Russian Romance Novels & Stories

I would never have guessed on my own. “Yes,” he says, smirking. “I’m Russian, Tsvetochka.” I freeze, blinking. What did he just call me? Before I can ask him what it means, the door of my bedroom slams open, revealing my fiancé. “Bella.” Roberto’s thick Italian accent makes me want to run away and never look back—his looks aren’t helping either. He barely has any hair left on his head. “What are you doing here with him, amore?” His eyes widen when they fall to the ground. “Dios mio. What happened here?”

On the other end of the line, silence stretched—thick, confused, offended. “That’s your response?” the Russian asked. “Yes.” “You’re lying.” Zayden smiled faintly. “No. I’m finished with this conversation.” “You’d throw him away that easily?” “He was never yours to bargain with,” Zayden said. “And he’s certainly not worth your life expectancy.” The Russian laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you’re untouchable.” “I know I am.” Zayden ended the call. He set the phone down on the desk with deliberate calm and turned back to Slate.

My blood goes cold. KNOX YO he replied just to shut that down Romy I think you're onto something I type back: I'm leaving the groupchat because I hate you all. KNOX Nah you love us really. But more importantly ROMY YOU'RE DEFINITELY ONTO SOMETHING DMITRI We have a saying in Russian. Very beautiful. It translates to "if you throw a woman's Dunkin coffee at a fan, it is only polite to buy her a new iced coffee or a beverage of approximate equivalent value"

Instead of a country where everyone was supposed to live in harmony under Emperor Nikolai’s rule, the whole nation was plunged into violence by Eduard. Roseanne cannot help but glance at Dmitri who was smiling at the people. There is something familiar about him which is unsettling to her. The way he is smiling only reminds her of Alexei. Why? “You are staring at me, dear,” he muses. “Are you falling in love with me already?” “I would prefer it if you do not speak to me in that coquettish manner!” She says, feeling embarrassed and indignant. Dmitri smirks, flashing his dazzling teeth. He is quite amused by his mate. Her feisty nature is seductive and the challenge of making her fall for him

A luxurious perfume with notes of rose and musk enveloped me as she patted my back. “Oh, you’re much more beautiful than Pascha described! I’ve been so eager to meet you!” she exclaimed in a thick, but charming Russian accent. I froze for a moment before managing to return her warm embrace, completely taken aback. All the preconceived notions I had of cold stares and judgmental looks shattered in an instant. “Thank you, Mrs. Romanova,” I replied nervously, but she shook her head emphatically. “Oh no, call me Natalia. And you can call him Alexandr too,” she insisted, nodding towards her husband, who was now approaching.

His hands explore my chest, muttering a bunch of things in Russian. “It’s so hot when you moan in Russia.” I tell him, He chuckles, face quickly contorting to one of pleasure, “I said I love being inside you.” It’s hot in English too. He watches me explode, I hide my face behind my hands, he pries them off. “I want to see your face while I fuck you.” And he does, while staring into my eyes, muttering praises to me in Russian, he pounds into me, and I come again.

I’m not particularly a romantic man but Akim advised me that if I want to lure the girl to me, I need to go the most romantic way possible. While we were having the conversation at our new hideout, a one-story building we rented at Newfield, Leonid contributed. He agreed to Akim’s words and said that most American girls love Romance, unlike Russian girls who want to be taken however brutal it can be. But I doubt Dawn is an American. She is a Slavic girl. A Russian by birth. Though, I’m yet to figure that out. However, I had a rethink that night because of the rage that slipped from Dawn’s eyes when she walked away. The words she spat that were spiced with hatred showed there was every possib

"I like rough, and you're my ideal type." With a seductive look, the sensual Russian trapped the Italian's lips in a kiss, which he did not hesitate to reciprocate as soon as their lips met. It was a passionate kiss, mixing their saliva and intertwining their tongues in a struggle to get the greatest satisfaction in each touch, in each caress, and in each sigh.

it felt so new to you since it's Genesis the man I love and I never had sex with him. you looked into his eyes. you were turned on by his face; the raised eyebrow, the seductive eyes, the little smirk plastered on his face. oh goodness. I thought that I already moved on but I was wrong. All this time I'm still in love with him. you didn't realize that he loosened your red lace brassiere. your breath hitched, he was that damn fast. you let your straps fall to your shoulder as he slowly removes the cloth from your chest.