Sinful Skins Novels & Stories

The marks of his fingers were imprinted on the smooth skin of the inner thighs. Rye could see his essence oozed out of the pink folds in sticky globs of opaque white. Deep inside, he wanted to comfort her. He wanted to ask forgiveness but his jealousy still ate at him. Other men used her. Old men with money to spend on drugs. Old sick men who liked debauchery. Sexually-depraved men who preyed on women like Gillian...

She blinked long and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap, I couldn't let any of the details go, it was surreal. — Tattoos are sins, Lauren... - He commented softly, his conspiratorial way full of meanings making me as tense as crazy, I felt myself being led by his voice so dangerously close. - How good then that I only have one sin, your highness... Having many makes the situation hopeless - I spoke in an almost desperate nervous tone looking directly at her, her eyes were searing hot and I could only imagine a chilling smile with that look well there, thinking about his conviction that skin designs represented sins.

His answer drifted away “How am I an example?” “Have you ever noticed? How come your skin is like a 12-year-old when in fact, you are already 24? And why does your skin radiate like a newborn baby when the sun hits? Or why your lips are still as soft and pink like a newborn, that they would probably bruise if I pinched them together” saying that, he really did pinch her lower lips between his thumb and index finger. As if agreeing with him, it drained out of the blood and turn white as she frowned in pain. She hissed and rubbed her lips when he let go.

Why wasn’t she awakening? Mortus took off his tunic, his glowing white skin littered with a few scars, but mostly tattoos of crosses and busty women. “I’ll get them covered, just for you. I’ll rip the skin from my body if that will make it better.” My arms were trying to crawl away from him, only to be pulled back to the center of the bed.

Chapter: 29. ****** Eric ogled at him, scrutinizing him. Snow's skin is so fucking beautiful each time Eric sees him it's like he is just seeing him for the first time. Skin flawless, spotless so much that it feels like a sin to mar it with his wicked touch knowing what kinds of touch he wishes to lay claim to his flawless skin. If only he knew how many bruises that skin has taken but having been blessed with the perfect body type, Snow heals each time and his skin holds nothing to remember his terrible past, just the haunting memories of it in his mind.

It has been foretold that once you begin to read the tale of Aphrodite you are unable to stop until the very end. If you are still reading, I say you are either very brave or very stupid. I pray for you... May God have mercy on your soul She had skin as dark as midnight when the moon is covered by dark night clouds; her skin is as dark as midnight when not a single star is in the sky to shine a light upon the earth; and her skin is as dark as the abyss when you fall to your death and succumb to the angel of death. Yet, the very same dark skin is as smooth as silk.

I gnashed my teeth. Her snow-white skin, which looked like a turnip, would be bloody red because I would not hesitate to peel, tear off, and scrape her alive. Don’t she ever dare mess with me again! Once was enough—it was already enough that I once cried and almost ruined myself because of that wicked witch.

But not before he had paid for his sins. His skin was pale and grotesque. Marks laced the sickly looking surface like tattoos. He'd cut himself. He'd watched the blood drain and felt a sense of satisfaction. Watched the sin flow out of him. He'd purged himself. Purged himself of his sins. Mark after mark after mark... He'd purged and purged and purged. A part of him knew he could die but he made the marks deeper leaving them unwashed and unstitched afterwards. They smelled... Rotted. He was slowly dying.

In the silence around me, his little moans were making me mad crazy. He pulled his hand on the wall, almost slightly brushing through my arm. He pushed his lips hard on my skin and sucked my skin very passionately, slowly moving his face on my neck. I don't remember anyone touching me before, oh wait! My first kiss with Cain wasn't even this satisfying. Honestly speaking, I don't know when it ended, but I felt good. Does that make me a sl***? I mean just imagine your celebrity crush or a famous hot celebrity sucking your skin, ummmmm I think I'm a sl**** of that makes me one.

These normal problems were like a comforting, grounding balm for him. But under that thin layer of normalcy, the pack was getting ready for a storm. A storm with two fronts. The first was inside, beating at Nate's own skin. The second was out in the city, a dismal reminder that their enemy was not waiting. There were more bodies being found. The news broadcasts were carefully sanitized, but the pack’s channels buzzed with the brutal details. All of the victims were on the margins of the supernatural society, and they all had the same horrible signature: their skin was colorless, there were inky black streaks creeping up their necks like corrupted veins, and there were those same bizarr