Tempted Ink Novels & Stories

My voice cracked. He hummed against me, the vibration making my hips jerk. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, then sucked my clit between his lips, gentle but insistent. One hand slid up my thigh, two fingers easing inside me only when I was already dripping down his chin. He curled them slowly, stroking that spot inside me while his tongue worked my clit in lazy circles. I came with a soft, broken cry, thighs trembling around his head, one hand braced on the glass behind me. He kept licking me through it, drawing it out until I was whimpering.

The soon-to-be family of five talked more about the baby and the girls were very excited to know that they would be traveling the next day to celebrate the existence of their baby sibling. The End! Thank you all for reading TEMPTRESS! I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope to see you in my new story but for the meantime, please feel free to check out my other stories on this app. Thank you!

With his six-pack abs on display, Amelia forgot to breathe, let alone look away. “Orange juice?” he raised an eyebrow at her dazed state. Dumb guy! Didn’t he know the effect his semi-nu*ity was having on her? Or maybe it was deliberate! Maybe he wanted her to drool over the tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. She wondered what the rest of the tattoo would look like! The urge to run her tongue over the entire length of it drove her crazy. Was that what he was aiming at? “Emilia!” His voice, laced with amusement, brought her out of her embarrassing thoughts.

So when my best friend told me her tattoo shop was running a discount, I jumped at it. Lena: Girl, 40% off today only. My boss is running it. Come get that ass ink you’ve been talking about. Private room and everything. I was already out the door before I could talk myself out of it. Ink & Sin was tucked into a dimly lit corner of the city, the kind of place that screamed trouble in the best way. Blacked-out windows, blood-red neon sign, and the low thump of heavy music vibrating through the walls. My heart hammered as I pushed open the door. The scent of antiseptic, leather, and something darker, maybe testosterone, hit me instantly.

He was most definitely not a fan, but she’d take it as a challenge to convert him. A last-minute detour into a bookstore had Sienna realizing just how long it had been since she’d read anything for pleasure and, making up for lost time and with Monty’s en-couragement and contributions, she ended up with a selection of mysteries, romances and the latest Stephen King thriller. “You’re adding these to my expense sheet, right?” Her teasing smile faded at his guarded expression. “What? What’s wrong?” “You might want to rethink getting another cell phone.” He moved to block her view of the periodicals stand.

She had never seen the book in her life. "I don't—" But Maeven stopped her with an upraised hand. I see," she said. "Ink in this book is a ritual for temple rituals. It's only something a high-ranking witch would be allowed to use. The same ink that disappeared three nights before." The onlookers started murmuring. Mark and Lark exchanged glances across the yard. Maeven slowly turned the book over, presenting the eyes gathered there to rest upon the heavy ceremonial ink and jagged markings within.

“Be careful what you’re suggesting.” “I’m not suggesting,” she whispered, leaning closer. “I’m asking. Is this really just about ink on a page? Or do I have something worth bargaining with?” The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could touch the documents. His grip was firm but not cruel, his eyes burning into hers with a mix of warning and want. “Emma.” Her name came out rough, almost guttural this time. “This isn’t—” He broke off, his breath unsteady. His gaze betrayed him, dropping again to the loose neckline of her robe.

Random letters typed themselves across my tits in real time, the smudged ink ribbon dragging black streaks over pale flesh, marking my nipples, my cleavage, my collarbone with gibberish that looked like ecstatic code. He fucked me harder. Faster. The mechanical clacking grew frantic matching the wet slap of his balls against my ass, the obscene squelch of my cunt clenching on nothing. Ink smeared everywhere: across my breasts, dripping down my sides, staining the desk. My body became the page.

I said. "Truth is a luxury, Kaima," Smith said, his voice turning cold. "And the Aethel-Group is out of the luxury business. We are in the 'Survival Business.' The Earth outside this Preserve is a scorched rock. This is all that's left. Now, be a good girl and hand over that bottle. It’s corporate property." --- ### The Weight of the Ink I looked at the bottle. The "Unlimited Ink" wasn't liquid. It was a swirling vortex of every color I had ever seen—and some I hadn't. It felt heavy, like it held the weight of a billion possible stories.

Prisca didn't need anyone to tell her that her life has been screwed hard, so she prayed silently that SK should not kick her out of his record label. She arrived at the SK house. She got none of those warm receptions she used to get before. She ignored the peering eyes and walked briskly to S.K.'s office with her heart in her hands. "Good afternoon boss," she greeted as she closed the door behind her. SK did not reply to her greetings, he just made a gesture for her to take her seat which was a very bad sign for her. As soon as she sat down, he leaned forward with a stern face and said, "I got a call from Tufiq cosmetics early this morning, they told me that they won't be making any endorse