Sinners Consumed Novels & Stories

Wasn’t Sinners’ lead guitarist named Brian Sinclair? One of the men seated in the booth turned his head to scratch his chin with his shoulder. Despite his mirrored sunglasses, she instantly recognized vocalist Sedric Lionheart. Her heart rate kicked up a couple notches. It was Sinners. “I am so fucking drunk!” Brian yelled. He rolled off the table, knocking over several empty beer glasses, and landed on the laps of two of his companions. They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.

It’s more sensational and my body felt so sensitive to him. “ We’re indeed friends, but can’t you see that we’re all a sinner? We’re born to become a sinner. We live for sins, and die for it. “ He stated that made me even more puzzled. What does he mean? A sinner? But can’t they change it into good ones?

Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. A Sinner's Redemption umitsaquarius. All Rights Reserved © 2021

More and more of my juices pulled out, coating his face as he worked my clit in relentless circles. I had to admit the truth to myself, entangling myself with not just one but two of my stepbrothers was unquestionably forbidden. The weight of the situation was heavy on my conscience, and I knew I was walking on a precarious path. It was a forbidden desire that I couldn’t easily untangle, no matter how much I told myself it was wrong.

Eventually, Tina was handed a life sentence as the principal offender, while Zach was let off easy with just ten years. Nevertheless, when Zach was finally released ten years later, my daughter was already in grade school. He tried to find us, but we had moved out, and the city where we used to live had also changed drastically. With his parents gone too, he didn't even have a place to stay. He ended up fighting for turf with some homeless bums under a bridge, who eventually mobbed him and beat him to death, while his rotting corpse was only found after putrefaction. As it happened in some quiet far flung corner, there were no cameras, and the perpetrators were never found.

Hearing this, all of the men immediately sank to their knees and shook their heads. “No, no, sir, please, not the punishment room.” One of them stated. “We will do anything, we will even cut off our fingers as compensation. Please, don’t send us to that psychopath. We are begging you.” They pleaded. “We promise we will find her. We promise. Give us one more chance, I am begging you.” Another one of man pleaded. Dante looked at them with a look of pure disgust. “Your incompetence made me lose one of the most important women of my life…” He started as he walked closer toward them and pulled out a small blade from his pocket and handed it over to them.

She chuckled loudly and she laughed so hard that she began to tear up. Finally, she stopped laughing and her once smiley face turned cold. It was so cold that it could make a hot plate of food cold. She vented her anger on the pictures she was holding by squeezing them. With a determined and unwavering look on her face, she said, “Dear Sinners, be ready for your judgement. Carla is back and the time of your reckoning has come!”. She burst into uncontrollable laughter, which echoed in the room.

Mark faded faster in his bed, the mask slipping as the past clawed toward the light. I remained trapped, my screams echoing unanswered through walls that refused to release what they had taken. The original sin had not died. It had simply learned to wait for those brave enough to listen.

Seraphine echoed smoothly as they turned to depart, the door clicking shut behind them with finality. I slumped against the cold floor, the weight of their words crushing what little spirit remained. The celebration's distant laughter mocked me through the walls, a stark contrast to the suffocating dread that now claimed every breath. In this world of wolves and ruthless alphas, I was nothing but a disposable pawn in their games of power and legacy. My wolf whimpered faintly within, echoing the despair that threatened to swallow me whole. There was no escape, no mercy—only the cold promise of dawn bringing whatever fate they deemed fit.

So… consumed. Quentin’s hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements as he ate her with growing intensity. Two fingers joined his tongue, sliding deep inside her and curling against that perfect spot while his mouth focused relentlessly on her clit. The wet sounds filled the room, mingling with the distant crash of waves and their shared ragged breathing. Verity’s strokes on him grew erratic, her focus splintering as the coil inside her wound unbearably tight. “Quentin… I’m… I can’t—”