Page 64 of Sinful Sacrifice

I gulp, peering up at him.

We’re not speaking, but so many emotions burn between us.

Desire. Darkness. Like nothing other than this moment matters.

He holds me in place, one hand back at my waistband and the other at my waist, digging into my skin through my shirt. “From now on, when you’re here, you wear fucking dresses,” he grits out. “Taking these off is a pain in the ass.”

He peels my leggings off my body, kneeling to pull them off my feet, and I kick out of them. My panties are the next to go. But they don’t join my leggings on the floor. He slips them into his pants pocket.

“My gorgeous dancer, always so soaked for me,” he mutters, as if speaking to himself more than me. “God, I love touching this pussy.” He uses his knee to separate my legs, jerking them apart, and slips a finger inside me. “Love that you give it to me, knowing all the good and bad things I’ll do to it.”

He slides his finger out and smacks my pussy with his palm.

Then, I get a little brave.

I decide that maybe, for once, I’ll try to run the show.

There’s a sense of satisfaction as I push his shoulders back.

That satisfaction fizzles right out when he hardly moves.

The man has, like, fifty pounds on me and has probably never been pushed around. All I’ve ever pushed are my parents’ nerves and the balance on my credit card when I see a candle sale.

He focuses on me, a smile building on his face. “Does my dancer want to take control?”

Why do I suddenly feel shy?

He retreats a few steps and collapses on the chair again.

His carnal eyes watch me as he unfastens his cuff links, setting them to the side, and rolls up his sleeves.

I gulp, watching his Adam’s apple move.

He rests his elbows on the chair’s arms. “Come take control, baby. I want to see you do it.”

I scrape my teeth against my bottom lip.

Here I am, having stage fright with him again.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Pippa.” He tsks me. “Either come ride my dick or spend the rest of the day craving it because in five seconds, I’ll leave this room and deprive your sweet pussy of my cock.” He relaxes in the chair while unbuckling his pants.

For some disturbed reason, his words calm me.

They also give me a push in his direction.

“Five,” he clips out.

I inch closer.

“Four.”

Closer.

“Three.”

I take the final step, where I’m standing above him. My chest heaves, my breathing fluttering like a butterfly.

“Two.”

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