Smoke And Sin Book Novelas e Histórias

“Can we leave here now?” “Where to?” I paused. Tonight… I really don't want to go back home. My family would just continue taunting me about being rejected by Elias, especially Ava—my younger sister—she won't let me breathe. “To any nearby bar.” He nodded, ignited the car and pulled away. ……………… Sin and Smoke Lounge looked like Christmas had exploded inside it. Red and gold baubles hung from the ceiling. Snowflake lights flickered. A giant Christmas tree glowed in the center of the room. Wolves were laughing, drinking, exchanging gifts, kissing under mistletoe like life was beautiful.

The kitchen glows under the soft lights, steam curling lazily from the pot of tomato sauce on the stove. The air is mix with garlic, the earthy sweetness of basil, and the deep, smoky char of browned meat. The marble island feels cold against my forearms as I perch on the stool, wearing nothing but Reid’s oversized button down shirt. The cotton is soft and warm from his body, the sleeves rolled to my elbows after my long, steaming bath. I watch him move barefoot across the tiles. He’s shirtless, jeans riding low on his hips as he stirs the sauce.

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.

Every stroke made that sloppy, wet sound like he was knuckle-deep in sin. He pulled them out — a string of wetness clinging between my folds and his fingers. Then, he brought them to his mouth. Maintaining eye contact, he sucked them clean, slow and deliberate. "Fuck, you taste like sin," he growled. "Like you were made just for me to ruin." I trembled. My throat completely dried. Before I could answer, he crashed his mouth against mine— tasting me, feeding me my own desire, devouring me. The kiss was filthy, wet, and possessive. My moan vibrated against his tongue.

I knew for a fact that none of those prayers would reach heaven. Then the service started. Father John began slowly, his voice deep, infuriating, and commanding, filling every ear and heart. At first, I believed I could survive it. Maybe if I didn’t listen, maybe if I did not look at him, maybe if I zoned out, I would be fine. Maybe I could actually endure. And then he began. “Sin.” I gulped. “Begins as a small seed, unseen, almost harmless. But if you ignore it? It would destroy your soul.

I need more of it. I grin. This is exactly what I needed to take the edge off and forget about my little bird. Until she pushes herself to the forefront of my mind, of course. *** Smoke plumes around my head as I shove my left hand into the pocket of my jeans. My right hand flicks away the ash at the end of the cigarette, falling to the filthy sidewalk. Sighing, I glance up at the apartment buildings as I pass by. It’s nearly 1:00 in the morning, but there are plenty of lights on, illuminating the room behind the sheer curtains. Harlem isn’t the safest area of the city, so who knows what is happening behind closed doors in these buildings.

As much as I do, when Sin pulls out of my throat and I am dripping off his cum, he pulls me to him and kisses me fervently. Panting, Sinclair has this satisfied look when his eyes meet with mine. "You looked good with my cock in your mouth," he tells me and I rub my legs together, begging for the tiniest friction, hoping that I get it somehow. With nothing else to say, I watch Sin arrange his attire, and leave the house, to a date with another woman, one he plans on marrying. Smokey's warning to me comes back fresh and I choke on tears, knowing that shit hurts as hell.

“It’s one cigarette. If that’s your idea of sin, I have to admit I’m slightly disappointed.” “Oh no.” A few flakes of whitish ash drifted away like cherry blossoms in spring. “I have a familiarity with sin that is as profound as it is unglamorous.” He sounded bleak, and she ached for him. Wanted to make him smile again. “Maybe you’ve been committing the wrong sins.” “All the more reason to resist temptation and restrict myself to cigarettes.”

Newcome snapped his fingers before laying his chin on his arms across the table. "Well he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn't see much, but he had a beautiful tan complexion, high cheekbones, full rose-colored lips, and a profound voice," I spoke shyly while my cheeks turned pink. "Yup, tiny fish," Mr. Newcome huffed as he exited the bench.