Author Sinclair Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

he inhaled my scent. I wanted to tell him to stop but the booze made my pussy clench at his words. Suddenly, my throat felt dry. Then, his hands spun me around fast, pinning me against the railing. Those dark eyes locked on mine, hungry and unapologetic. Up close, he smelled like whiskey and trouble, his broad chest straining his shirt. “You shouldn’t be seeing me all the time,” I hissed, glancing at the shadows of the house behind us. “People will suspect. Simon’s barely gone, and—”

My phone vibrates next to me, and I grab it; a smile appearing on my face at the sight of Sinclair's name across the screen. SINCLAIR : What are you doing? We exchanged numbers earlier, and I can't explain the excitement of seeing the bold letters of his name on my screen. I bite down on my lips, and lay on my side as I type back a reply. ME : About sleeping. You? The reply is within seconds, and I can't help my excitement. SINCLAIR: Laying in bed, and thinking of the face you made when I had my tongue on your wet pussy.

Aprils pov .............. A graveyard. I quickly turn to the next page and its as if the photographer had zoomed in on two particular grave stones. They read: Matthew Sinclair born on 20th April 1970 , died in 2000 . The date not certain. He was a leader, a brother ,a loving husband and a caring father. The other grave stone is bare except for the name Eve Sinclair. My tears are flowing like the River Nile and I can't stop them.

"Give me the name, Randolph." Belishaw struggled to stay silent, but it was like trying to catch grains of sand. Sinclair sighed and lifted the scalpel. This time he didn't move out of anger. He flicked his wrist and sliced Belishaw's other cheek. A cry escaped his lips, but he did not let the name out. Sinclair set his weapon down. "I wonder if I need to bring additional motivation for you? Perhaps the human woman you've been seeing. Jodie Harkness? Would she loosen your tongue if I had her to play with?"

She decided to go to the kitchen and fetch some. She was heading towards the kitchen when she saw Sin going in the direction of Trixie's Suite. He wore only his underpants. "Sinclair!" Kimberly pulled him. He batted his lids at her. "Sin. It's Sin." he groaned. "Do you enjoy walking half-naked?" She scowled. "My biggest hobby right there!" he smiled sillily, pointing at his bulging penis. "Sinclair!" Trixie came over. His smile grew bigger. "Hey, baby sissy!"

“You can't tell mum and dad Jameson. Please." “And why shouldn't i?” He narrowed his eyes at me. Unlike Nelson, Jameson was much better at hiding his desires. “You're a fucking pornstar, Kat. You always act like a saint but behind the mask, you're out there whoring your holes on camera and now you want me to keep your dirty little secret?" I closed the distance between us, trailing my fingers down his chest, then I cupped the hard bulge in his pants. “If you keep this secret,” I whispered hotly against his ear, pressing my body against him. “this pussy can belong to you too. Both of you. Whenever you want it… however you want it.”

Tonight, it was the latter. I drifted into the study. The room was dark, lit only by a single, low-hanging desk lamp that cast long, distorted shadows. Liam was slumped in the large leather chair, his tie loose and crooked, his shirt wrinkled. The amber liquid in the bottle on the desk was half gone. The air was thick with the sweet, heavy smell of expensive bourbon and the sour tang of cheap despair. This was a different kind of opportunity. Elara was weak to fear. Liam, I sensed, was weak to guilt. And guilt, fed by alcohol, was a dangerous, beautiful thing.

“My, my, my. Who do we have here?” “Hello, ma'am. My name's Lucas Sinclair. Pleasure to meet you.” “Sinclair, you say? You do look familiar…. Oh!” She snaps her fingers as she remembers. “I saw you on TV the other day. You're THE Lucas Sinclair, of Sinclair Industries.”

It seemed to be Sinclair's bedroom. I surveyed the room. There was a family photo on the buffet. Sinclair was pictured with his family when Tristan was alive. My eyes were drawn to their dark brown hair. Only Paige had slightly lighter hair. Was the little boy blonde like his mother? Sinclair was secretive about his personal life, but the media couldn't have been unaware if he was married. Could he not have married the child's mother? Why hadn't the media ever reported on his child? I checked the bathroom and the walk-in closet. The latter caught my attention. Sinclair only had black clothes. Even his watch was black. He only had a few white shirts. What made him obsessed with that color?

Heck yeah. I step inside, my senses immediately filled by the familiar scent of Lily's home—a blend of warm cookies and soul soothing fragrant flowers. But today, something is different. The air seems charged with a serious amount of tension, an invisible barrier that separates the familiar from the forbidden. As I make my way through the long corridor leading to the large sitting room of the house, the sound of hushed silent voices reach my ears. My steps slowed and uncertainty eats away at my insides. Should I retreat, disappear back into my comforting realm of relief? Or should I allow myself this one moment and risk the fragile balance that holds my sanity together? I am afraid if I s