Sweet Sin - S01 E70

Story 7 hours ago

Sweet Sin - S01 E70

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 70

—

[Saint’s Place]

Saint sauntered downstairs, chewing raw cornflakes—a habit he can’t get rid of no matter his attempts.

Just the way he chews raw onions and noodles too.

He carried his helmet under his arm while pressing his phone with the other hand, going through his night schedule. He’s gonna go see Tobias, he’s gonna go see Tino in the hospital. Also, he’s gonna find Bexley.

He’s aware that Dora got her, but he didn’t give a fûck about whatever Dora might do to her.

But it’s been days, Bexley has been nowhere around his eyes.

His stalking tools aren’t even reaching her, and he just knew Dora probably went extreme on her.

That idiot.

He pocketed his phone and opened the door to step out, but he was surprised to meet Tino by the door.

“Yo, bro!” Saint sounded.

Tino enwrapped his arms on him, seizing Saint in a tight hug which seized Saint’s breaths along with it.

“Hey….” He patted Tino’s back. “You’re supposed to still be at the hospital.”

“I insisted on discharge, got bored. I won’t be able to race with my arm yet, but I can watch you race.” Tino broke the hug with a cute smile.

“You didn’t eat bad at the hospital, did you?” Saint frowned. “You’re talking weird. Watch me race?”

“C’mon! Races resume tonight. Asphalt Kings will go hard again.” Tino’s gaze continued lifting.

“Yeah, but I gotta look for Bexley first. Dora got her bad, and to get Bexley, I need to visit Dora.”

“Wait…” Tino’s expression fell. “You’re… you’re worried about Bex….

“It’s late, Tino. I need to move before Dora leaves her stupid Fashion Clan.” Saint cut in sleekly.

He led the way to his bike.

Tino stood there for a while before deciding fo follow.

—

[Valhalla Club]

Xero worked in his office tonight. A nude-painted large room somewhere in the club grounds with round desk and chairs that don’t swivel.

Swivels are for the world, and the world isn’t here. Here is the underworld where rules are wrung—not even twisted.

He was trying to lit up a cigar when Dyed hair came in with a pile of classified documents which he dropped on the desk.

“They’re the compiled names of families Wrath will be laundering money for once he leaves the Church. I haven’t been able to guess the days he’ll be moving money to his safe houses, but one thing’s for sure; the money will need to be moved to his safehouse cos his Empire is still in the hands of Dean. He won’t be able to use it as his laundering establishment for now.” He explained.

“And that’s why he must never get that Empire back. That’s why Dean has to come here. With Dean here, we have a hold on that Empire too.” Xero claimed. “How’s Dean doing?”

“He’s having a hard time choosing his killing sin between his brother Saint, and his fiancee Kelly,” Dyed hair responded instantly.

Xero reclined, finally firing up his cigar. “Of course, that’s the hardest part for everyone. Isn’t that part the reason Genevieve and Marley hate their second daughter till now?”

“But Dean is different. We need him here as soon as possible.” Dyed hair remarked, serious.

“I know. He’s gonna be receiving an ultimatum. He has one week to commit the sins and get his arse here. Prepare a letter.” Xero ordered.

Dyed hair stepped back.

“And where the hell is Teeth? Haven’t seen him since a minute.” Xero suddenly asked.

Dyed hair paused, looking back.

Knowing Teeth, that wanker obviously went to the hospital to off some of the recovering church members like he promised, but he’s not gonna snitch on him.

“He got some business to take care of, probably.” He responded.

And Frontman barged in, looking slightly disturbed.

“Yes?” Xero lifted his brows.

“You need to see this, Leader.” Frontman said, seriously.

Xero followed him out.

Getting to the backdoor, they met Bexley crawling in, looking like she fell from hell with the scattered burn marks on her skin.

Marks from rods extracted from fire. Deep, painful marks. They look fresh as they’re still bleeding. Some are bleeding clear liquid instead of blood.

“A Delilah?” Xero pointed his cigar at her. “It’s the best one.”

