Todos los capítulos de Teach me to sin II (Sins of the past): Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

The engine purred low and content beneath my hands; the world outside Tristan Walker’s house stayed buried in suburbia’s false calm. I parked in the shadow of an oak where the streetlight sputtered, the car’s black skin eating the reflected lamp glow. It was a good place to wait—out of sight, a choke point for anyone leaving the property, a place that demanded nothing of me but patience. Patience was a muscle I’d trained for years. I’d been watching the house for hours, through fogged breath and the slow drift of evening, cataloguing patterns: the light in Tristan’s study that burned too late, the way the back door opened before sunrise, who came and who left. Tonight, I’d hoped to catch a mistake, an unguarded moment. Tonight, I wanted the girl. I stubbed my cigarette against the tyre and watched the dark window like a man watching a wound. She’d left school with something like determination; the image of her in the hall—hair swept back, shoulders squared—had lodged in my head

The house looked like something out of a movie—massive, glowing from every window, music bleeding into the night like a pulse. Cars lined the street, sleek metal beasts glittering under the moonlight. The air smelled like perfume, alcohol, and a kind of danger I did not like at all. It was all consuming in a way that I had never seen coming. This house was the biggest I had ever seen in real life and I was about to step inside. It was crazy how some months ago I never would have seen this coming. I parked Alex’s car a little down the street, trying not to think about what would happen if Tristan found out. My fingers trembled as I adjusted my lipstick in the rearview mirror. For a moment, I almost turned the key back and drove home. But then I remembered Aisha’s words about social suicide. Well that and the thought of Kiara Blane’s calm, terrifying smile kept me moving. Inside, the bass hit like thunder. Students filled the place—Heldon’s elite in designer clothes, lau

The night air was thick—heavy with perfume, smoke, and the faint echo of bass spilling from the Blane estate. I could feel the music before I reached the front door. It pulsed through the ground, through my shoes, through my veins, until I was sure it was mocking me. Every instinct screamed for restraint. For logic. But I had already crossed that line the moment I got into the car. Eloise had snuck out. Alex had helped her. And the only thing louder than my anger was the fear clawing at my chest. I parked a few houses down and walked the rest of the way, trying to blend into the flow of teenagers and young adults wandering toward the massive mansion. Security barely glanced at me; I looked like any other irritated father or older brother dragged into this world of glitter and noise. Inside, the scene hit me like static—lights flashing, champagne spilling, people pressed too close. Every sense screamed danger. I scanned the crowd. No Eloise. Not yet. Then I caught her re

Four days. That’s how long it’s been since Alex left. Four days since the shouting match that ripped through the house like a storm. Since Eloise slammed her door shut and refused to speak to me. Since the silence settled — heavy, oppressive, and cruel — like a punishment I couldn’t escape. The house didn’t feel like a home anymore. It felt like a graveyard of noise, full of echoes and ghosts. Marilyn tried to hold it together, pretending things were normal. But even she couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes whenever she looked at me. And Eloise… She hadn’t been to school since the party. Every morning, she stayed in her room with the curtains drawn, her phone clutched in her hand, headphones buried in her ears. Every time I knocked, she either ignored me or muttered something that made me feel smaller than I ever had. I didn’t blame her. I’d scared her. I’d scared everyone. But what tore me apart more than anything was Alex’s absence. He wasn’t ju

Both of our lips met — soft at first, tentative, like we were both afraid the other would pull away. Then it deepened. Days of longing, anger, love, fear — all of it poured into that kiss. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer. Mine tangled in his damp hair. I could taste the rain on his lips, the salt of his tears, the quiet desperation of a man who’d been holding himself together for too long. When we finally broke apart, breathless, our foreheads rested together. “I shouldn’t have left,” I whispered. “And I shouldn’t have driven you away,” he replied, his voice trembling. “Let me fix it, Alex. Let me fix us.” I nodded, just slightly, unable to form words. My heart was beating so fast I could barely think. He kissed me again — slower this time, deeper. The world slowed as he kissed my neck and I moaned into the air.Our hands worked quickly, ripping each other’s clothes.Tristan pulled his dick out of his jeans, and it was a massive. He was had always been big, it was