Spicy Sinclair Novels & Stories

She sucked obediently, her tongue swirling as Diesel continued pounding her pussy from below. Jax swapped with Diesel, his scar-twisted face contorted in lust. “Gonna make you squirt on my dick.” He fingered her clit roughly while fucking her, his thumb pressing hard. Sable’s body tensed, then exploded, squirting in arcs over his abs. He laughed, not stopping, driving her through wave after wave until she was shaking uncontrollably, her legs jelly.

Paetyn’s POV I’ve grown to despise this city. Where I used to find joy in the small things, like the hustle of people rushing by, the scent of street cart hotdogs, and the anonymity of being among thousands of people who don’t know my name or story, now I can’t stand it. The people have become too much to handle, setting my nerves on edge, and the stench of hotdogs and mustard makes my stomach twist painfully. And I’m no longer entirely invisible after the scandal with Liam. It doesn’t help that I’ve been desperate to stay under the radar so my ex-boyfriend doesn’t find me.

Brian Sinclair, the renowned guitarist. Brian “Master” Sinclair, guitar hero, rock god, perfect specimen of a man, was passed out in her hotel room! He’d kissed her. God, how he’d kissed her. If she didn’t have rules about when she allowed herself to have sex with a new acquaintance, he’d probably be making love to her right now. She seriously needed to amend her rules. Her body ached with wanting him. The man was too sexy for his own good.

He knew how to turn hinges. He found who he was looking for on the balcony: Spencer Wren, one of the last old-guard investors in Sinclair’s original entertainment division. A man who’d stayed quiet during the Veronica fallout, watching the tide. “Evening,” Morgan said easily. Spencer turned, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t think I’d see you in a place like this.” Morgan smiled, patient and wolfish. “Places and people change. Sinclair’s heading for an identity crisis. I just want to help stabilize it.”

He continues, gesturing to my midsection. Sinclair continues to vent, getting louder and louder with every word. “I hate everything that led us to this place. I hate having to sit by and do nothing, because war takes time. I’m thinking I should have stayed and fought, even if there was no chance of winning. I’m thinking I’m a traitor for abandoning my people.” He pauses, looking so feral I honestly feel a little afraid. “And I’m thinking that if Damon were in front of me now I would rip off his manhood, then rip off his fingers and toes one at a time. And I’d keep going that way until he was just a headless torso, but I’d keep him alive for as long as possible to maximize his suffering.”

he whispered. He leaned down and started to eat the toppings right off my skin. His tongue was hot and rough, licking away the salty oil and the spicy heat of the pepperoni. He moved lower, his mouth following the trail of grease down to my inner thighs. The mix of the warm food and his wet mouth was driving me crazy. He was using his tongue like a weapon, licking me clean with slow, heavy strokes that made me arch my back and cry out.

[Sinclair: I need him to think I’m loyal to him, so when I ‘die’, he believes it was an accident. [Adrian: I see. How do you plan to make him believe your loyalty?] [Sinclair: Um…I’m going to agree to be his Luna.] [Adrian: NO!] [Sinclair: Hear me out. I’m not going to cross any lines. But he may kiss me, and I will need to let that happen.] [Adrian: FUCK NO! MINE!] [Sinclair: Always yours. This is only to make him trust me wholeheartedly. When I ‘die’, he will be too devastated to act immediately.]

Sinclair said as I hissed. "And what would you gain from that ? I asked. "Payback for ruining my reputation. Now that the bastard is death I have a chance in winning this election." Sinclair said admitting he could never win without playing dirty. "I didn't do anything, you were the dick that held me at gunpoint, all you got was backlash." I yelled but at this point I was just wasting my breath. "If not for your blood money you'd be in jail right now." I said.

Inset speakers hum Sinatra low, like the suite has its own heartbeat. I whirl, dizzy on opulence. Teddy just strolls in, hands in pockets, faint smile on his lips—like he’s seen bigger, brighter. Of course he has. “You’re not gawking,” I tease. He shrugs, stepping close to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “Takes more than gold faucets to impress me these days.” “Yeah?” I tip my chin. “What does impress you, Mr. Sinclair?” He leans in, eyes warm cedar, voice a whisper meant for walls thick and secret. “The girl who booked a penthouse just to make sure her ‘summer fling’ turned birthday legend.”

Adrian puts an arm over Sinclair and smiles at me, “Sinclair here used to be a hitman. Didn’t she tell you?” “A hitman?” Adrian squeezes Sinclair’s shoulder tighter. She cocks her gun and puts it against his dick. “Remove your hand from me now, Adrian.” He starts laughing and raises his hands in surrender. “You know your gun is empty now, Sinclair.” She raised an eyebrow, pulled the trigger, and shot a round at his feet, making him jump. “Not even close to being empty, Adrian.” He smiled and shook his head. “Damn, Sinclair! I knew I liked you. You’re vicious.”