Sinful Skins Novels & Stories

Everyone has a secret desire, something they crave. Some are simply better at hiding theirs. Behind closed doors forbidden fantasies come to life. A sheltered woman craves a man she was never supposed to want. A desperate maid catches the eye of a wealthy heir. A bride makes a mistake a week before her wedding. A bodyguard crosses the line with the woman he's sworn to protect. And in the supernatural world, and Omega realises that fate can be cruel at the same time sinful as she becomes the heartthrob of two wolves. From forbidden passion and dangerous attractions, to possessive lovers and secret encounters, fated mates and desires that refuse to stay hidden, lessons in sintuation is a co

The urge in my heart to ask Ivan everything, but I stopped myself just thinking he would leave me once he knew someone ruined me, and he despised me and never loved me his possessiveness for me is not something hidden from me. “Ohh, God! Help me” I mumble, clamping my, hands I prayed to god to help. I just couldn't believe how I allowed myself to sin, and cheat on my husband who loves me. I went inside the bathroom and opened the shower knob to take again pour. Furthermore, I scrubbed my torso like I wanted to peel out my skin and remove all the sinful touch from my body. I started rubbing my skin again and again. I appeared to hate my body, just thinking someone did a dirty thing with my bo

Long, jagged streaks of white light cut through the clouds like scars, representing every file the Aethelgard Corporation had ever dragged to the bin and forgotten. Beside me, Silas let out a ragged breath. I turned to look at him, and the sight made my breath catch in my throat. The liquid silver infection from the Board-member was no longer just a mark on his chest. It was spreading like a slow-motion lightning strike, turning his deep, obsidian skin into a sterile, featureless white. It looked like marble, cold and unyielding, and every time the white touched a new patch of his skin, Silas flinched as if he were being erased while still alive.

His skin felt like fire under my hands. The moment I touched him, he made a low, broken sound. His body locked. Then something slammed through both of us. His body was a masterpiece of raw power: broad shoulders, rippling muscles under fur-tipped skin, and eyes glowing amber in the dim light. Tonight, the change had hit him hard, leaving gashes across his chest and thighs that needed stitching. I had administered a sedative, but it only dulled the edges; his cock still strained against his torn jeans, thick and insistent, betraying the primal urges the moon stirred.

Slowly, I felt him lie back, so I was lying on him, and he was staring up at the sky. We fell into another comfortable silence, his steady heartbeat a worthy company for me. I melted further into him, the tears leaving. Why would I need to cry when I was perfectly content? I know now. I keep coming back to Keanne, not just because he is so beautiful, or because he is so powerful, so magical, or because he was my mate. It is because he was deeply stained in every color of sin. I am a sinner, and I love to sin.

Only I know how these looks of pity feel . No one knows....you may call scars beautiful but you know the one who actually has them. Knows deep somewhere in their heart, how ugly they look. Something which was so perfect, something so flawless that every one envied it. Was now just an object of pity. The skin which was perfect once, is tarnished now. And you know the worst part? No matter what you do. It will never....be like it was before. What's lost can never return. Sulking ,she didn't realised when the sun was down from the horizon and it was dark.

Like no one really lived here. Then I heard it. A thud. Another. A sharp exhale. I followed the sound down a side hall. A pair of double doors were cracked open. The smell of sweat and leather slipped through. Inside was Ricardo. He was on the bench, pressing weights above his chest. Muscles straining, jaw tight. Tattoos shifting over his skin. Sweat slicked his shoulders. Every movement was sharp, controlled. I froze at the door. The clang of the weights rang out as he dropped them onto the rack. He grabbed a towel, dragging it over his chest. His head turned.

One of them barked. His voice caused chills to descend on me. “I-I don’t know. I just woke up here.” I stammered. Another stepped forward. “Goddess, look at his skin." he said, looking at me with shock mixed with disgust. "What kind of skin is this?" I heard someone growl. “A beta with no wolf. No crest. No scent of pack. And a strange skin.” Came another voice. “Abomination,” someone spat, his carmine eyes glittering with hate. “No one in Torguyl has this skin. He could be a demon, or worse.”

She took a step back, panic prickling at her skin. “Don’t be afraid, princess,” the second one said quickly, holding up his hands as though to calm her. “We’re not like the others. We won’t hurt you.” But then the first leaned closer, his grin spreading. “All I’m begging for,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger, “is just one taste. Just let those pretty lips of yours suck me off, and I’ll let you go.” The second smirked, his gaze trailing over her trembling form. “I don’t even need that much. I’ll be happy with just your hands. Just… touch me. That’s all.”

"Does your elite intellect lack the capacity to manufacture a punishment that possesses an actual shred of novelty?" The Princess and the Discard Her skin was exceptionally delicate and highly cultivated. After nothing more than a few minutes of exposure to the open tarmac, her porcelain face had already flushed a brilliant, crimson red under the toxic rays, looking exactly like a ripe, succulent peach waiting to be crushed.