Lester Sinclair Novels & Stories

“Everyone, this is Justin Reyes, she just transferred here. I expect everyone to be welcoming and nice to her. Kingsley, stay away from her.” “Oh come on Mrs Smith, you know I can’t keep my hands away from a fine creature.” Kingsley got one month of detention since he won’t stop talking about Justin and how he wants to fuck her and make her feel good. You wouldn’t blame him, she’s so beautiful and heavenly endowed. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I don’t like it. I don’t like how Justin is making me feel. I’m not the type to give out compliments, but this girl, she’s gorgeous.

I called them the Sinister Six. Jason Stokes was the leader. Tall, good-looking, green eyes, messy black hair. He treated everyone like trash unless you were attractive enough to matter. He had a scar on his shoulder from a party fight—at least that was the story. The story changed every time, so maybe he just cut himself making a sandwich. Either way, intelligence wasn’t his strength.

I sat there with my hands on the keyboard and my tea going cold and something very calm and very wrong settling over me. They were telling me I had just been inseminated with a stranger's sample. I read it a third time to make sure I hadn't misunderstood. I hadn't. I typed the name from the legal notice into the search bar with fingers that were not entirely steady. Cael Sinclair. The results loaded instantly. Pages of them. Sinclair Industries. Billionaire. Portland-based. Thirty-four years old. Private, notoriously private, barely a personal photograph anywhere, mostly press shots from corporate events where he stood at the edge of the frame like he'd agreed to be photographed the way oth

he sighed, "You know what? Keep it up, I've been trying my best to stay away from you and you're starting to make it easier." It's been a few hours and he still hadn't come out of the basement, I want to go check on him but I'm pretty sure he won't open the door for me. Just then, my phone notification went off. I picked it up and turned it on, it was a message from a number that I didn't know. unknown: wanna hang out? Me: who's this? unknown: Celeste. How did she get my number? Honestly I'm not even that surprised. I immediately saved her number.

But he must have been an important figure due to how Julie was taking it as a big deal because she glared at me. “I know you are oblivious and all. But how can you not know Sinclair Stone is your husband? The Sinclair Stone of Sin Inc.” “What?!” “Yes, your husband is the CEO of Sin Inc. The place you would go for an interview tomorrow.” Sinclair Stone was my husband and the interviewer on my report! I didn't know. But I wasn't to be blamed. Or maybe I was. If I had tried asking my parents about the man they had sold me off to, it would have prepared me to know I was wedding my, maybe future, boss.

"I am Alpha Ezekiel, this is the Bloodhound pack. And you are a rouge in my house, surrounded by my warriors, and my pack of 1500 men. You're not the one with the power here, I am. So when I ask a question I except it answered. Now. Who. Are. You?" I clenched my jaw in frustration, he was right. I had no power. No choice. He could do anything to me right now. And I wouldn't have any help or any way to stop him. I nearly reached at the thought. I was fucked. Royally. With that in mind I responded to his question; "Cecil." "And where did you came from? Are there any more like you?" He fired the questions in quick succession. "The East Coast, I travel alone and have not come across another fema

He smiles and then proceeds to l**k his arm with mine “Hey, Mr. Stefunny, get off! Let go of me! don't be insolent.” “If you really had paid attention, you would have realized that it is time for us to move forward and take our place on the improvised altar. My name is Stefano, not Stefunny” he says with a hint of irritation. “That's what I said, Mr. Stefunny”. He lets out a hiss, and I suppress the urge to laugh. ***

To the Big DILF’s cabin? I laugh so loud I snort, fingers flying. Me: His name is Nick. And yes. Daddy’s orders. Sabrina: He’s gonna ruin you. On a bearskin rug. In front of a fireplace. While holding a whiskey. Me: You’ve been real quiet since you realized you’d be into it too. Sabrina: Bitch, I encourage it. Climb that man like a jungle gym. Leave your earrings on the mantel like a power move. Me:

He continues, gesturing to my midsection. Sinclair continues to vent, getting louder and louder with every word. “I hate everything that led us to this place. I hate having to sit by and do nothing, because war takes time. I’m thinking I should have stayed and fought, even if there was no chance of winning. I’m thinking I’m a traitor for abandoning my people.” He pauses, looking so feral I honestly feel a little afraid. “And I’m thinking that if Damon were in front of me now I would rip off his manhood, then rip off his fingers and toes one at a time. And I’d keep going that way until he was just a headless torso, but I’d keep him alive for as long as possible to maximize his suffering.”

so bloody unimaginable. Mr. Daniel Mitchell, the stunning figure who commands the attention of everyone in town, including poor little fragile hearted me, is the source of my desires. With his salt-and-pepper curly red hair and piercing blue eyes, he possesses an air of wisdom and attraction that grabs my poor weak emotional heart. He is Lily's father, a pillar of the community and a respected businessman, and my affection for him is as you should know by now, a forbidden flame threatening to swallow me whole deep down within the depth of my soul.