Page 115 of Wicked Sins

My eyelids block out everything but a sliver of the world. There’s nothing but fog out there.

Where am I? This isn’t the study.

“Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

Someone moans long and low.

That someone is me.

My head lolls until I’m facing forward again.

Knees. Legs.

I’m propped up on something soft. A shape in front of me, blurring as it moves, anything that moves is a blur.

So instead, I look further. To the painting. To the deer, so delicate and cautious, ears pricked up as she scans the foggy trees.

I wish I’d noticed the predator. Wish I’d heard him coming like she did.

My body’s numb, all but one point. The apex of every single sensation tearing through me blooms from between my legs.

Blood sings in my veins as strong fingers trace a circle around my clit. My legs are spread wide open. I should be ashamed to have myself on display like this, but there’s no emotion, no fear, no panic…no dread of the repercussions of this wicked sin.

“Now it’s your turn,” he says, his jaw bunching as he moves to my side.

His fingers keep circling, circling. I don’t know if he’ll ever touch me. I’ll come apart if he does. There’s a wet spot under me, and it keeps growing the longer he makes me feel this good.

He tugs down his America Made briefs. For a moment, he’s still, watching me, waiting. In that moment, he’s no longer a blur. I can see his tattoo perfectly.

invictus maneo

His fully erect cockperfectly.

He takes my hand and guides it closer until I’m forced to wrap my fingers around his penis. Then he shows me how to stroke him, up and down.

As his fingers circle, circle, circle my clit. Spiraling inward like water down a drain hole. When he touches me, electric fire rips me apart.

I come. My body spasms. My foot kicks out and strikes something next to me on the bed.

I’m still stroking him, still rubbing his smooth, silky cock as he guides my hand. What was that? I need to know. My head lolls to the side.

“Don’t you worry, she’s fast asleep,” he says. He groans loudly. “Look at me, Candy Cane.”

I turn away from my mother’s sleeping form just as Mr. Bale comes onto my stomach. His dick throbs in my hand, and he makes me grip him as tight as I can as he empties every last drop onto my skin.

He smiles, cupping my face in his hand. He looks down at me, pushing open my legs and baring his teeth as if he wants to eat me alive. “Shit, baby girl. If I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow…”

He twists away, and comes back with something small and white trapped between his fingers.

“Say ‘ah’.”

My mouth falls open. The little pill is bitter on my tongue, but I swallow it down, welcoming the oblivion I know will follow.

He slides his hand down my stomach, gathering up his cum, and smears it between my legs. Then he slaps me, so hard that I arch off the bed.

Again.

Again.

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