Page 7 of Sinfully His

There would be no weaknesses for her to exploit, no family member she could sink her claws into for retaliation.

I would ruin her little princess, her last hope, so that she would have to live with knowing that both of her daughters were addicted to Manwarring cock.

Of course, I knew it wasn’t right to make Rose pay for Mary Quinn’s sins. But as we all knew, the father’s sins are often paid for by the son, and in this case, the mother’s many atrocities were going to ooze down and destroy her daughter.

It wasn’t fair, and Rose didn’t deserve that, but life wasn’t fair, and in my experience, what people deserved was rarely what they got. Besides, maybe if I destroyed her reputation now, she might have time to stop herself from becoming a copy of that shrew. Really, I was doing her a favor.

The cute purple sweaterdress slid to the floor after she unzipped it and shrugged out of it. The light cashmere almost seemed to float around her legs before mounding at her feet, followed by the warm, clingy leggings she rolled down her shapely legs.

It turned out her taste in lingerie was simpler than I guessed, almost plain. Her white cotton bra was barely more than a scrap of material covering the tight little nipples that peaked in the fabric. Her matching white cotton underwear was not anything scandalous, like a G-string that let everything hang out. Nor were they the other extreme, frumpy granny panties that held everything in. They weren’t even some high-end brand like La Perla. No, hers was simple and basic, riding low under her stomach but high on her hips, showing off her perfect ass.

The plain underwear would seem boring on any other woman, but on her, it appeared refined, classy even. Like she knew she needed nothing flashy or slutty to be sexy.

Jesus, how did she make something so boring seem so sinful? My cock twitched with interest. I wanted to bend her over in those little hip-hugging panties and see precisely how much of her full ass they exposed before pulling them aside to slide my cock into her tight virgin cunt.

I had thought that when I made her my little toy, I would make her wear the most scandalous underwear under her sweet little dresses. Just so her mother found them and knew that someone had defiled her. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Maybe I would let her keep her sweet cotton panties. Maybe instead of leaving her mother a trail of crotchless underwear and push-up bras, I would just let her catch me in the act.

Let her see her innocent daughter in nothing but her white cotton underwear, worshiping at the feet of her new god. I liked that idea a little too much. But I couldn’t let her catch us too soon. This wasn’t just about defiling Rose.

It was about breaking her… publicly.

The rage I had been harboring for so long was pushing through my body, begging to be let free. Part of me wanted to let it out now, rip that underwear from her body and fuck her hard and fast.

That wasn’t the kind of man I was. It was rash, and all it would do would be to give Mary Quinn her soapbox to play the victim. Besides, I was not a man of violence. I saved the brute force for less intelligent men. I was a man of strategy.

Mary Quinn didn’t need to be hurt. She needed nothing to cry about and aid in her return to society.

She needed to be crushed.

Irrevocably destroyed.

Then Rose twisted her shoulders to slide her arms into my shirt. I liked her in my clothes. There was something satisfyingly primal about it. To know she was surrounded by my scent, like some crude, barbaric claim.

I walked away from Rose to regain control of my emotions while she buttoned up my shirt and slipped back into the shoes she’d stepped out of to remove her tights. One impulsive act would ruin my little game. I refused to let that happen.

Besides, my little angel had a cut on her inner thigh, probably from the side of the dumpster. It needed to be cleaned, and I intended to care for her.

When this was all over, she would willingly follow where I led, even if it was straight to the gates of Hell.

CHAPTER 5

ROSE

The second I heard him move, I whipped around, ready to catch him watching me, not knowing what I would do about it.

But he wasn’t looking at me or gawking at me, dying just to glimpse my body. No, he was completely unaffected by me and my indecent state. He had entered the other room and turned on a light in what looked like a bathroom.

I glanced over at him every few seconds while buttoning the shirt he’d offered me, to see if his back was still turned. Each time, it was. True to his promise, he was a perfect gentleman. He granted me privacy and respected my modesty.

He had kept his promise.

I should have been happy he had kept his word, and that I wasn’t with some lecherous pervert that would prey on me. I should have felt relief and gratitude along with burning embarrassment for being a burden on someone else.

Why did I feel rejected and disappointed?

Though I had to admit, his back, even shrouded in darkness as it was, fascinated me. Just looking at him like this made my fingers itch for my charcoals. The way I would draw this body, over and over. I had tried my hand at figure sketches before, andeven took a class with a live nude model. Once I got over the shock of being in a room with a naked man, I was bored.

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