Page 16 of His Sinner

The bastard drugged me. Of course a stalker would consider this a twisted form of self-defense training. “Like that will do me any good when you have me tied down.”

He trails the barrel of the pistol across my heaving chest. “You’re still allowing your fear to control you. Control your fear, Briar. Own your body. Your mind. You are your biggest obstacle.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, even though I’m already blindfolded, and force a deep breath through my nose and out of my mouth.

“Good. Now focus on your muscles while you breathe. Relax each group of muscles, concentrate on alleviating the tension. Bend them to your will.”

I do as he instructs, forcing my shoulders to relax. The tension slowly slips away as I keep drawing in deep breaths. I try to ignore the barrel of the gun slipping down between my breasts and the handle of the knife returning to caress my cheek as my mind concentrates on relaxing the tight muscles in my back, arms, hands, legs.

“You are doing so well, muse.”

His praise makes my heart flutter. Admittedly, so does the gun tracing my inner thighs.

My pulse starts to pick up speed again when the fear mixes with excitement. “Saint?—”

“Shh.” He presses the flat edge of the knife to my lips, effectively silencing me.

Behind my blindfold, my eyes spring open and my stomach turns, a new layer of sweat pricking up along my neck and back.

His mask brushes my cheek, and I shiver. “Let’s see how badly you want me to use my weapons to make you come.”

“I don’t.” The terror builds. I don’t know how the fuck he could give me pleasure with a knife or a gun, and I don’t want to find out. All I know is that gun is loaded and that knife is very, very sharp.

“I think you do,” he purrs. Cool, hard metal brushes against my pussy, and I hiss through my teeth, jerking my hips back in an attempt to get away, but there’s no escaping Saint de Haas.

He rubs the barrel of the gun against my pussy again, harder this time, and dips the barrel between my folds. Just enough to drag the proof of my arousal up to my pelvis. “Now I know you do.”

Goosebumps race down my arms at his low, seductive drawl. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

But we both know I’ll never convince either of us that everything he does isn’t arousing to me. That every brush of his skin against mine doesn’t set me on fire in the best possible way.

God, I wish he would remove this fucking blindfold so I could see him. His lithe, toned body towering over me. The muscles in his back and arms rippling with every movement. The mask on his face concealing the dancing, onyx eyes and the delighted smirk. My mouth waters, and I long to break free of the restraints at my wrists just so I can touch him. Admire the lethal power coursing beneath the surface of every inch of taut skin.

“Are you ready to come for me, sinner?”

I swallow. Sinner. I’m his muse, his captive, and now, his sinner. “I’m ready for you to take my blindfold off.”

“Ah, but that’s half the fun. Not knowing when the next touch will come.” The knife brushes against my arm, sending tingles to my fingertips. “Or where.” The barrel of the gun brushes against my clit, and I cry out.

The tip of his knife circles around each of my breasts, making every hair on my body stand on end. I can’t think about anything else, can’t control the reaction my body is having while he plays me like a violin. Each new string he plucks elicits a different pitch from my mouth.

The barrel of the gun presses against my lips. “Suck.”

“Remove the blindfold and I will.”

“You know better than to disobey me.” He presses the gun against my mouth harder, clacking against my teeth and wrenching my jaw open.

The metallic taste brushes against my tongue as he thrusts the barrel into my mouth over and over. I gurgle when he pushes it too far and finally pops the gun out of my mouth, a trail of saliva hitting my bare chest. My jaw already aches.

“That’s my good girl.”

The warmth of his presence leaning over me disappears, and I panic, not knowing what he’s going to do next.

Until a cool kiss of air brushes against my pussy.

I gasp, and he continues blowing on me while resting the gun and knife on my thigh. Part of me wants him to use his mouth. Another part of me—a part that must still be delirious from the sedative he gave me—wants him to use that gun and knife.

He kisses my clit and flicks it with his tongue, making me writhe until he replaces his mouth with the handle of the knife. The end presses against my clit, and he wiggles it slowly back and forth, drawing a low moan from my throat.

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