Page 27 of Darkest Sin

I freeze, waiting for him to bitch me out, but he doesn’t say a word as his eyes remain locked on me. If he didn’t want my touch, he’s the type of man to throw me out of here so damn fast, I’d never see it coming. The fact that he hasn’t stopped me suggests he’s down to see where this goes.

So, I do what any other insane girl would do and trail my hand down his body, holding my breath as I sail over the tight ridges of his abs until my hand closes around his thick cock.

I gently stroke him, my fingers roaming over his velvety skin, and not a moment later, he’s rock-fucking-hard. I lick my lips, excitement drumming through my veins. Taking every ounce of determination I possess, I straddle his hips and lower myself onto his cock.

I suck in a breath through my teeth, hissing as he stretches me wider than ever. He feels so deep at this angle that it’s almost painful, but I’m not about to bitch out. He keeps one hand propped behind his head, and his other comes up to rest on my hip.

His hand is so big and strong across my body that he could throw me off him without even trying. But he doesn’t. He just watches me, keeping those dark eyes locked on mine. The tension and electricity grow between us until I finally start to move, and that tension morphs into undeniable pleasure.

I rock my hips, taking him deep, grinding and moving over him. I take every bit of pleasure from him, and when his other hand comes to my hip and tries to raise me up to take control, I smack his hand away. “No,” I growl, letting him hear the authority in my tone. “You’ve had your chance to fuck me the way you please, and now it’s my turn. Either lay back and take it, or I’ll leave you high and dry. Take your pick, bossman.”

He just stares at me, and as my heart races, I do what I can to mask my fear.

What the hell was I thinking? I’m done for.

He’s going to curl his hand around my throat and suffocate me with his dick still inside of me. The uncontrollable jolting of my body giving up would probably be enough to get him off.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Not giving him another second to decide on a game plan, I start rocking my hips again. Only this time, I pick up my pace, fucking him just like he did me—with every ounce of control and demanding submission.

He relaxes, and I balance myself against his strong chest. He’s seated so deeply, and I watch as he sucks in a breath, already on the edge. “You’re not gonna come until I do,” I warn him before leaning down, my lips right by his ear. “And when you do, I want to hear my name on your lips. Not Sweet Angel, my name.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and without warning, his hand closes around my throat and pushes me back up until I’m right where I was before. “I told you to forget your name,” he spits through his teeth, so close to the edge. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”

I keep fucking him and his hand tightens around my throat, just as my walls tighten around his cock. My hips roll as I move up and down on his impressive length, driving him wild with need. “I can’t do that,” I rasp, groaning as I feel that familiar burn deep inside of me, desperate for release. “You can take my name, but you can’t change who I am.”

“And who the fuck are you?” he questions, clenching his jaw, determined to see this through. Just as I demanded.

But that accent, holy shit. It’s just enough to throw me right over the edge, and I come hard and fast, my orgasm tearing through me. I cry out, catching myself against his strong chest, gasping for air as I come undone, my pussy convulsing around him. Then looking him dead in the eye, I give it to him straight. “I’m your goddamn equal.”

And with that, he shoots his hot load deep inside my cunt, his gaze locked on mine in disbelief. He doesn’t say a word as he comes, just stares at me unsure. It’s as though for the first time in his life, he’s lost for words.

Certain I’ve managed to prove some kind of point and regain just a fraction of control—or at least tried to—I climb off him. And with that electrifying, intense stare locked on my back, I stride out of his room with his warm cum spreading between my thighs, more determined than ever to see this through.

13

KILLIAN

She’s fucking insane.

My equal? Surely she bumped her head last night because it would be a cold day in hell when anybody in this world could even attempt to stand as my equal. Though I have to give her credit where credit is due, she showed courage this morning. Walking into my room like that and demanding control has seen weaker women dead on the spot. But not her. She’s different. Her boldness excites me, and when she reached beneath the blanket and took charge, I couldn’t wait to see what she would do.

Making my way downstairs, I pass her door and hear the familiar sound of a hair dryer, and it pleases me that she’s the type of woman to have a healthy respect for herself. Every morning she wakes up and takes a shower before spending twenty minutes blow-drying her hair and putting on just a touch of makeup, even if it’s to spend her day snooping around my home. She always puts in an effort, and while she is absolutely gorgeous with her hair in a messy bun and without a shred of makeup, when she does put in that little bit of extra effort, it never fails to blow me away.

She truly is a sweet angel, so fucking beautiful, it’s blinding.

Stopping by the kitchen, I find Krista busily working away, my coffee waiting for me on the corner of the island counter. “Morning, Sir,” Krista says, wiping over the bench. “You’re up early.”

“Yes, I had a bit of an . . . unexpected wake-up call.”

Krista laughs under her breath as though knowing exactly what kind of unexpected wake-up call I had. “I see,” she says, her cheeks flushing. “Then I take it you’ll be needing a protein-filled breakfast to replenish your energy.”

I roll my eyes and drop down at the counter as I sip my coffee. “Comments like that will see your pay docked,” I warn, knowing she’s only teasing. Over these past twelve years with Krista, she’s become one of my true friends. I care for her more than I care to admit, and she knows it, which is exactly how she knows I’d never dock her pay for making jokes at my expense. She’s like the little sister I never had.

Krista laughs to herself as she goes about making me the protein-filled breakfast she joked about.

“She knows who I am,” I murmur, filling the silence.

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