Page 92 of Wicked Sins

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Josiah

Candy’s pulse flickers against my thumb. She’s terrified, and I can’t blame her. But I gave her a chance, and she chose not to take it.

Now she’ll have to pay the price.

There are eight sins, not just seven. Curiosity took me places I should never have gone. Forced me to have thoughts I never should have had.

Thoughts of Candy, naked.

Normal guys would have pictured her with spread legs, inviting them into her cunt with wild abandon.

Not me.

She never gave freely in those sick fantasies.

I can still taste her skin on my lips, but it’s not enough. I want more. I want her lust coating my lips and tongue. I want her to look away every time she sees me.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Why?

She’s beautiful. Smart. And because she’s broken, like me.

She’s perfect, but I can’t have her.

It’s forbidden. Taboo. A black mark on my soul for all of eternity. I don’t believe in heaven or hell…but if I did, then this would send me straight to Lucifer’s lap and have me sucking his dick for the rest of eternity in penance for what I’m about to do. For what I want to take from her.

And that’s the only reason I can fathom.

But once fantasy becomes reality, there’ll be no need to keep playing shit like this in my head, will there?

Her mouth is wide as she gasps for air; a wet, inviting O. Andfuck, how badly I want to stuff my cock in there and have her to suck me off.

But what she told me earlier echoes in a warning. She’s a fighter; she’ll probably bite off my dick before sucking it under duress.

I hold her down, one hand on her throat, the other palming her tits. Her nipples are hard little nubs, and that’s too tempting to leave to the imagination.

I rip open the front of her pajamas, baring her perfect breasts. The movie paints her skin in swathes of red and orange and white, muscles squirming as she struggles for breath.

Leaning over, I draw a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, teasing my tongue over that tight bud.

Candy moves under me. It’s impossible to tell if she’s trying to escape or get more of her tit in my mouth.

Her breathless moan is like a physical hand over my cock, stroking me harder and harder, until I can’t bear having my dick trapped behind my trunks anymore.

“See what you do to me?” I whisper furiously. Keeping my hand on her throat, I sit up on my knees, drawing my cock out from behind my underwear with the other. “This is all you, darling.”

Her eyes dart down, and then they squeeze shut. Her lips quiver out a theatrical, “I’m sorry.”

I almost laugh.

She’s not sorry.

She knows what she does to me. It probably gives her some kind of sick pleasure, torturing me like this.

“Look at me.”

Those blue eyes pop open, wide, and begging for mercy.

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