Page 11 of Tempted By Sin

Goddamn.

“Funny, little bird. But I’m sure I could find more enjoyment out of you being chained up. Preferably to my bed while I fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

I blanch at his words, my eyes rounding to the size of the moon. The audacity of this man…. Who does he think he is saying something as crude as that? And why does it make my core throb at the thought of it happening?

I swallow hard and shift on the bed, my jaw tense as I stare back at him. “What is your name then, hmm? How could I possibly scream it when I don’t know it?”

His jaw ticks as he regards me, his shoulders now tense.

Checkmate, asshole.

If he wants to play this game, then I’m willing to as well. The first day of my captivity, I was a scared kitten filled with anxiety, wondering what would become of me. But the more time I spend with my kidnapper, the tension between us growing, I can’t help but consider that maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me. If he did, he would’ve done so by now.

The question of why he kidnapped me still lingers in the back of my mind. But if I’m going to be taken out by this man, whoever he may be, I may as well go down swinging until the very end.

“Who are you?” I ask in a deep voice, grasping onto the boldness blooming in my chest. If I don’t, I may never say the things I want to. Now might be my only chance. “Why did you choose me?”

Just like every other time I’ve questioned him, he doesn’t respond. He’s as solid as a marble statue as he sits in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, gazing intensely upon me from behind the mask. After a long moment of silence, he runs a hand through his curls and leans back in the chair, silent.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet? I mean, you clearly took me for a reason. If it wasn’t to kill me or force me into sex trafficking, then what is your plan for me?”

The thought of being smuggled across the country to ultimately meet my fate of working in a brothel for the rest of my days, or being bought and sold by awful, powerful men to do whatever they want to me, makes my skin crawl. I would rather take the option of death than live the rest of my life as a sex prisoner.

“Who do you work for?” I demand, my voice quivering slightly. As much as I want to know if this man is taking orders from a boss who is an even more dangerous man, or if he’s simply acting alone, I don’t think I can handle the response if he were to speak. “I want to know why I’m here.”

He stands, his height intimidating as he looms over the thin mattress. I’m cast in his shadow—not really, but it certainly feels like I am. His jaw ticks as he gazes down at me, unmoving.

The urge to hide under the thin sheets is strong. Any boldness coursing through my veins has disappeared. Despite the fear coating my body, the same fire burning deep within my core lingers, confusing the hell out me.

I need to stop thinking about this. Now. It’s wrong.

“You don’t want to know who I work for, little bird. But you don’t have to worry about me hurting you, unless you ask me to, of course.”

My heart leaps into my throat as I watch him turn, my eyes roaming his broad back as he swings the door open and slams it shut behind him. The lock latching into place echoes in my mind—reminding me I’m still trapped in this godforsaken room with no way of escaping.

I close my eyes and attempt to calm my racing heart. No matter how hard I try to forget the sound of his stupid, deep laugh and the way my skin heats beneath his gaze, I can’t seem to rid my mind of the damn masked man. Picturing him only fuels the fire burning in my core, aching to be touched.

Thinking about him is wrong, I know this. But I can’t stop. Not when he makes me feel like my entire body has just walked through a forest fire. Not even Liam has made me feel that way before.

I swallow hard and lie back on the pillow, the box springs digging into my back. My core aches, and I squeeze my thighs together to relieve the pain. The attempt is futile. All it does is make my head spin and my hand twitch beside me, itching to touch myself.

After a moment of contemplating, I screw my eyes shut, shame washing over me like a tidal wave. My hand has a mind of its own as it slips beneath the sheet and over the front of my T-shirt. The base of my throat thumps with each rapid heartbeat as I slip my hand beneath the waistband of pants.

The moment my fingers brush against my pulsing clit, stars burst in my vision. My head spins as my fingers become coated in my juices. The masked man pops into my mind, consuming me. For a brief moment, as my back arches off the bed and I bite back a moan, I picture his fingers touching me, circling my sensitive pussy with precision like he’s done it a million times.

“Shit,” I groan lowly, fighting to keep my breath from catching in my throat as I continue to work my clit.

“You like that, don’t you, little bird?” I hear his deep voice in the back of my mind, urging me to keep going. Guiding me to release.

A gasp bursts from my throat as I imagine him wrapping his lips around my swollen pussy, licking and sucking like a starved man, desperate for a taste. My back arches off the bed again as the pressure continues to build in my core.

“You like touching yourself to the thought of me, hmm?”

His voice echoes in my head, nearly sending me head first off the cliff. But I manage to hold on to that release as my fingers circle my core, building the pressure with each flick through my folds. I’m all but panting as I chase that release, eager to come at the thought of the masked man being the one to get me off.

“Does being my captive turn you on?”

Every ounce of shame I felt moments ago dissipates, now replaced with lust and desire.

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