Writing my First Dark Romance 😈😈
Little sample::
The cuffs settled into place, leather firm against Grace’s wrists, the St. Andrew’s cross holding her in an open, unguarded posture. The Dom guiding the demonstration spoke calmly, professionally, explaining pressure points, balance, how the position invited both vulnerability and strength.
“Notice how it encourages stillness,” he said, adjusting the strap at her ankle.
His hand slipped just low enough that his knuckles brushed her thigh.
Light. Brief. Questionable.
The sound that followed was pure warning.
Alex’s growl rolled through the room, deep and unmistakably pleased with its own menace. “You’re done,” he snapped, already moving forward. “Take your hands off what’s mine.”
Grace tilted her head, lips curving. “Alex,” she said mildly. “I asked for a demonstration.”
His gaze cut to her, slow and dangerous. “Then you’ll remember your manners,” he said, voice low, amused in a way that promised trouble. “Call me sir.”
The other Dom laughed, unimpressed. “She’s not collared. No marks. Nothing that says she belongs to you.”
Alex smiled.
It wasn’t a nice smile.
He stepped in close, crowding Grace’s space until all she could feel was him. His fingers slid under her chin, tilting her face up with infuriating gentleness. “You really want proof?” he asked softly.
Then he leaned in.
When he pulled back, the mark at her neck was dark and undeniable, his claim written in plain sight.
Alex straightened, eyes never leaving the other man. “There,” he said pleasantly. “Now she’s busy.”
“I’ll take care of her now.”
The Dom muttered something under his breath and retreated, the room suddenly feeling much smaller.
Alex waited until they were alone before unlocking the cuffs himself. Slow. Deliberate. He let the last one click free and didn’t step back right away.
Instead, he leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur thick with amusement. “You know,” he said, “watching you stand there so patiently while someone else explains how helpless you are might be my new favorite thing.”
Grace opened her mouth.
He tapped her chin. “Careful.”
A beat passed. Then he chuckled, thumb brushing the edge of the mark at her neck. “Look at you,” he teased. “All tied up. All curious. Completely at my mercy.”
His tone shifted, playful edge sharpening into certainty.
“And just so we’re clear,” he added quietly, “you don’t let another man touch you.”
His eyes locked on hers.
“Ever.”
Then he smiled again, softer this time. “Now,” he murmured, “tell me how the cross felt.”
