Smoke And Sin Book Novels & Stories

I said with a poker face. “Seven years? And you did not do it? My goodness, Yen, is he really a man?” I looked away for a while. I couldn’t hold the gaze that made my heart jump out of my ribs. “We both grew up believing that sex should only be for couples within the bond of marriage. And doing it is a sin as what the Bible says.” “We are already in the new era where the millennials are doing it.” “I know, but it doesn’t exempt them from calling it a sin. If only young people follow that rule, there shouldn’t have been unnecessary miseries for having unwanted children and all the emotional struggles that come with it.”

His breath hit me first—stale alcohol and smoke—and then his grin, all yellowed teeth and amusement. “I’m not a princess,” I shot back, scowling. They both laughed. The sound stung more than it should have. Why couldn’t they just let me pass? I just wanted a damn drink. Then a voice came from behind me. “Let her pass.” Everything shifted instantly. The laughter died. The air changed. And just like that, they stepped aside like the Red Sea parting. My brows pulled together. Who the hell had that kind of power? I turned and my jaw nearly dropped. Because standing there was a Greek god in black, wrapped in sin and quiet authority.

Then he pushes his cock even deeper and we both moan like animals I know this dark romance can destroy everything. It is very bad. It is disgusting. It is the worst kind of sin. But every time his thick cock slides into my wet cunt, every time he slaps my ass and calls me his dirty stepdaughter whore, every time his hot cum leaks out of me later while I sit with my family, I feel more alive than ever. The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier

“Since right fucking now. Hand one over.” She dug in her purse, pulled out a crumpled soft pack, tossed it into my lap along with a cheap lighter. “Your funeral.” I shook one out, lit it with shaking fingers, took a deep drag—and immediately regretted everything. The smoke hit my lungs like battery acid. I doubled over the wheel, coughing so hard my eyes watered, chest seizing. The cigarette dropped into my lap; I swatted it away, hacking until I could breathe again. “What the hell am I smoking?” I rasped, voice wrecked.

His hand reached around to stroke me again, edging me mercilessly while buried to the hilt. “Harder,” I begged, forgetting the prayer entirely. He slapped my ass. “Pray or I pull out.” I forced the words out, voice already hoarse. The contrast was destroying me; sacred words spilling from my lips while his cock claimed my hole and his hand denying my orgasm. I was shaking, crying, completely addicted to the torment. Finally, after another round of edging that left me broken, he gripped my hips hard. “Now, Noah. Come while you thank God for this sin.”

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

He wasn’t trying to please me; he was claiming me, punishing me, and losing himself in the sin. And God help me, I loved it. The mere force of it, the taboo, the danger, the size of him filling me so completely—it ignited a fire in me I didn’t know existed. I met his thrusts, pushing back, encouraging him with filthy whispers. “That’s it… fuck me… just like you fuck her…”

Nick's POV The room smelled of smoke, burnt coffee, and tension so thick it felt almost tangible. I stood at the edge of the long mahogany table, arms crossed, jaw tight. Damien Cross smiled too easily from across the room, like a predator who knew he’d already won. My men shifted uneasily, glancing at me and then at Rafe. Their eyes held questions, doubts, and the sort of fear that comes from standing in the middle of something far bigger than themselves.

Perfect. “See you soon.” He’d written it himself, fog blooming from his mouth in the cold like smoke from a sermon. She’d see it when she came home, her pretty mouth falling open in that little O of shock he used to love so much. She thought she was safe with that big bastard in her house. Cute. She thought she was strong now. Even cuter. Eden Cross had carried his sins once without even knowing it. Signed her name to accounts she’d never opened. Smiled beside him in church while his assistant—God bless Tiffany—warmed his bed after evening service.

“You look the same but maybe a little more... uptight.” He didn’t smile and he has never smiled around me…Not like I give a fuck though. I grabbed a bottle of water and leaned back against the fridge. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to stay. I just need a few days.” "You’re always welcome here," he said, but it felt more like a lie than a comfort. I looked at him longer this time. He had that whole powerful older man thing going for him, the type women write smutty books about. Well styled hair, a jaw that could cut glass, and a body that made expensive suits look like sin.