Romans & histoires Smoke And Sin Book

A gunshot cracked. My breath caught. The tall man turned at the sound of it. Dark eyes locked onto me through the curtain of rain. I spun and ran. I didn’t get far. Before I could go around the corner a hand like iron closed around the back of my neck and slammed me against the brick wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. The same man—an expensive coat, the scent of tobacco and cold air—leaned in close enough that I could see the faint scar along his jaw.

He looked trapped between heaven and hell, his eyes pinned to my fingers sliding over my soaking cl*t. "God forgive me..." he muttered, a panicked prayer slipping through his teeth. He gave in. With a thud, he dropped to his knees right on the floor between my spread thighs. He looked utterly defeated by his own hunger. "Don't worry about Him," I whispered, a wicked smile pulling at my lips as I tilted my hips forward, pressing my dripping wetness right against his mouth. "There's no salvation in here. Just you, me, and the sin you're about to swallow. Now open your mouth and eat me."

This story contains explicit content please read if you are above 18. ************************************************** Ava All Men suck. If not that i like dick so much, I would give up on them. Who the hell knocks up their fiancée’s best friend? Who the hell fucks their own best friend’s fiancée? Where’s the damn girl code?

"HAVEN!" My scream rips through the choking smoke, raw and useless. No answer comes back, only the hungry roar of flames and the distant, brutal clash of combat somewhere deeper in the haze. The smoke isn't normal. It's thick, oily, purple-black instead of honest grey. It tastes like sulfur and rot on my tongue. Dark magic. The kind that burns hotter, meaner, and clings to skin like poison. Donovan's hand clamps around my forearm, iron-hard.

BOOK 1: THE SHEPHERD'S SIN SYNOPSIS: "Some sins are too delicious to confess. Enter at your own risk. Once you cross the line, there is no going back.” Step into a world where the lines between pleasure and pain are blurred, and the word 'forbidden' is merely an invitation. The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire.

Expect: ❄️ hockey rivalry 🐺 possessive alpha energy 🖤 forced proximity ❄️ locker room tension 🐺 secrets that can ruin everything 🖤 emotional damage ❄️ hate that slowly turns into something much more dangerous 🌶️Spicy smut Noel thought hiding the truth would keep him safe. He was wrong. please note, it's a slow burn romance but I promise it will worth your time and of course good smut🌶️🌶️🌶️ Leave a comment if you're ready to get marked on ice🧊

SINNER’S PRAYER (G×G) EVELYN HARPER & LUCIA VALDEZ EVE I have always known I was damned. Every Sunday I sit in the same pew, third from the back on the left, fingers worrying the rosary beads in my lap while Father Michael speaks of mortal sin and the fires that wait for the unrepentant. I nod along, my lips moving silently through the responses, but my mind is elsewhere. My gaze drifts to the stained-glass windows, to the painted lips of the female saints—lips I have imagined pressed against my own in the dark of my bedroom while I touch myself and then cry into my pillow afterward.

Chapter 3: Sacrilegious Surrender The weight of our escalating sins pressed upon me like the stone walls of the convent, unyielding and cold. Each dawn brought the tolling bells, calling us to prayer, but my devotions had twisted into something profane. From the pulpit, I spoke of redemption, yet my gaze lingered on Elena during mass, her form shrouded in black but her posture betraying the subtle shifts—thighs pressing together, cheeks heating under the veil. She was unraveling, her faith fracturing under the onslaught of desire, and I reveled in it. The priest in me recoiled, whispering of damnation, but the man—the dominant force she'd awakened—yearned to push further, to bind her not jus

“I’ll be back. Need some air.” She raised a brow. “Air or nicotine?” His lips quirked. “You know me too well.” She let out a soft sigh, a mixture of concern and resignation. “You don’t have to leave, Ahaan. I don’t mind. At this point, I think I’ve become habituated to the smell of smoke as part of your aura.” He paused, his hand on the doorknob. She continued, “I got used to you smoking around me in the set you know. I can live with it.”

Stacy couldn't take anymore and she laid hard on the bed right beside Emerald. Kevin laughed hard, “tapping out already?” The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet. Kevin lit his own cigarette and closed his eyes. Emerald and Stacy's eyes met, Emerald took a slow drag, then turned to Stacy and exhaled softly inside her mouth. Stacy coughed, eyes watering but she didn't pull away. Emerald stubbed the cigarette out and rose to the bed, signaling Stacy, she mirrored her, heart hammering. Their kids started gently. Lips brushing and tasting. Then Emerald deepened it, tongue sliding in, tasting smoke and desire. Stacy moaned quietly.