Sinners Anonymous Book Novels & Stories

She was suddenly aware of how shabby her jeans and simple sweater looked in this opulent space. "It's okay. Call me Damon." He gestured to the leather sofa. Ara sat, clutching her bag like a shield. Damon remained standing, studying her. “I’ve read every book you’ve written,” he stated. “All twenty-three. Your imagination is… exceptional. Filthy. Creative. It's a shame you've landed in this current situation.” Hearing a stranger acknowledge her erotic work so bluntly made her stomach twist.

(ONE CROSS) “PRIDE, WRATH, GLUTTONY, LUST, ENVY, GREED, AND SLOTH.” Knowing more than what other mortals and gifted might think of her at first glance, she whispers the sins as the words vanish in front of her. Turns everything into ashes and goes directly inside the book that somehow loses all its pristine details and colors, and that is left with an utter old and torn cover that somehow is being forgotten by time and forsaken by anyone. It flies right back into her arms, where she hums for seconds and whispers.

The type of rich they were wasn't something that needed an introduction. I cleared my throat while staring into his muddy brown eyes. “You have a case file of murder and…” “And I was released,” he cut me off, gritting his teeth in a smirk right at me. Yes, that was his usual behavior; nothing was ever wrong with what he did, and he never felt bad about a single action. “You have antisocial personality disorder. Have you been taking your medication, sir?” I tried to maintain professionalism each time, but no, he had a way of sliding through the cracked doors.

His thumb teased the sensitive head of my cock, smearing precum everywhere. “Such a dirty little secret,” he breathed, biting down on my shoulder to muffle his own groan. “Hiding under the bed after being stretched open while your sister was right here… and now you’re fucking yourself on me again like a desperate slut.” The risk of fucking my sister's boyfriend while she was I the next room, the wrongness of it and the way his cock stretched and filled me so perfectly, Christ! I didn't want it to end. But not long after I was already cumming, spilling over his fist and across his abs with a muffled cry.

Once, when Sister Agnes rose for a midnight prayer, the demon fucked me with her horns, curved tips grinding inside while I pretended to sleep. By the time the bell for Matins tolled, I was a wreck—body bruised, soaked, utterly spent. Cum and squirt stained the sheets; the air reeked of sex. As the sisters stirred, I feigned illness, curling under the blanket while the demon vanished with a promise: “Tomorrow, the confessional. I’ll make you confess every sin while I absolve you with my cock.” I shuddered, equal parts dread and desire. The corruption deepened, spreading like fire through dry tinder. And I burned willingly.

I was the one on my knees with spit on my chin and cum still drying between my thighs, begging to please him in front of her. And when I took him into my mouth again, slowly, like I was unwrapping the gift I prayed for since I was sixteen, I moaned like a girl in love with her addiction. Because that’s what it was. He was my addiction. My first. My last. My fucking ruin. The heat of him filled my mouth, thick and heavy on my tongue, and I didn’t stop. I didn’t care how loud I was. I didn’t care how ruined I looked.

Just delete the book from your library and add it back. Thank you! Sincerely yours Author Blackangel

The great Alpha Xander Colt of Moon pack. He wasn't the man of love and softness. Callousness and roughness dripped from his personality. Dominance and intimidation were his companions. This man was a cold-hearted beast. He has done enough wrongs in his life that no pure water of holiness can wash his sins away. A barbarian, an assassin who only cares for his pack. Whatever he did, he did it for the safety of his pack. His barbaric stories were told to kids. Mothers would use his name to scare their kids. The legends of his cruelty were known far across lands.

' Ethan smiled as he looked down at his hands, where he'd peeled the label off the bottle again, this time somehow managing to peel it off in one piece, his fingers tearing a shape out of the thin paper. 'It's a story about one of their own,' he said. 'The first Angel to fall. The first one to question. The first one to defy. The one who started it all. It's a Gospel, but not one that was ever going to make the final cut. The book is the Gospel of Lucifer.' I sucked in a breath, felt my stomach flip, my muscles weaken. I stared at him, was unable to take my eyes off him. When I spoke, my voice trembled. 'Why did your parents have that book, Ethan?'

“Stay for that first session, Sophia. The confessional booth is open. Let’s begin with a proper confession so I can guide you right.” My heart hammered as I followed him to the dimly lit booth. I knelt on the worn cushion, the wooden screen between us carved with tiny crosses. The air felt thicker in here, warmer. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I started, voice quiet. “It’s been two weeks since my last confession. I… I was vain about how I looked in my choir robe last Sunday. I liked when people complimented me.” His voice came through the screen, low and commanding.