Page 7 of His Sinner

Saint rubs at my sensitive nub, making my sore pussy throb, but the pleasure makes his cock slide in and out of my tight walls with greater ease.

My ass squeaks against the table and my tits bounce with every hard thrust. He slaps one, making me yelp as my skin reddens. I’m not sure what I’ve unleashed to make him so rough with me, but I fucking love it.

In my peripheral vision, I catch a flash of movement. Saint’s thumb on my clit and his cock in my pussy drive pleasure up all the way to the tip of my scalp, and the ecstasy nearly blinds me to what’s lingering in the darkness outside the window.

Who.

A face hidden in the shadows of the night. But their hand rests against the glass.

My heart stops.

“Someone’s outside the window!”

Saint shoves his mask up and pinches my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my eyes to lock on his blazing, coal-black gaze as he continues fucking me. “There is no one else in existence when I’m inside you.”

He’s crazy. We need to stop. “But what if?—”

“I don’t give a fuck if the entire nation is standing outside that window watching us,” he growls. “They don’t exist. Nothing else exists right now except you and me. You’re my whole world now, muse, and I’m yours.”

CHAPTER FOUR

SAINT

Every time Briar’s attention starts to drift to the window while I slam my cock inside her, I wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze. “Eyes on me, muse.”

No one is outside this manor. I own the whole fucking mountain, and it’s the middle of winter in Maine. No one is going for a hike up here.

Or perhaps she really did see what she thinks—a lost hiker searching for refuge. And now I suppose they’re getting a show.

I don’t give a fuck. They can watch my glistening cock drive inside her tight pussy over and over. They can listen to her moans and wails as she takes every hard inch, clenching and spasming each time I hit that sweet spot deep inside her. They can jerk off to us fucking on the dining room table for all I care. As long as she remembers that nothing outside this room matters when I’m inside her. The house could be burning down around us and I wouldn’t stop fucking her until she came on my cock.

I overheard her on the phone. Heard her say she’s not in love with me. Spitting out the words like the idea of loving me repulses her. But I know her well enough by now to understand she’s in denial. If she wasn’t falling in love with me, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t have let me fuck her after I taped her wrists and ankles together, she wouldn’t have let me whisk her away to my secluded manor, and she wouldn’t be on this table with her legs spread wide, allowing my dick to split her pussy in two.

But I’m still proving myself to her. Still proving my worth. That she will fall in love with me someday. That she will be mine forever.

“Agh! Saint!” she moans, nails biting into my triceps.

I keep my mask off, needing her to see how my eyes bore into her all the way to her soul. How my gaze doesn’t ever drift from her. From her writhing, glorious, naked body in front of me. To the tits that bounce wildly with every hard, punishing thrust. To the bottom lip, swollen and red from where she bites it in between moans. To the lust-filled blue eyes that roll and flutter shut before springing open through the waves of pleasure.

Her body is the instrument that only I can play.

When her pussy starts to clench on my cock, my name about to leave her lips on a cry, I pump fast into her, chasing both of our orgasms.

“Saint!” she wails.

She screams out for me, not for a god. She may be my muse, but I am her deity.

I keep thrusting inside her as her pussy pulses around me and hot cum shoots from my cock, making my eyes roll. My thrusts are shallow now, but just as hard, her cries of ecstasy the soundtrack to my greatest pleasure.

Sweat coats the back of my neck, heart pounding against my ribcage. Fuck. Nothing is sweeter than her.

We pant against each other, coming down from the pinnacle of ecstasy. As soon as I slide out of her and release my hold on her neck, she gasps, legs collapsing to the table and fingers brushing her throat. “I swear to god if you left fingerprints on my neck, they better be gone before I go back home.”

At some point, I’ll inform her I have no intention of returning her, but it’s too soon to broach the subject. Not until she’s falling to her knees, begging to never be parted from me.

She tugs her clothes back in place before diverting her gaze to the same window that distracted her earlier. “Do you have a Peeping Tom neighbor or something?”

“I don’t have neighbors. No one else lives on my mountain.”

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