Short Dark Romance Books Novels & Stories

She looked up at me through lowered lashes, her expression unreadable. “You said you aren’t here for sex.” “I meant every word.” “Good.” She took another step forward, close enough that I could feel her breath against my jaw. Her hand rested against my chest, right above my heart, and it thundered beneath her palm. “You know what your problem is, Damien?” I shook my head weakly after she asked. “You’ve always mistaken desire for love.” Her fingers curled around my shirt, pulling me closer and bridging every gap between us.

Warning: Explicit sexual content, group sex, extremely rough sex, BDSM elements, consensual intense experience. 18+ only. All characters are adults. "OH GOD! OH FUCK! DAMIEN!" Serah's scream echoed through the penthouse suite, raw and primal, as Damien's massive cock hit a spot inside her that shouldn't exist.....a depth that defied anatomy, a place that made her see actual stars bursting behind her clenched eyelids.

“…Catherine and Heathcliff are bound by something darker than love, something that—” His middle finger pressed directly on her clit, rubbing in tight, slow circles. She whimpered. “Keep. Reading.” She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. Forced the words out between shallow pants. “…something that refuses to die even when the body does…” He slid one finger inside her—slow, deep—curling just right against that spot that made her knees buckle. Then a second finger. Stretching her. Filling her. His thumb kept working her clit in the same merciless rhythm.

The walk to the bookshop felt endless and too short at the same time. Sloane’s body was still buzzing from that kiss at the restaurant, her lips tingling, her thighs sticky with how wet she’d gotten just from his hand on her leg under the table. Callum walked close beside her, their arms brushing every few steps. Every touch made her stomach flip harder. What the hell am I doing? Following a man I met three hours ago to his closed shop? I should go home. I should—

And for the first time in thirty-eight years, I Blackwood fell asleep with a smile on his face. ————————— A knock came exactly at 8:30 AM. It was Brock. He was trying to mindlink me. But I didn’t want to right now. I opened my eyes and the ceiling stared back at me. But I wasn't looking at the ceiling. I was looking at the woman in my arms. Rhiannon was curled against me. Her back to my chest. My arm around her waist. Her hand on my forearm. Her breath slow and even against my skin. She was still wearing nothing but my shirt.

“Why is it so dark? Please, turn on the lights, Anth.” I hesitated before pressing the soft buttons of the light switch and then the room brightened up. I heard her gasp first before my eyes took in the rose petals and unlit candles on the floor and on various pieces of furniture in the living room. My eyes scanned the room and spotted more rose petals, even the ones leading to the bedroom. The romantic setting of the place made my nervousness spike higher than before. “Did you do this?” I pushed every ounce of nervousness from my body and approached her then wrapped my arms around her shoulder. I placed my face against hers then kissed her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin and inhalin

Her brother, thankfully, was out with friends—some last-minute poker night. Good. She padded into the living room, heading straight for the bookshelf Adrian always hovered around. His collection was huge, but it was the bottom shelf she wanted—dark red spines, old bindings. Erotica, classic and poetic. She’d seen the way his eyes lingered on those books when he thought no one was watching. Her fingers brushed one of the worn covers: Venus in Furs. She smirked. Just as she was settling onto the couch with it—tucked into the far corner, legs curled beneath her—she heard a door open.

(Lucas’ Pov– A Few Days Ago) The dim glow of the fireplace cast flickering shadows across the walls, illuminating the room in a soft, eerie light. Outside, the waves crashed against the rocky cliffs of the island, their relentless rhythm matching the simmering rage that had lived inside me for years. I leaned back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as Rico sat across from me, his fingers tapping against the polished wooden table. His dark eyes studied me with a mix of curiosity and unease.

(3 Weeks Before) Ashley "Are you sure your man is okay with this?" Diamond murmurs against my skin, her lips brushing my throat as our bodies grind in rhythm under the strobe lights. Her hands roam, bold and warm, as the bass pulses through the floor—and through me. The air inside the club smells like smoke, sex, and alcohol. And the lights scatter across our skin like glitter-drenched sin. I tilt my head just enough to catch sight of Gray in the corner booth.

Shame crashed over me in waves, but it couldn’t drown the sudden, aching throb. He was standing so close I could see the dark lashes framing those burning silver eyes, the way his broad chest rose and fell calmly while mine came fast and shallow. Gods help me. This was wrong. So very wrong. And yet, I leaned ever so slightly toward him before I caught myself. But as I turned to leave, to escape his ever-too-hot presence and the dangerous words still echoing in my ears, Soren’s hand shot out.