Sinful Ink Novels & Stories

“You looked so beautiful.” I want to say I know but I want him to answer my question first. I want to know his reason first. I am a sinner and I can’t admit that to him. I am not what he thinks I am. I am not the woman he liked because I am hiding something inside me that I know will break what we have right now. This is just a fucking three months mission! “Answer me, Peter.”

Fisher of men. He'd waited for her 4AM. She'd come stumbling out of the building Fisher of men. Fisher of men. Fisher of men... She was drowsy. She was drunk. She was weak. She reeked of sin. Sin. Sin. Sin. Fisher of men. Fisher of men. Fisher of men... He'd wrapped a white handkerchief to her nose and she'd caved. Too weak to put up a fight. Too drenched in sin.

I'm not about to believe it until I've experienced it myself. "I'm trusting you," I say softly, as Sinful crouches down beside me, holding my arm out, looking for a vein. "I hope I'm not making a mistake." Sinful makes a strange noise from his throat. "I hope so too." I breathe in deeply, wanting to say something to counteract his statement, however, he carelessly slides the needle under my skin, making me flinch. His grip is like a vice, keeping me still as he presses the poison down into my vein, leaving a disturbing blue trail along with it.

Expressive touch, Passionate embraces, Strong hands upon me. Oh, those hands. They ignited sensations, Intense and forbidden, Like words unsaid beneath a larger form, a form warmer, wilder, and longer. Moans beneath his sculpted body, a blend of heaven and transgression. Pure desire, a carnal dance of sin. Though prayers for forgiveness may be whispered, The allure lingers, Drawing me back again and again. ISABELLA’S POV If there was something more frustrating, it was having to stay married to a man who was not only old but sexually dull.

I’m going to enjoy our naughty girl. – Ink As Tank fastened leather cuffs around her wrists, Ink stripped out of his clothes. He then removed her shoes and jeans revealing the black thigh highs. He let out a low growl as he put her shoes back on and fastened cuffs on her. The cuffs effectively placed her in a perfect X position, open for their viewing pleasure.

Sage Despite what everyone said, what they will continue to say, despite the anarchy he raises, Dante Sokolov is sin wrapped in a gloriously beautiful male human body. And he's what truly living feels like. This substantial, nebulous force that could never be watered down or put out. When we agreed to be friends with benefits last year, I knew he'd be bad for me. I never really cared. I was caught up in his hot body and sexy accent that felt velvety in my ears.

The plain cover hid the pages and pages of pictures Kiana had found in her explorations into the darker side of the internet. Halfway through she found the high-resolution black-and-white photographs she adored, the ones with a pair of red lips barely touching the head of a stiff c*ck or a woman pushed down onto a plush bed by a man taking her from behind. Often she had fantasies develop around these pictures, ones she typed down for her blog – ones she brought with her to bed late at night. She looked at a picture of a tall strong man holding a limp and naked girl in his burly arms, his face hidden by the shadow as he held his prize before him. Claimed by him.

"Come in." The door slowly opened, and Angeline, the prettily innocent assistant walked in. I looked up to her as she broke into a smile, one that was just as innocent as hers. I did have a thing for innocent girls, but...innocent like Cora. The sort that could go completely wild for me. That image of her lying on her stomach, my name tattooed on her back, her skin reddened with the fingerprints. The flesh dipping everywhere my fingers roamed...

Left a streak on my skin. Dark as ink. Darker than blood. No name. No crest. No return. But somehow, it was mine. And I knew,knew,this thing didn’t belong to the house. Didn’t belong to this life. I should’ve woken Milo. He was down the hall. Close enough to call for, far enough not to hear. But I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I broke the seal with my nail and unfolded the letter inside. The handwriting was elegant. Sharp. Each loop looked like it had been carved, not written. The ink wasn’t black,it was red. Deep burgundy.

And the tattoos that peeked out from the sleeves of his suit while he kept his hand on the steering wheel were too much for me. He looks good, like a walking sin in a suit. Angelo pays him well if he can afford only expensive things. I noticed that everything he wears and owns is branded and expensive. His black matte Audi is enough proof of that. "Excuse me, but who were you to tell me how to dress?" I asked, getting out of my trance and switching to my normal self like I wasn't just eye fucking him seconds ago. Good, he's too concentrated on the road to pay attention to me.