“Yeah, that’s Bexley.” Frontman said.

“Well, shit, this is fucked up.” Dyed hair muttered.

“It’s Dora,” Bexley managed to speak, tears accompanying her words. “Dora Redd. Daughter of Billionaire Genevieve and Billionaire Marley. She did this to me.” She sniffled.

“Get a call through to the Billionaires for a meeting tonight. Genevieve and Marley are to arrive earlier, and meet in my office.” Xero commanded.

“I got you, Leader.” Frontman said.

—

[Savior’s Alive – 8:30PM]

Seraphina arrived thirty minutes late. Not because of the rain, but because she wants to tease him.

She parked her car at the dry park, wondering why it’s so silent. Every other building door is closed except the Church. Are the workers fasting again tonight? No one’s out.

She held her umbrella over her head, then picked a knitted bracelet out of her car drawer and pocketed it.

She had made it for him. Not sure if he’d take it though.

The rain thrummed hard over her umbrella as she walked towards the Church with her phone in her other hand. On the phone, she stared at the last part of the mail he sent her.

For the last six days, she got herself busy with the notes at every chance she got. In the bathroom, washroom, dinning, kitchen, car, outside.

Everywhere.

She reads everywhere, and she’d have been done with it by now, but her crochets took her time too.

She packed her second and third orders and delivered them already. Now, she’s working on the fourth orders, and the orders kept expanding beyond her capacity.

Now, she’s going to be needing a crocheting machine soon. One she would be able to program according to how she wants it to crochet her patterns and designs.

Also, she needs a rest badly. She needs something to take her mind of working and reading for a moment.

Maybe him would be the right answer, cos in-between her crocheting and reading, he hit her mind a number of times.

It’s been a whole six days since she last saw him, and that should push her to at least arrive before time and see him, but she likes this teasing.

For arriving thirty minutes late, he’s definitely gonna do something.

It’s not weird if that anticipation is making her wet, right?

Or is it the rain? Must be the rain.

The rain is so heavy, and it’s winding too she had to hold her umbrella tight. Even her fur heels are wet.

The wind already threw the Church door close slightly, so she pushed it open and set her wet umbrella down. She threw her wet heels off too.

Facing forward, she saw what she wasn’t expecting.

Black candles.

A black candle path from the middle of the aisle to the alter.

She looked around the Church. No other light is on except the burning candles—the angry yellow flames,

She got on the path, fearlessly. She walked, step by each slow step.

The water on her foot left footprints on the black marble, and the heat from the candles reached her skin, a contrast to the devouring cold from the rain pouring outside.

She might be in a Church, but she felt darkness swallowing her deeper, sucking her into carnage the further she walked. She let herself go.

She let herself drown.

Beside the eighth candle, she saw a word written boldly on the marble floor with the thick candle wax.

SKIRT.

It was so clear, and hell, she understood immediately.

Her soul is too far tainted.

She pulled off her short jean skirt, slowly, tugging at the denim till the material fell to her ankles.

She stepped out of it.

Now, left in her net panty and her tie-up top, she moved again, proceeding in the candle path of destruction, laid for her.

Her laps rubbed each time she took every step, creating friction she couldn’t even fight as she anticipated what would come next.

The rain is heavier now, but the wind is calmer. It’s breezy, and colder.

She met the second word beside the eleventh candle.

TOP.

She yanked away her top easily, flipping it to the floor.

In her bra and panty, she moved, like a sinner hungry for more sin.

A hellion thirsty for hell-rot.

She felt cold, but at the same time warm from the burn of the candles. From the heat of the flames.

The marbles are cold, sending tingles to her brain, and her chest, hardening her n1pples and navel.

Yeah, her navel hardened, too. Even her lips went cold.

And that’s when she knew whatever was coming, it’ll be darker than midnight.

When she got to BRA, she didn’t take off her bra by unhooking or boring unclasping.

She pulled off the straps, tossed them apart, then tore the net cups off.

The material want flying over the flames, leaving her bre@sts to bounce free, n1pple so darkly pointed on top of the motherfuckers.

