Page 62 of The Wages of Sin

His expression instantly hardened. “Don’t talk like that. Not even as a joke.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” I waved the knife in front of me to prove my point.

The muscles along his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. “I already promised I’d never hurt you.”

Sure, but I’d heard plenty of promises in my life: cops promising to work for justice, Hollis promising to love and cherish my sister, my parents promising they’d never turn their backs on me. I’d seen all of those shredded before my eyes.

Why would a promise from Dorian be any different?

“People lie all the time,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s what they actually do that matters…and what you do is kill.”

His eyes snapped to mine, shining with brilliant blue intensity. “Not when I’m with you.”

For the first time since he’d busted through the door, Dorian stepped closer, moving toward me with deliberate, lethal grace. My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse thundering in my ears, as I stumbled back in a desperate attempt to keep some distance between us.

“Stay back!” I shouted, jutting the knife out even further in front of me.

But Dorian didn’t look the least bit intimidated.

He easily sidestepped the trembling blade, wrapping his hand around my wrist. All it took was a small amount of pressure against the tendons and the slightest twist, and the knife instantly fell to the floor.

Dorian didn’t let go of me, though, not even now that I was defenseless.

Instead, he kept his grabbed onto my other wrist as he kept moving forward, shepherding me backward until my back hit the glass wall. Once there, he pinned my hands to the side and locked his eyes with mine.

“This is what I do when I’m with you,” he said before claiming my mouth in a brutally possessive kiss.

I knew I should have turned my face away. I should have struggled—wriggled and writhed and done everything I could to fight against what was happening. But, God help me, I didn’t want to.

The heat of his body pressing against mine, the soft feel of his lips, the electric shivers the swipe of his tongue sent up my spine—it was too much to resist. Despite my better judgment, I found myself kissing him back.

Just as hungrily. Just as desperately.

After nearly a full minute of kissing me senseless, Dorian released his hold on my wrists. With one fluid motion, he undid the button and zipper on my new pants before hooking his thumbs around the waist.

Bending his knees, he followed the jeans down to the floor before quickly slipping them off my ankles. I hissed in a breath as his palm slid up the back of my left calf, raising my leg and hooking it over his bare shoulder. Then he tilted his head back just far enough to look me in the eyes.

“And this is how I make you feel.” His voice rumbled up from between my legs as I shivered in anticipation.

A second later, his mouth surrounded me, his tongue pressed flat against the hard bud of my clit as he lapped at it again and again.

My head fell back against the window. My hands wrapped around his shoulders, my fingers curling tight against his taut skin as pleasure flooded my body,

“Oh God, Dorian. Please,” I cried out as he brought me dangerously close to the edge.

Before I could dive over the crest, he pulled back. I barely recognized the sound of his own zipper falling as he lifted himself back up.

“This is what I do to you,” he growled against my ear. “I make you scream my name. I make you beg for more.”

With my spine still pressed against the glass, he reached down and wrapped his hands around my thighs. Then, seemingly without effort, he lifted me up so that I could curl my legs around his waist.

“I fill you up,” he said before guiding my hips down far enough for my pussy to swallow his cock. “I take you hard.”

True to his word, he started to thrust—each stroke long and deliberate. I bit into my lip, but that didn’t stop the cries of pure ecstasy from slipping out.

And he didn’t stop.

“I make you shake,” he continued. “I make you come.”

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