Page 152 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

He huffs like my indecisive dick is starting to piss him off. I try the safe word again, try to shove the ring out of my mouth with my teeth and tongue, but the tight strap around my head makes it impossible. As a last resort, I snap my fingers as loud as I can. His mouth pops off my cock, and he glances up at me. “Did you snap?”

If I nod, I might rip my nipples off, but he’s experienced enough as a Dom to look harder—and he knows me well enough to read what’s behind my eyes.

Looking stricken, he moves quickly, reaching behind my head to unbuckle the gag then hooking a finger around the ring to yank it from my mouth. The word tumbles out. “Sacrifice. Stop. Please. Please, I don’t want this.”

His brow draws over dark eyes that look too full. His whisper is harsh. “Thank fucking God.”

With his hands on my cheeks, he presses his lips to mine. The kiss lasts only a few seconds before he ducks his head and chokes back a sob. When he kisses me again, I taste his tears on his lips.

43

GIBSON

Christian would have made a beautiful submissive. He’s long, lithe, flexible. His smooth, flawless skin turns the most perfect shade of pink when smacked. He looks beyond fuckable in leather and gags. But I can’t dominate him when all I want is to be with him.

I’m not saying I can’t be rough, or I’m tossing the nipple clamps in the dumpster—I’m saying I don’t want to make him cry in surrender over some psychic pain he can’t verbalize. I want to find my own way into his heart so I can share the burden with him.

It takes a few minutes to get him off the bench. I’m clumsy with relief and the fear of failing him. He needed something from me, and I wasn’t able to deliver, but maybe he’ll let me try some other way. I help him sit up, and he throws his arms around me.

It knocks the wind out of me because I wasn’t expecting it. He’s usually more hands-off the first few minutes after a scene. I’ll take this, though. I nearly stumble forward in his embrace, but he helps me steady myself when he wraps his freed legs around my waist, hugging himself to me like a koala. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” I say, thinking he means my near stumble.

“You didn’t want that, and I didn’t need it. I freaked out, but I should have just said that.”

“Freaked out?”

“I wanted to be the one you had dinner with.”

Oh, Christ.This man. He’s tearing me the fuck apart, and I’m welcoming it. “I wanted that, too, baby. I missed you.”

“Was it okay?”

“It was nothing. Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell you everything.”

He nods, his chin digging into my shoulder, and then slowly, he lets me go, but not before I kiss him.

I help him get dressed, and we make our way down to the basement. In the glow of white string lights, we lie together on his couch, legs tangled, chest to chest, with one of the pillows from his bed beneath our heads. He runs the pad of his thumb over my eyebrow, and I play with some of the wilder strands of his hair.

“It was just dinner. Lasted about thirty minutes. She enjoyed being out of the city for a while. Asked me why I changed the password to my checking account because she was trying to Zelle someone and couldn’t. I told her it was a fraud alert.”

“That’s it?”

“And she asked how my month had been.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said ‘productive.’”

“You didn’t elaborate?”

“Sure. I told her I closed on the warehouse on 12th, and that I have all the permits in order to start demo on the Wall Street building.”

“Sounds like a fun talk.”

“I wasn’t up for a direct Q&A. Honestly I think I needed to get the lay of the land before I decide what’s next.”

“And did you?” he asks softly.

---