All Chapters of SINNERS: AN HOT COLLECTION : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Elena stepped inside, still in her wedding dress, the white lace now rumpled and stained in places. Her veil was crooked, mascara smeared down her cheeks, lips swollen and glossy. She froze in the doorway, eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene: me—her little sister—completely naked except for the bunched-up dress around my waist, straddling her brand-new husband, bouncing shamelessly on his massive cock while the bed creaked beneath us.Roman didn’t stop.His hands stayed firmly on my hips, guiding me up and down his thick shaft with steady, powerful thrusts from below. The wet slap of our bodies continued without pause, my pussy making obscene, creamy sounds around him as his cum from earlier leaked out around his girth with every bounce.Elena’s mouth fell open. “What the fuck…?”I turned my head to look at her, never slowing my rhythm. A wicked, triumphant smile spread across my lips as I locked eyes with my sister. “Hey, sis,” I panted, voice breathy and dripping with sa

By the time I pulled into the long driveway of Alex and my mother’s sleek modern house, my hands were steady again. Cold. Determined. The front door was unlocked, just as he’d said. I stepped inside quietly, the cool air-conditioned silence wrapping around me like a shroud. Instead of finding him in the kitchen, I followed the soft glow of light down the hallway to his home office.Alex was sitting behind his large oak desk, but he wasn’t working. He had clearly just come home from a long day. His black button-down shirt was open almost to his navel, the fabric parted to reveal the hard, sculpted planes of his chest and the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath his belt. Silver threaded through the dark hair at his temples, and his jaw was shadowed with a day’s worth of stubble. At forty-seven, he looked every inch the powerful ex-military man who ran a private security firm — broad shoulders, thick arms, and the kind of quiet, commanding presence that made the air feel heavier

“It’s yours,” I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist. “My pussy belongs to you, Alex. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”He started moving then — slow, deep thrusts at first, letting me feel every inch as he pulled almost all the way out and sank back in. The couch creaked beneath us with each stroke. Gradually his pace increased, becoming harder, more possessive. One hand wrapped around my throat — not squeezing hard, just holding me in place with gentle pressure while he fucked me.“Look at me while I take you,” he growled, eyes locked on mine. “I want to watch you come on your stepfather’s cock.”The words sent a fresh wave of heat through me. The taboo reality of what we were doing — me, spread open on his office couch, losing my virginity to my mother’s husband — only made everything more intense. My moans grew louder, more desperate, as his cock hit that perfect spot inside me with every thrust.When my orgasm finally crashed over me, it was shattering. My walls clenched rhythmicall

The doors clicked shut with a finality that made my stomach drop. I was alone again in the opulent prison, wrists still cuffed high above my head, naked and exposed under the soft glow of recessed lighting. The fireplace crackled mockingly, casting warm flickers across my skin that did nothing to chase away the chill of dread settling deep in my bones.I yanked at the cuffs again, harder this time, until the leather dug painfully into my wrists. Nothing gave. The chain was solid, bolted deep into the marble wall. My shoulders already ached from the awkward position, and every small movement made my breasts sway, a humiliating reminder of how vulnerable I was. I pressed my thighs together tightly, trying to ignore the lingering echo of Dante’s words.Soon you’ll be begging for my cock.The memory sent an unwanted flush creeping up my neck. I hated him for saying it. Hated myself more for the way my body had reacted— that traitorous tightening low in my belly, the subtle throb between m

I lay face-down on the massive bed, wrists secured to the headboard with soft leather restraints that gave me just enough slack to shift but not enough to escape. The silk sheets felt cool against my overheated skin, but they did nothing to soothe the burning ache across my ass. Every small movement sent fresh reminders of Dante’s palm — sharp, stinging heat that refused to fade.The room was quiet except for the low crackle of the fireplace. I kept my face buried in the pillow, trying to steady my breathing, trying to ignore the confusing storm raging inside me. Anger. Humiliation. And something far worse: a persistent, throbbing wetness between my thighs that made me want to scream.The doors opened softly.I tensed, refusing to look up. Footsteps approached — slow, deliberate. The bed dipped as Dante sat on the edge beside me. I could smell him again: that dark, expensive cologne mixed with the faint scent of whiskey.“Still awake, little bunny?” His voice was low, almost gentle no