So tempting. A devilish device.

They streamed on her chest as she took the steps to PANTIES.

She slid the net down her arse, and it got hooked in the middle of her fat ass, prompting her to shred it.

She shredded the panty, too, throwing it back to meet the pieces of the bra where it lay.

Her own dampness scared her.

How?

She only just walked in the middle of black candles and took off her clothes one by one. How did that get her wet? Unless she’s a darkling herself who loves being dominated.

Who loves being corrupted.

As she walked the remaining steps to the altar, she could feel the stickiness between her thighs.

She felt the gumming.

The soaked sensations.

The drips down there.

It wasn’t just raining outside, it’s raining under her, too.

She didn’t only wax her bodily hair, she also personally waxed her p$ssy too, leaving it clean-shaven again.

She could feel the way her cl1t opened and closed. The way the pink flesh kissed, the way the heat and warmth communicated, the way her arse clapped behind, the way her juices leaked, the way her stomach clenched, and her p$ssy tightened, craving, hungry, starving for something,

For food,

For penetration.

The rain beating the roof didn’t help matters. She felt hypothermic, but also a bit crazy like someone who wants to die on the sickness.

She felt feverish, too, but madness joined the play when she saw him.

He stood there, on the alter, unclad.

Yeah, naked, too, as the day he was born. He’s beautifully naked.

As she’s seeing it for the first time, she halted before she knew it.

Jesus fuckin…. Christ.

He’s….he’s perfect.

That body, it’s too perfect.

How could he…. cover that up.

She felt thirsty in her throat, trying to count the length of his V line and wrap her head around the smoothness of his packs and body.

He’s madly intoxicating. That body should be illegal, and it’s unfair.

“Yeah, like that…” His voice broke through her stare. “Look at me with rever like I’m your Gawd, cos I am.”

Seraphina’s eating eyes snapped up, meeting his on that alter like a fucking undeserving entity.

“Go down like the filthy sinner that you are, and beg your Gawd for lateness….with your mouth.” He continued, laying on the marble for her, baring himself more than before, upping her crazie.

Seraphina went down, coming over his body. She didn’t wait for more orders. She knew she wanted this too, and she went straight for it.

With her lips.

She kissed his shoulders, starting from there, down his body, placing her lips on every space available.

She closed her mouth around his n1pples, sucking them before going down. She didn’t only kiss with her hips, she rubbed his skin with her hair too, and caressed with her small soft palms. Every strip of skin, every bulge of muscle, every slice of packs, every swell of abs and flesh.

Tobias let her do her worshiping till her waistline before flipping them, then he started his part.

He didn’t kiss. He licked.

He licked her, n1pples, whole breasts, tummy, hips, navel, waist. Every slope, every bulge, every inch of her skin, down to her toes.

He licked her toes, too.

Her damn wet toes.

“Damn…Father. Father…” She chanted, unable to contain the feelings, the sensations, the way her body responded, the way her pussy watered, the way her head blanked, the way her eyes blurred, the way her skin warmed up despite the rain pouring ruthlessly outside.

The moment his mouth touched her toes, she went lost.

She doesn’t even know how to feel. How to contain what’s threatening to break inside of her.

“Fûck….” She slipped his arms around him, touching his back dimples.

Her second hand wrapped around his rosary, twisting it and choking his throat with it. Tobias chuckled, slowing down on her body.

“Pull harder,” he ordered.

And she did.

She twisted the rosary more, interlocking the black beads, intensifying the choking. His neck reddened in lines, but his insanity heightened, brimming.

“Harder, and spit in my mouth,” he opened his mouth slightly.

Seraphina tilted, bringing her lips closer, but it never met his vile lips till she spat in his mouth.

He kissed her bre@sts with the spit, nastily, vulgarly.

She pulled the rosary again, tight around his airway.

His throat throbbed.

He went insane, getting high on this unrestrained, dirty fetish.

“Now, Sera….” He rasped. “With your second hand, take my cóvk, and insert it into your crying p$ssy.”

TBC.