Devils Temptation Novels & Stories

"Hmm, yes, no matter who he is, he can't actually be a devil, right? Tanya asked back as she didn't know why Lydia was acting that way about the devil. "The devil, a man who came from the deepest part of hell, a man whose face as beautiful as that of adonis, his body cannot be more perfect, his voice as deep and enticing as an angels voice, but personality like the devil. His smile can freeze one's heart and may even cause the person to die. It is rumoured that those who had seen that sinister smile either had fallen into a tragic trauma or better still died tragically. The devil is no other than Alexander quinn.

He believed there is no such Angel for Devil There's no such LOVE where Devil is smitten He turned into Devil was not in search of an Angel Never in his life he thought he would found it one Not definitely in his world where only Devil's reside Not definitely under moon where breeze blew kisses Baby I Wanna tell you a story Sorry if I bore you with mine It's a story of a Devil and his Angel She's everything which he's not He's sin where she's boon Ho baby tell me what was his fault He was child with castles of dreams, a happy go child who wanted a life which he could call it Peace Ho baby tell me what was his fault the world made him Devil He stayed far watching her smile, She was his word,

“Give me everything, little moon. Ruin me.” She laughed—low, filthy, triumphant—and rolled her hips in a slow, grinding circle that dragged my swollen knot against her rim from the inside. The sensation was pure torture; pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. The Devil Alpha—three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old firstborn of Lucifer himself—was getting thoroughly, shamelessly fucked by his Luna.

It's not fair, that this man has come into my life, disguised as an angel, when in reality he was Lucifer himself. I remember a song, by one of my favorite singers, that says: he's handsome as hell. Because I guess sin and temptation, have their appeal, and sometimes it's hard to say no. But sin and temptation always have their appeal. But sin and temptation will always have the same ending, guilt, and regret that makes you ache to your very soul.

He hears it, oh, he hears it, because the chuckle that escapes him is low and rich and cruelly amused. “Stop fighting what you want, baby girl,” he whispers. “Just come to bed with me.” Yes. The devil himself. Who else could tempt a sane woman, a woman desperate to do right, and drag her down into sin with nothing more than words? His voice isn’t merely temptation. It is temptation incarnate. I manage to force words past the chaos trembling on my tongue. “Please… I can’t… I can’t do this. My sister—she’s going to be back in a few minutes and I—”

Your sexy bastard, Devil I knew that I was looking at the catastrophe that has hit my life.

His face didn’t hold any emotion like sadness or whatnot, but from his eyes, I could read it all. My lips parted at the realization. Was he really apologizing to me? Alejandro? The man whose authority could move mountains at will? The man they call IL DIAVOLO? ~The devil Was I dreaming? Yeah, maybe. That definitely had to be it. Never in a million years would Alejandro ever admit that he was wrong. No. I moved back a little to be sure I heard him correctly. “What?” I asked, and as if that snapped him back to reality, he frowned.

Her eyes burned, squeezed shut tighter against the sting. “This isn’t devotion. It’s temptation.” “Yes,” he replied. “Temptation is devotion before it learns its name.” The hand lingered, then slid further, deliberate, parting the fabric of her gown. It teased the sensitive skin there before dipping lower. Elizabeth trembled, caught in the web of his control, her body arching slightly despite herself. He didn't rush. The pressure reformed, now a firm stroke against her clit from behind, his fingers circling the swollen nub with slow, teasing circles that sent electric sparks through her core.

fucking my fist to visions of her on her knees, begging for my absolution in ways the Bible never intended. By the fourth week, the temptation festered like an open wound. The city outside buzzed with summer heat, the air thick and oppressive, mirroring the storm building inside me. I prepared for her arrival with dread and anticipation, my sermons that Sunday laced with unintended fervor about the snares of lust. 'The devil prowls like a lion,' I thundered from the pulpit, but my flock saw only piety. They didn't know the lion was clawing at my own soul.

He wouldn't dare tell Devon. Derrick ignored me as he continued blabbing on. " She hated you! Wanted to kill you! Do you what she always called you, a devil! You were the devil, Devon! " “That’s a lie!” Devon snapped. “Oh?” Derrick taunted. “Because I remember holding her while she cried about how much she hated you. Devil Devon! " “That is not true!” I shouted, my voice breaking. Derrick laughed. “Isn’t it? Then why did you try to forget your sorrows by sucking my dick?! "