Sin And Chocolate Mga Nobela at Kwento

It was like a silent connection, an invisible thread pulling me toward him. He was tall, easily over six feet, and his frame was solid, built with the kind of strength that didn’t scream for attention but demanded it anyway. The fitted black Tom Ford suit he wore was immaculate, tailored to perfection. It clung to his broad shoulders, outlining the strength in his chest and arms. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his jawline was sharp, like it has been carved from stone. There was something about him that screamed power, like he belonged in a place far more exclusive than The Ember, a high-end club that catered to people like me, but never someone like him.

he mouths, voice rough, thumbing his slit until more cum oozes out, glistening in the dim light. Father Khatri has tried to keep away from Matthew since that night in the basement, three days ago, when he’d fucked the boy into oblivion and fled like a coward. He’d even shut the church doors, claiming illness to the flock, but the truth was uglier. He felt impure, rotten and his stomach churning with guilt every time he knelt to pray. for three days, he fasted, lips cracked and dry, whispering pleas to God for forgiveness, for strength. but the prayers didn’t work. all he saw behind his closed eyes was Matthew–those wide blue eyes glassy with need, his full red lips trembling as he begged and

I’m the fucking devil. I squat in front of the man chained to the roof of the basement in the Gambino mansion. His trembling arms are attached to the hook on the low ceiling by a thick metal clasp. He hangs there helplessly, leaving the rest of his body exposed to me to do with as I please. My gaze rakes over the sweat and blood clinging to his pale skin. Bruises and gashes paint his body like the finest piece of artwork, thanks to my fists.

ERICA The music thumped through the walls of the private lounge, muffled but persistent, a constant reminder of where I was. The air inside was thick, dimly lit by the faint glow of the neon signs outside. I sat across from Jordan, my only friend, the only person who felt like a piece of my past in a world I barely recognized anymore. His expression was a mixture of determination and concern, and his hands rested on the table between us, palms up, as if he was physically offering me something I couldn’t take.

“While I can still feel the truth driving into me.” His breath hitched, and for a flicker of a second—he was vulnerable. Real. “She wanted more than me,” he said hoarsely. “She wanted my power. She thought if she seduced it out of me, she could control it. Rule beside me.” Lydia swallowed hard. “And?” “She used the Seventh Sin without understanding it. She called on what lives below this house. It nearly killed us both.” “What is the Seventh Sin?” He brushed her hair from her face. “It’s not just power, Lydia. It’s addiction. Once you touch it, you crave it. You beg for it. You lose yourself in it.”

I don't know if it's due to our poor communication or if my love for him is just escaping the window. Chase and I have come along, and the last thing I want to do to him is cheat on him, but it seems I don't have a choice. All this guilt is killing me day by day, but still, I can't stop. I have become so attached to my coach lately, and it all started after that single night we spent together, and I'm sure tonight will form a steal for my addiction to him. "What's wrong with me?"

It has the ever so slight scent of coffee and dark chocolate. Crap. I messed up.

It is like Sin senses this, so he holds onto my hand, intertwining our fingers. Now, all of the seven deadly sins have gathered around us; Pride in his suit and blonde hair, Envy in her dark skin, Sloth in her shiny but lazy aura, Wrath in his angriest form, Greed standing quiet as usual, Gluttony standing in a conrer beside Greed with something in his mouth. And the last one, Luca, I am guessing he should be Lust. That explains a lot about his sexual gratifications. “We are leaving. Pave the way.” Sin glares at Envy.