Sinful Shirt Novels & Stories

Lila The shirt shouldn’t have meant anything. Just a piece of soft black fabric folded into the corner of my drawer. Just a borrowed item, returned by mistake. That’s what I told myself when I found it again that morning, tucked beneath a clean blouse. But it still carried his scent. And now it was a problem. Rumors had already been festering since the night Damon caught me half-naked in the changing room and gave me that shirt to wear. I should’ve made sure it found its way back to him. Burned it, maybe.

"But let me remind you that this shirt is a limited-edited piece from a top-class designer, and you can't buy it even if you have the money! Be careful when hugging it to sleep—don't crumple it, drool on it, or make disgusting expressions while lying on it. I'm afraid it'll leave me traumatized when wearing the shirt." Feelings of gratitude in her heart immediately dissipated.

“Yes?” He holds up the shirt. "What the hell is this?" I blink at it, tilting my head. "I don’t wear that shade." His jaw clenches. "Then whose is it?" "Shouldn’t I be asking you that?" I say softly, my eyes wide, playing the hurt wife perfectly. His grip on the fabric tightens. For the first time, he is the one scrambling for explanations. --- THE SECOND TRAP Next, the messages. Suspicious, suggestive texts saved in his drafts. A single name in his contacts switched—his business partner Daniel now linked to a burner phone with flirtatious messages.

"Barging into my room like that." "We need to talk." Her chest still heaved, rising and falling heavily as it tried to catch up with her breathing. “What’s there to talk about?” She asked. I didn't miss the venomous glance she sent my way and somehow, it made me hard. I was losing it. My gaze traveled down her petite form. She wore an oversized shirt which she seemed to be drowning in. The length of the shirt went almost midway past her thighs. She was a voluptuous woman, and I stared at the bulge of her breasts against the material.

I watch him get in his closet to change, and I turn to Ansel with a smirk. “I feel so accomplished right now.” “Of course you do, you little psychopath.” “Don’t pretend you weren’t fighting for your life not to laugh, and that you didn’t hate that shirt, even a little.” He lifts his Hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged.” I’ve hated that shirt since I first saw him wear it when he and Ansel came to help me train by the riverside. I mean it’s a pretty nice shirt, but the obscene inscription makes me want to burn it every time I see it on him. What do you mean by “All the ladies…take them off for me”? I’d tolerate it if it ended at that and left people wondering what the meaning was, but no.

She asked in a low and submissive tone, still in a daze. "Get my Shirt off the fucking floor!" he snapped at her, Aliyah did not know when her legs moved on their own toward where she had thrown his shirt, on the ground, It was not just his shirt she saw, there was a white cashmere sweater on the floor too with a smudge of crimson red on the one side of it. she reluctantly picked up the blood-stained wears. Aliyah tried not to look at it, it was right before her face, in her hands and it felt like there was something wet rubbing against the side of her wrist as she held on. She did not even want to think of what it was or even look at it.

"And here I thought you forgot your old pal after all the fun we've had together." Amber's smile on her face grew as she spoke, but her eyes were serious and alert. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress shirt, but it wasn't buttoned and it was open enough for her ample cleavage to be shown. On top of her shirt was a black vest, but it was unbuttoned as well and her curvy waist was visible. Her hips were hugged by black leather shorts and her long legs were covered with knee high leather boots, with black stockings underneath and her long red hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, with some strands of hair falling on the sides of her face and in front of her ears.

But as soon as I touched it, I couldn't help but let it go because of its stinky smell. The once white shirt was brimmed with vulgar and disgusting words. Whore. Slut. Attention Seeker. Bitch. Those are the words written on my t-shirt, and even lots more on the back. The people that wrote those words must have had fun cursing at me like this. "Oh no! What happened to your shirt?" Tiffany was devastated after seeing my t-shirt on the ground. She immediately covered her nose after smelling that scent coming from my shirt. I also tried to pick up my jogging pants, but it has the same smell, and it's all torn out.

I stood in front of the mirror in my small apartment, smoothing down the black pencil skirt that hugged my hips a little too tightly. The cream blouse I paired it with was professional on the surface, but the way it clung to my breasts and dipped just low enough to show a hint of cleavage made it anything but innocent. I had chosen this outfit on purpose. I wanted Damien to look at me. I wanted him to want me the way I had wanted him for years. Was I really trying to seduce my brother's best friend and my boss?”

"My closet is full. I don't need anything more." Tessa rolled her eyes. "All of it bought by Julian. Don't you want to surprise him with something unexpected? Something he hasn't seen?" I thought for a second, and my eyes drifted to the window of a shop called Sinful Pleasure. Extremely sensual lingerie was displayed on the mannequins — and by the look of it, there was more than lingerie inside. I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, hesitating. But as Tessa and Fiorella grabbed an enormous pile of dresses and headed for the fitting rooms, I made my way toward the shop. Five warriors walked with me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.