Novelas y relatos de Dominic Sinclair

I didn't understand why I was still feeling this way, the drugs should have worn off by now. Here I was in a very precarious sinful position, with only our clothes serving as barriers. And all my mind kept pushing away unsuccessfully, the thoughts of how manly he is. Everything about him permeates masculinity, dominance, and virility. No! Stop thinking of his manliness!! Stop it!!! This is a sin!!!

Damian? I knew that face. It was impossible to forget what he looked like. The perfectly sculpted jawline, the sharp cheekbones, the arrogant slant of his brows. His hazel eyes stared down at me—cold, unreadable, calculating. He studied me with those eyes, eyes that make me want to squirm and hide behind a wall where they could not burn through me, but my feet had grown roots in seconds making it hard for me to move. His tousled dark hair fell over his forehead like it always did in school, just messy enough to look deliberate. He hadn’t changed. Just grown more dangerous.

Perfect. “See you soon.” He’d written it himself, fog blooming from his mouth in the cold like smoke from a sermon. She’d see it when she came home, her pretty mouth falling open in that little O of shock he used to love so much. She thought she was safe with that big bastard in her house. Cute. She thought she was strong now. Even cuter. Eden Cross had carried his sins once without even knowing it. Signed her name to accounts she’d never opened. Smiled beside him in church while his assistant—God bless Tiffany—warmed his bed after evening service.

"I don't want to marry Silvio but my father already prepared our engagement plans coming up next week. Silvio Damonte is a very powerful Mafia and would kill me if he discovered that I was pregnant. So I had to run so I wouldn't be killed by him or get punished by my father." I gritted my teeth hotly at her words as she said the words. What sort of father would sell his daughter out like a discarded property that is against his daughter's will? "Tell me, where can we find him?" Vladimir asked with his glowing eyes. His fangs were already out and I bet he felt mad the same way I was feeling.

"Astro has agreed to help me, and I'm convincing Hale next." "You want me to work with you, I assume," Sinful muses, dipping his head back to look at the night sky, the stars glittering wonderfully. "Too bad Hale hates me, and would rather rip my throat out then do what is best for this family." I shiver, despite the warm water that envelops me. I’m assuming Hale is a Sin, one who I have never heard of before. If he is even half as terrifying as Sinful and Cian, then I’m not sure I want to meet him, even if the more powerful immortals we have on our side, the better chance we have against Stace.

He was standing, his cock thrusting against a woman who was draped over the bed. He was cold. He was brutal. His hand was tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so sharply her neck looked like it might snap. She was arching her back, her fingers clawing at the bedsheet, her breasts bouncing with every heavy, violent thrust he made. It wasn't a dance of love; it was an act of dominance. I swallowed hard, a bile of disgust rising in my throat. This man wasn't a savior. He was a freak. A monster. Had he saved me just to use me like this? To add me to a collection of broken things?

Dominic didn't give her time to adjust; he started pounding into her immediately, his hips slamming against her ass with forceful slaps that echoed in the small room. I couldn't tear my eyes away. My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of fury and something darker twisting in my gut. This was my childhood love, my crush, my best friend's father fucking his mistress like she was the only woman in the world. Was I any different? I was betraying Chloe too, I want her father too. His cock stretched her wide, sliding in and out with wet, obscene sounds, her juices coating his shaft and dripping down her thighs. Aunt Lydia 's moans filled the air, high and pleading. "Harder! Don't stop, please—fuck

The First Session Cassandra entered the dimly lit room with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. She had arranged this meeting with Chad, a professional Dominant, in secret, determined to explore her deepest fantasies at last. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she saw him sitting in a high-backed chair, his tall, muscular frame outlined against the shadows. He regarded her coolly, appraisingly. "Good evening, Cassandra," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "You're punctual. I like that."

“He’s right here, controlling you. Can’t you see? Taking over without you even realizing it.” I try to defend the man who just confessed his love to me. “Anya, that’s not what it is. He’s changed.” “Changed?” she scoffs, turning her venomous gaze on Ric. “Can’t still believe you decide to manipulate someone so young. It’s easier to do it than someone your age, right? But I shouldn’t put you beneath it. How much lower can you fall than taking a life?”

It had been weeks since I'd heard it, but I hadn't forgotten the thick twang, or the way it strangely reminded me of home and safety and freedom. "Yes." I looked away from his searching gaze. "I just wanted to talk to you." Damien opened the door to his room wide open, light spilling out into the hallway. He stood in front of his closet, his back to me, giving me a perfect view of his muscular, toned back. He dabbed at his head and face with a towel, pausing for just a moment at a ridge of scars just below his hairline and at his back. He had the scars of a soldier who'd fought too many wars.