Sinful Dress Novels & Stories

He tossed it onto the bed, barely sparing her a glance before moving to the dresser, where he retrieved a pile of dark colored clothes. “Here.” Serena blinked as he threw them toward her. She barely managed to catch them, stumbling back slightly from the weight of the oversized fabric. She scowled down at the bundle in her arms. A black sweater, thick sweatpants, and a plain undershirt. They smelled like him…clean, sharp, laced with gunpowder and a hint of whiskey. She wrinkled her nose. Great. Now I’m going to smell like the devil himself. “You can wear those,” Lucian said coolly, as if she had a choice. “Your dress is useless now.”

"Maybe the 'ugly princess' had a wardrobe malfunction. Or maybe she’s busy practicing how to walk in those heels we saw with the dresses." Roman didn't laugh. His mind was still on the center dress—the sheath-styled one that pooled on the floor. He had chosen it precisely because it looked restrictive. He wanted her contained. He wanted her to feel the weight of the Moretti name the moment the fabric touched her skin. The Arrival

As we are shoving her clothes into her bag, she starts sobbing. I turned around. “Sinclair. What’s wrong?” She turned around, and she was holding a blue dress. It’s the same dress from the welcome party. “Who did this?!” I looked at the dress, and it’s shredded. I looked at Sinclair, and she is devastated. “Sinclair, talk to me. What is special about this dress?” It’s a simple dress. It doesn’t look expensive, but it looks like a nice dress to wear on a date to a movie and dinner. I don’t understand why she’s crying.

But he gave in nonetheless. Penelope watched as the female attendant pulled out the first dress, a strapless one with a large skirt, but quickly dismissed it. "Next one." She said, making the female attendant give her a questioning look. "What about this one, Ms. Cube? It's gorgeous." "I know, but I'm not very much a fan of the color and how tight the waist line looks, please understand." The attendant frowned slightly before she pulled out the next dress. This one was black, strapless and had the bottom glittering like the night sky when thousands of stars were out. It instantly caught her attention and Penelope smiled.

Tonight, I’m not just his stepdaughter. I’m his goddamn downfall. With one last look in the mirror—a wicked, dangerous woman staring back at me—I grab my stilettos and head for the door. Game on, Daddy. The dress is too tight. Too short. Too sinful. Exactly why I wore it. Black silk clings to me like a fucking second skin, whispering across every curve with every step I take. The neckline plunges like a damn invitation—deep enough to make a preacher drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness he knows he won't get.

Nora Sinclair slipped out of her sleek black dress in the powder room and stared at her reflection. The sequined fabric clung to her curves, the plunging neckline daring—and entirely intentional. She exhaled, smoothing a stray lock of hair. Tonight was her ex’s engagement party, and she was determined not to look heartbroken. She’d be a vision: confident, unattainable, unbroken.

Let him watch what he threw away. A wicked smile curled my lips as I yanked open my wardrobe. Sin was already committed—why stop at one line crossed? I slipped into the shortest, slimmest dress I owned: crimson silk, backless, the hem kissing the very tops of my thighs. One wrong move and I’d flash the world my bare ass. Red stilettos, natural makeup with glossy lips that screamed fuck me. No panties. No mercy. I didn’t glance in the mirror. I didn’t need to. I could feel Kane’s marks throbbing under the fabric—his bites on my throat, his fingerprints bruised into my hips. Good. Let them show.

And suddenly, my own words from that morning sounded like poison. _You owe me everything_ But the moment I thought something had happened to her? Nothing else fucking mattered. Well... Except for the goddamn dress she had worn to the strip club. My jaw tightened as my eyes dragged slowly over her body again. Even unconscious, she looked— Christ. The dress was fucking sinful enough to make murder feel reasonable. Short enough to expose most of her slender legs and so tight it looked like it had been sewn onto her skin. Black fabric hugged every fucking curve without mercy, leaving her shoulders and chest exposed in ways that made something dark and violent crawl up my spine.

"This place has definitely seen a fistfight." A bored-looking saleswoman glanced up from her phone. "Can I help you?" "Yes. I need the ugliest dress in this entire establishment. Like... make-it-stop ugly. Like, 'she's not okay' levels. Think fashion felony." The woman blinked slowly. "...We have a clearance rack in the back." Thirty minutes and several horrified gasps later, Deja emerged from the dressing room triumphant. "THIS. Is my villain fit," It was neon yellow, covered in sequins that twitched in the light like they had opinions. The neckline was so low it was practically whispering state secrets. The hem was jagged like it had been attacked by raccoons.

That's why I told myself I will choose a dress from the first boutique I see, not wasting my precious time. Maddox saw me in the dress but didn't say anything. He looked at me with his expressionless gaze as he trailed down my body examining the details of the dress with a clenched jaw before looking away and sighing clearly annoyed at me taking so long. Only when I asked him if he likes it he mumbled under his breath "Yes" and that was it. So I decided not to end his torture and I just took this dress. I don't understand how Maddox doesn't feel even the slightest attraction toward me. Am I so ugly that he doesn't even want to look at me? Is my body so disgusting that he doesn't want to look