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MY SINFUL LUST  Novel Cover

MY SINFUL LUST

Thea was unaware of the danger her innocence invited. Since their first encounter, a merciless ruler of darkness has watched her from the shadows, intent on claiming her soul. When she misbehaves, she is forced to endure cold punishments, fearing the loss of his favor more than the physical pain. He is prepared to destroy the world and damn countless souls for her sake. This pure angel will not resist as the darkest devil marks her forever.
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Chapter 4

I pressed my palms against the cold floor, trying to keep still.

I kept my mouth shut, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something stupid.

My bare backside sat exposed over his lap, waiting for the first blow. I forced myself not to flinch even though my heart beat fast in my chest.

Normally, the Devil wasted no time. He always struck fast, always let the punishment rain down without mercy.

Yet this time, nothing happened. No sharp pain, no angry words. Just silence.

I peeked up from the corner of my eye, confused. His hand rested on my lower back, heavy and warm. I dared not move, but my mind spun fast.

My father loved control. Every punishment was his way of reminding me who had power, who made the rules in this cursed mansion. But now, it felt different. This silence dragged on, stretching the tension until it knotted up inside my belly.

Then I felt it-his hand moved, slow and steady, stroking my skin like he owned every inch of it.

Smack!

His palm dragged across my exposed flesh, smooth and warm, pressing down gently on every curve as if he wanted to memorize me through touch alone.

It shocked me more than any slap ever could. My whole body tensed. I froze, too stunned to react, too confused to speak. His touch carried no rage, no sharp discipline. It was soft... careful... almost teasing.

My breath caught in my throat when his fingers glided along the edge of my hips, tracing slow circles that made my stomach tighten.

He moved up my body, his fingers trailing over my skin like I was his personal possession.

He touched every rib, slow and greedy, dragging his hands down until every inch of me tingled and burned. I hated how much my body begged for him. Every stroke lit up my nerves. Every squeeze made my thighs clench, aching for something more.

He yanked my nightdress up, bunching it at my waist like it got in his way. My chest rose and fell too fast. His knuckles brushed under my ribs and I bit my lip, fighting the needy moan threatening to slip.

Then his fingers went lower, hooking under my lace panties and tugging them up sharply.

The soft fabric pressed right against my swollen clit, teasing the soaked flesh underneath. I stayed still, jaw locked tight, but the heat between my legs grew worse. My pussy throbbed, wet and wanting, ready to be touched, used, ruined.

This wasn't punishment. There were no cruel words, no harsh grip. Only quiet, sinful touches that made my body burn hotter. My breath came out shaky. My legs felt weak. I tried to fight it, but my body wanted more.

His palm cupped my lower back before moving to my bare thighs, fingers gripping my flesh before spreading me apart. The cold air kissed my wet, needy core.

My whole body shivered. He could smell me, feel how ready I was for him, how my pussy dripped just for him.

I should have pulled away. I should have screamed. But all I felt was hunger. A wild, raw need that made my stomach tighten, my heart race, and my pussy throb.

My panties sat halfway down my legs, forgotten. My nipples ached, sensitive as they rubbed against the fabric of my dress. My whole body squirmed under his greedy hands.

Then I heard it.

A low, deep groan rumbling from his chest. My body tensed, soaking in the sound of pure, male hunger.

His strong hands grabbed my waist and pulled me down onto his hard, thick thigh. I gasped as my wet core pressed against his muscles. I felt everything-his power, his desire, his thick cock pressed tight inside his pants.

A moan broke free from my throat, soft and desperate. "Ahh..."

My hips moved on their own, grinding against his thigh, chasing every bit of friction I could steal.

His grip tightened, holding me down, making me feel small, weak, and helpless under him. I could feel how much he wanted me, how hard he was, how much his cock pulsed for me.

His hand slid lower again, fingers exploring my wet pussy, brushing over my swollen clit before slipping through my folds.

My body jerked, needy and eager. My hips rolled shamelessly, rubbing myself all over his thigh, moaning louder, drowning in the pleasure.

I didn't care what this made me. I didn't care if it ruined me. I just wanted more.

Just when I thought I would completely fall apart, a sharp knock cut through the air.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

'Oh shit.'

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