Victorian Romance Novels & Stories

The driver, poor fellow, was in the care with Ana and he was too fragile to survive. Even trying to get his mind off Ana and her physical attributes didn’t help his needs. His body raged with the need to complete their pairing. Nothing with vampire courting and mating rituals was fast or simple. The words’ slow burn’ had a new meaning when a courtship started. Now, in their case, George was sure they both struggled with not entering any phase of courting or the ritual.

Penelope asked and the woman bobbed her head again. “It started a long time ago when your great-great-grandfather was in love with a werewolf girl, Liam. They were not mates, but lovers. It was a time when werewolves and Lycans lived together in peace. Their love bloomed so greatly that everybody was jealous of how beautiful their love was and they all took them as their role models. They wanted to get married and live happily together but everything changed when the werewolf girl found her mate, as destined by the Moon Goddess."

How I met him was quite a meet-cute, never have I been in a relationship this passionate. He was everything and supported me, he gave me all I ever asked for. Since I first met him at the club, where I turned from a waitress to a striper, he had always hovered around me. He made me felt special, I could see his love for me in his eyes. We never had any problems, just small irrelevant arguments. I have been dreaming about the day he would propose to me, to be sincere, I have never been this patient in my life.

“I haven’t even met him.” “Exactly!” she shouted. “That’s worse! Falling for someone you’ve never seen is peak disaster energy.” “I’m not falling for anyone.” “Good.” She pointed at me again. “Because emotional damage is expensive. And I know you. You fall for men with mystery, danger, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab you.” “I do not!” “You SO do.” Mira narrowed her eyes. “And this man sounds like he invented cheekbones.” I let out a breath and slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Damien not glued to your side today? Odd. He tends to keep his… projects close.” Serena’s brows drew together. “What exactly are you implying?” “Oh, come now.” Camille stepped closer, her perfume cloying, her smile widening. “You don’t honestly think you’re the first, do you? Damien has a pattern. Swoops in, plays the saviour, dresses his women up like trophies, parades them around… and when he’s bored, he doesn’t just walk away. He breaks them. Quietly. Completely.” Serena’s jaw tightened, though her voice stayed steady. “Thanks for the unsolicited TED Talk on Damien Drake, but I’ll pass.”

I am as exciting and predictable as a loaf of sliced white bread. Anyway, back to my story. The traffic started moving, and off he went, leaving behind the lingering scent of tobacco. At work, I had trouble concentrating, and spent most of the day creating racy vignettes in my head with us as the feature characters. Let's be honest; I have a very vivid imagination. The closest I've been to a hot steamy encounter is courtesy of the pages of my endless supply of paperback romance novels. I'm not the kind of girl that attracts hot, sexy men. In fact, I've been called an ice queen by more than one guy. But when I'm in the middle of one of my books, I am sensual, daring, sarcastically humorous, a

Back then, he had used this trick to win over her heart too. Looking back, she finally realized how stupid she was before. A man’s promise was only a lie. All the romantic gestures were traps to bedazzle the woman’s heart. The corners of her lips twitched into a sardonic smile as she held the bouquet of flowers. Matthew thought success was near upon seeing her smile. Immediately, he did as he had rehearsed before and led her toward the hall that was covered with fresh flowers. He readjusted his emotions, knelt one knee, and held her hands. “Christina, I like you. Be my girlfriend.”

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.

“It sounds… like it should be yours, only yours. ‘Mon amour.’ My love.” I blushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You know I don’t speak French.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then I will teach you… one kiss at a time.” I laughed, a trembling, delicate sound. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so close I could feel the strength of his desire, the depth of his longing that he had never released. His fingers drifted over my skin, tracing patterns I had never known I knew. Every caress was a poem. Every caress was a confession.

It was the Norm of this palace to always keep knew clothes in the guest room Incase someone comes with little clothes. I took the clothes out and got dressed then took one the shirts and dressed my mate. Once that was done, I climbed into bed with her, spooning her. I missed the feel of her body in mine and I'm so glad I got to experience this all over again. She was fully and officially mine and no one was going to stand in the way of our love. No one was going to hinder our romance. "I love you Victoria, I said kissing her forehead and snuggling into her.