Tempting Devil Novels & Stories

Two more breaths were heard, but the devil was not interested, his whole body and eyes only on Isabella. He knew he loathed humans, but this girl's invitation was fucking tempting. A human could lure a devil was impossible, but the way the devil was drawn toward Isabella could make someone think twice. "My prey," the devil's voice growled and his nail was about to touch his prey's cheeks when the devil's nose smelled an inhuman smell, and he was well aware of it. His eyes fell on the same dress Isabella has wore in the morning which was on the table near the bed. His hand reached to the dress and brought it near his nose and at that time his horn emerged on his head while his hand burned tha

"I keep my eyes on those I trust the most. Now tell me, where is the pen drive?" “I don't have the pen drive,” gasped the man, struggling to breathe. David sneered. “Oh, really? You're not very convincing, Parker.” With a swift motion, he punched the man in the face, causing blood to gush from his nose. Parker winced. “I swear, I don't have it,” he pleaded. David's eyes blazed with fury. “You think you can lie to me? I'm the Devil. Tell me where it is.”

I closed my eyes, shut my mind from thinking anything, and started counting in my heart to distract myself from the devil's closeness. "It's getting cold," The devil whispered into my ear after a while and I trembled from the slight touch of his lips rubbing on my earlobe. I immediately opened my eyes, flushed completely, and when I saw that devilish smirk on his face. I felt like digging a hole and hiding inside it. How could I be so idiot? He isn't the one in s*x more than I am... Why do I always keep thinking about s*x with him even when I know he is a devil and a dangerous creature?

’ Inner Devil 2: ‘He’s the fantasy starter pack: filthy mouth, perfect abs, loyal heart, and the kind of possessiveness that makes you feel safe and scandalous all at once. Inner Devil 1: ‘His mouth isn’t even that filthy. It’s… poetic.’ Inner Devil 2: ‘Okay. Poetic filthy, then.’

The Devil found himself wanting something he couldn't simply buy. Someone.

“Ancient devil?” “Absolutely, they are the devil race that already exists even when the first man is exist on this earth.” Abelard pupils enlarge. The dimness in his eyes started to light up. His heart beat faster. For a moment, he looks at Aimer and turns his gaze back to Aahva. His face looked warmer than before, which looked dark and cold. "Continue, tell me evertything!”

His frame towering over her. She lowered her gaze, unable to stand those alluring eyes of his. He placed a finger beneath her chin, lifting her head and her gaze to meet with his. "Too late. You signed. You're mine little dove," Scott said, his deep voice low and menacing.

He smiles as he takes my helmet from Kylie and grabs my gloved fingers pulling the fabric off. “You mean unhinged. You just need to pay more attention.” It is not the first time I notice how handsome he is. The devil with an angels face. Too bad I have nothing more left in me to give to Killer. As I stare at his retreating form, I KNOW that it doesn't matter. A devil doesn't want your love, hatred or anyone of those things that get you hurt. No, the devil wants your soul and all your desires. The devil wants to own you until you can only see the fire that burns in his gaze.

I tapped the glass against the wooden counter harshly and at the brittleness of my attitude, he moved his ass and poured me a drink. I had couple more of them. It was supposed to get my mind off her but it has a reverse impact on my head instead. Her moans, the sight of her parted lips and ecstasy covered face, the beads of sweat shining onto her forehead and body while the blush that spread from her cheeks to her boobs with my thrusts, was the most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. She is a temptress, an epitome of sexiness and she has the power to bring desire out of anyone.

Only the foolish make deals with the devil. Only the ones drowning in pride… or pain. Because the devil doesn’t barter. He doesn’t wait at crossroads. He doesn’t ask for permission. He takes. He does not knock—he kicks down the door. He does not beg—he commands. He does not love—he consumes. He wraps his hunger in charm, his cruelty in confidence, his madness in tailored suits and cold, perfect smiles. And once you catch his eye, it’s already too late.