Slow Burn Fantasy Romance Novels & Stories

Time stretched, every second drawn out with deliberate, tantalizing patience, until Sienna understood that surrendering—even just a little—was the only way to survive the fire that was Damien Westwood. And as they clung to each other in the shadows, the night ahead promised passion, discovery, and the slow, inevitable burn of something neither of them could resist.

Chapter 9 Cassiel kneels between my spread legs, his cold fingers wrapping around my hips to position me just right. I can feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my untouched entrance, the threat of it making me tremble. But i feel something strange. A strange heat blooms in my chest, spreading through my veins like wildfire. My vision swims, the edges blurring not with tears but with a dizzying rush of pure, terrifying lust. My skin flushes, beads of sweat forming on my brow as my pulse starts roaring in my ears. Every nerve ending comes alive, hypersensitive and screaming for more. The pain from Evren's assault melts away, replaced by an insatiable hunger that makes no sense.

He feels it; I know he does; his eyes flicker because he’s human under the architecture. The metal is cool against my skin as he slips it onto my ring finger. The band finds its way over my knuckle and settles like an answer I’m not ready to read. He doesn’t let go when he should. He lifts my hand and kisses the ridge where bone becomes fingers—a knuckle kiss, old-fashioned and devastating. It’s slow enough to be a choice, not a habit. His breath warms my skin an instant before his mouth does. I don’t gasp. I don’t soften. I record the information: Dante knows what restraint feels like. So do I.

His hands slide up, palming my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress, his thumbs find my nipples and roll them between his fingers until they’re hard little peaks, aching for more. He tears his mouth away, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with lust. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he rasps, his voice rough, warning. But I only smirk, my fingers tracing the jagged scar that runs from his temple down to his jawline, the one that makes him look dangerous, untamed. “I know,” I whisper voice breathless. “Burn me.” A growl rumbles in his chest, and then he’s moving, pushing himself up just enough to yank at his belt, the leather hissing as it slides through the loops.

It screamed power and silent wealth. A remote lay near the edge of the bed, I picked it up and slowly crawled up to the mattress. I curled Into the soft sheets and switched on the TV. Looked like he'd been watching something before he left. Minutes passed. I kept watching, the bourbon warming my veins, making everything feel soft and hazy around the edges. Then a scene appeared on screen. A slow burn kissing scene. I watched as the man trailed his lips down the woman's skin. Clothes fell away, one piece at a time and in a blink they were both stark naked.

“A prince, maybe?” “She’d turn him to stone with that freaky stare!” the brunette added. “Honestly, what are you? A cursed peasant? A failed spell?” Sierra stared at the floor. Don’t. Don’t react. The blonde knelt, gently flicking a curl from Sierra’s cheek. Her fingers grazed the potion burn still fading from her skin. “I think,” she said softly, “you need to be reminded of your place.” Sierra whispered, “Already know it.”

It was slow, grinding rolls of his hips at first, that kept on dragging over that spot inside until I saw stars. He draped the tinsel leash over his fist, used it to pull my head up so I had to watch where we joined. “Look at that creamy pussy swallowing my cock,” he growled. “Taking every inch like it was made for it.” He sped up gradually from long, deep strokes turning into short, savage ones. The rug burned my shoulder blades, the fire warmed my side, and his cock wrecked me from the inside out. “Hmmm……Santa…..yesss….. harder..”

"What's your game, Francis? Running a test on me? Want to see if I'll stay your ride-or-die without the meds, wagging my tail for you?" Francis' face turned stormy. "Don't talk like that." "How should I talk, then?" I flung the blankets aside and shakily stood up. My legs were jelly, but I held my ground. "Should I thank you then? For a decade under your drug-fueled thumb? And now you're curious what's left when you peel that away?" He rose, a full head taller, casting a long shadow. "I'm after the real deal, Natalie, not some drug-induced fantasy."

“You didn’t let me get a single word in last time, so it's my turn…Getting closer to you, spending time with you. Learning about fuckass hockey, that i never cared about before. Watching the way you lead your team fiercely and knowing just how kind and sweet you are off the ice—those are things I would never want to go back to not experiencing and it fucking sucks—“ he chokes on a sob, eyes pooled with water but he’s been holding this all in to himself and he’s going to combust if he doesn’t just relieve this crumbling pressure off of his chest. “—it sucks that I’ve had to feel’myself fall for someone unattainable in slow motion. and there was nothing I could do to stop it, because stopping

He save her a bright smile which lifted up her spirit, she felt lighter at least she shared her dark past with someone. "Thank you" she simply said in a low sweet voice. Her eyes were shining again, like the sunrise which Taylor loved. They stared into each other's eyes and got lost in their own worlds. He put his hands around her waist slowly pulling her in, and before she knew it, his arms were around her. She felt a little helplessness and at the same time hot, it felt like the room suddenly became hot. Her beautiful face was blushing as red as a tomato and he bent towards her head and kissed her lips softly at first, and then with gradual change in intensity which made her cling to him a