Sinful Discord Novels & Stories

“Alright, I don’t know what’s going on but…” “Oh shut it,” she interrupted me. “All of this war going on in this pack is all your fault. You brought this upon us. We were living in peace before you showed up with your stupid magic coven and you brought your bad luck. If we have wars it’s because of you and your…” “Enough!” Sinclair smacked the table, sending a loud bang across the room which had everything silent. We both stared at him as he fumed in anger. “Follow me,” he ordered her, scraping his seat against the floor as they both walked up the stairs to his study.

Chapter Nine- Under The Table Sins Part Three every movement of mine pleads for him to help me sin and my actions do not reflect the voice of conscience, shouting for me to do the right thing and not spread my legs for my mother's husband! ~♧~• Pleasure is a sin.

Marcus groaned low and rough, his breath hot against my ear, but his body stayed tense, that huge dick twitching inside me like it was fighting him. “Sophia, this is so fucking wrong,” he muttered, voice thick with shock and growing hunger. “Your mom is sleeping right there next to us. I thought I was fucking my wife and now my stepdaughter’s pussy is creaming all over my cock. We have to stop, baby.” “I don’t want to stop,” I whispered back desperately, rocking my waist in slow filthy circles so my slippery pussy lips dragged up and down his shaft, coating every inch in my hot slick.

The air was thick and rotten with the scent of sex, the metallic tang of our shared corruption, and the raw musk of men who had forgotten how to be human. I reached around her, my fingers finding Reign’s length as he moved inside her, the two of us connected through her body, our pulses synchronizing in a rhythmic, unholy dance. It was the ultimate betrayal of the bloodline, a total dissolution of the family unit into a singular, pulsing entity of sin.

"Before today I could not choose because I did not know the door existed." "And Marcus Harmon," he said. "Is a man who made a cowardly decision at forty-two and has been carrying it with considerable guilt for thirty-two years," she said. "He is not my father in any way that requires me to restructure my history. He is a man who contributed to my existence and then contributed to a trust that my mother never touched and who has been watching me from a guilty distance for longer than I have known about it." She paused. "I think in time he may become something. I do not know what. I am not going to decide in advance."

She nods to me. The melody crescendos, the theater's walls bending inward. Eden grips the dagger, trembling. "Don't," I say softly. He meets my gaze, tears carving paths through the gold sheen on his skin. "What if it's better? What if we *win* here?" --- **The Dissonance** The Cantor's voice booms. *"Choose, little king. A paradise composed, or a life *discordant*."* Eden raises the blade. For a heartbeat, I think he'll strike me-erase the storm, the venom, the weight of what we are. But he turns and plunges it into the mirror.

I looked at her; the birds moved at the window behind her head. "The alternative," I said slowly, "is that a man made a terrible decision and spent eight years trying to pay for it in the only ways he could, and the ways he chose were inadequate but they were real, and he never stopped thinking about the family he hurt." I closed my eyes for a moment. "And the alternative is that his son is not him, and whatever Xander is to me exists separately from what his father did, and I can't let one be the reason I refuse the other." The kitchen was very quiet.

He took them both out of my hands before I could argue, still staring at me, clearly not convinced. We left campus in his car. The drive home was completely silent. No music, no small talk, nothing. Just the low hum of the engine and the click of the turn signal. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the city blur past, but every few minutes I could feel him glance over at me. The guilt settled deeper with every mile, heavy and cold. Sex with my elder brother. Fuck. That was worse than anything else I’d ever done. It is sinful.

"The devil is here! He is mocking us! Satan has cursed my soul, and he’s doing it through her... because my daughter is a wretched sinner!" Father Edmund frowned slightly, gently easing my mother's hands off his arm. "Eleanor, calm yourself. Why would you say that to your daughter?" "Because she’s a prostitute!" my mother screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She sells her body! She fucks men for a living, dragging our family's name straight into hell!" I felt the judgment of every holy statue in the room, but I wasn't about to stand there and let her humiliate me. I crossed my arms, tilting my chin up as my stubborn pride took over.

Is written in blood above its head. I won't lie and say I'm not terrified. I am, I'm extremely terrified. Each time my eyes scan the walls my fear gets intense. I am however also feeling immensely disgusted and angry. All these feelings are mixing up together to form an unstable potion inside of me. A potion that ignites my rage, more especially my thirst for revenge. My bloody thirst for revenge. I've never felt it at such an intensity before. I just want to tear everything apart. I feel myself sinking into a dark place hidden deep in my mind. A dark place that holds the animalistic side of me. The sound of a speaker crackles through the place. A faint deep voice calls out to me. It snaps m