Page 49 of Sinful Sacrifice

“That wasn’t to scare you,” he says. “I see that you’re clearly uncomfortable with the idea.”

I’ll always be uncomfortable with it. My mother has told me too many horror stories of arranged marriages for me to even think of agreeing to one. The family chooses your spouse, divorces aren’t allowed, and if the husband hurts you in any way, it’s your fault, not theirs.

My mother’s older sister’s husband was a monster, and eventually, she took her own life, seeing it as the only escape from him. When you enter an arranged marriage as a woman, you sign your freedom away.

It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that happen.

I also refuse to give Cernach anything he wants. If he wants a marriage with Damien, I’ll never give that to him.

“Can we talk about something else?” I whisper.

“Yes, after I tell you this,” Damien replies. “We might not have a contract that puts a ring on your finger and marries us, but you’re mine.”

You’re mine.

Two simple words, but they make my heart swoon.

Three Hours Later

I moan when Damien slams my body against the wall, his hand up my dress. He slips my panties off, shoving his fingers inside with no warning.

My heart is racing.

My pulse wild.

My clit throbs for him.

It’s like my body has become completely dependent on this man’s touch.

This time, as if he came prepared, he pulls a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his hard cock. He shoves my dress aside, squats, and pushes inside me. My head bangs against the wall every time he thrusts inside me.

This man makes me feel good all the time, every time.

I went into this thinking it was a fling.

My time with the bad boy.

But this organ inside my chest is beginning to open up to him.

And I’m worried he’ll rip it apart.

16

“I’d like to offer a suggestion,” Damien says, barging into my apartment.

Last night was amazing. After he fucked me against the wall, he fucked me in my bed, then fucked me again in the shower. Nothing has ever felt so perfect before.

And this time, when I woke up, the other side of my bed wasn’t empty. Damien was propped up against the headboard, shirtless, with his phone in his hand.

Twenty minutes ago, he left for a coffee run while I contemplated life before rolling my lethargic ass out of bed. Somehow, I have no problem pulling hours-long dance practices, yet I’m exhausted after a night of being fucked by Damien.

He’s freshly showered and clean for the day while I’m dressed in a tank and sweat shorts, my hair swept back in a slick bun. I have the day off from Brew Bliss and no dance practice.

“What’s that?” I ask as he hands me the coffee. I walk into the living room and settle on the couch, stretching out my legs.

“You move somewhere without a thousand fucking steps.” He sets down his coffee to collect my feet in his hands. He positions my legs to create room for him to drop onto the couch and settles my sock-covered feet on his lap.

“The rent is fair, and it’s all I can afford.” I shrug and sip my coffee.

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