels. Look at this bag. Piper would probably cry if she knew Rowan bought this for me. That’s worth more than love.”

Jessica asked. "One day is enough," he replied. Jessica nodded in agreement. * * * The feeling of love is followed by a sense of wanting to have. But excessive possessiveness or forcing others to return your love, it is no longer a sense of love but an ambition. That's what happened to Cassandra. She was so excited to have Lexi, getting attention, and also getting love from the man.

“I’m not sorry. Come home soon, but be careful. I know you have Tee and Jax to back you, but I still worry.” “I know. Have Arson kiss you and the baby for me. You’re both mine,” he states and then hangs up. “Why does him sounding possessive also sound like an ‘I love you’?” Arson asks. “Because that is his ‘I love you’. He doesn’t know how to feel love, but his possession is his form of love. It’s different, but it is entirely Ransom,” I inform Arson. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” Arson murmurs then kisses me breathless. “There’s your kiss from Ran.”