Page 42 of Sins and Secrets

He curls his fingers and yep, I’m going to die. Unable to escape, I pull on the chains and cuffs. I turn my head from side to side, trying to release any growing tension, but nothing works.

“Has anyone else made you feel this good before?” he asks with greed in his eye.

“No. Only you.”

He groans and undoes his fly, taking out his cock with one hand. He’s hard and his eyes are frantic. He pulls his fingers out of me and coats his cock with my juices before returning them to my pussy. He starts pumping his cock, his fist working at the same speed as his fingers inside me. His desire is building.

“No one else touches you but me.”

“Yes.” Why would I let anyone else touch me? He’s perfect.

“Look at me, Waverly.” The pressure builds and mounts until I can’t hold back. I stare deep into his eyes as I come. He groans and shudders as a hot white liquid shoots all over my stomach.

He wants me. I made him so aroused he couldn’t hold back. I broke him the way he shattered me.

And yet, he made me whole.

My whole body relaxes as wave after wave crashes and then mildly laps the edge of my shore.

I don’t fully understand what happened, but I know I’ll never be the same.

ChapterNineteen

Lukas

She lays there,eyes hazy and dreamy, her body devoid of all the tension she carried with her when she first appeared on my doorstep. Her lips curl into a drunken smile.

I gave her that smile.

Her hair is like wild strawberries in a field during summer, far spreading but tethered to the roots.

She lets out a tiny, satisfied moan as I leave the bed and put my pants back on. Her hands and feet are still bound, and her body has my marks all over it. My stomach knots. God, she’s amazing. When can I get her like this again?

Starting with her hands, I unlatch the leather cuffs around her wrists. The leather tightens before releasing. The straps didn’t leave any marks. Good. But her thighs must be burning. I’ve never seen her stretch this wide for this long. She’s gonna need a lot of after care.

Once unbound, I expect her to jump out of bed and, at best, run out, at worst, attack me with my lamp. But she stays still. Waiting.

“Hold on, I need to clean you up.” I don’t even recognize my own gravelly voice.

When I walk into my bathroom, I wet a towel with warm water and grab a second dry one. I catch a quick glance in the mirror. My skin still has the heated sex rash, despite the total lack of sex on my part, and there’s a self satisfied grin on my lips.

Stop. Take care of her. That’s number one.

Waverly has her arm draped across her chest, not covering anything up, relaxed. Her legs are closed, and the dreamy drunkenness has left her eyes. Reality is dissipating her sex fog.

The bed dips as I sit on the edge. Her thighs are still warm as I pull one close to me. “Open up.” She moves her other leg with something like a half-moan half-groan. I’m not fluent in her noises, I can’t tell if she’s hurt or annoyed that she has to move. “It’s warm,” I warn, pressing the wet cloth against her folds. She needs to be clean, safe, and secure before I send her on her way.

With one long stroke, my cum on her stomach is erased. Like it never happened.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet.

“Cleaning you up.” I press the dry, fluffy towel against her skin. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It is, but why are you doing it? Most of the time if a guy is nice enough to get me a towel, he chucks it at my face.”

While I’m grateful she doesn’t say my fuckwad brother’s name, I want to strangle him again for lowering her standards to a sub-basement level. “Yeah, not going to happen when you’re with me.”

I don’t say anything as I leave the room. When I return with a glass of water and a cookie on a plate, she’s sitting up, folding the towel.

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