Page 81 of Sinner

I’d heard people braced for moments of discipline such as this, so I dug my fingers into the buttery leather of his couch. I’danticipated an explosion of discomfort, but I hadn’t expected how my body would react to the sound of the man snapping his wrist.

Suddenly, everything drifted into slow motion, sounds including the moans forced past my lips barely audible. I did hear myself gasping for air only seconds later as the discomfort I thought I’d experience shifted into utter anguish.

I was thrown how my body reacted, my stomach lurching while my pussy convulsed. This wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be.

Xander was highlighting his lack of patience, something I’d heard him call in interviews his number one flaw. I’d found it almost the only endearing aspect about him. Now his lack of patience meant he was bringing the belt down in brutal strikes, one coming right after the other.

There was no sound coming from my throat any longer, unless the strangled heavy breaths counted. I wiggled back and forth as the anguish blossomed into something more intense, extreme heat building on both ass cheeks.

I don’t know what I’d expected, but sensing how wet I’d become, knowing my thong was soaking wet boosted the sweep of endorphins.

He was so quiet as he stood behind me, my Sinner. But the crackle of electricity we shared was all around us, spinning out of control. He rubbed his hand down my spine, taking his time doing so. The moment he shoved his thumb in the crack, finding my asshole, I gasped out loud. I pushed up from the couch, the discomfort different than before.

When it quickly morphed into a feeling of exhilaration, I realized I had a smile on my face. He didn’t start again immediately. I heard rustling and dared tilt my head over my shoulder.

He’d removed his shoes and trousers, allowing me a wonderful view of his magnificent body. My God, he was perfect top to bottom. Even the shape of his legs was as if crafted from stone.

I was as shaken by seeing him this way as I’d been with the first strike of the belt.

With a deep sigh, he brought the belt down four additional times.

The sound got to me, the hard cracking mimicking the ragged beating of my heart. He knew what I needed more than I did. The realization kept the moment surreal, just another dark fantasy no game could ever match.

He fell into a rhythm, his breathing matching the crack of the belt and my gasps and moans. As the heat in my bottom grew, I found myself pressing further into the couch, the pain intense, but swallowed by an even greater pleasure. By the time he tossed the strap aside, my legs were threatening to take me to the floor. He didn’t allow that to happen, lifting me gently, but that was the end of any tender moment.

As he spun me around, I was certain he was going to tell me to run. But there was a different look in his eyes, one of possession.

The single glimpse of his cock brought another feeling bursting through me.

An even more twisted sense of anticipation. His cockhead was glistening with drops of pre-cum covering the slit. I wantednothing more than to drag my tongue through the slender trickle.

It was thrilling to feel as if I belonged to him. The feeling would pass. That much I knew because this was only remotely different than certain scenes in Dark Nights. I clawed at his chest and shoulders, but he was having none of my need for control.

As he took long strides from the room, he yanked both arms behind my back, easily able to hold my wrists with one hand. He moved into his weight room, which was a surprise. As he eased me down onto a weight bench, careful that my head rested on the platform, he was forced to release my hands.

When I lifted my arms to touch his chest, he pointed a finger at me.

“No. Grab the side bars instead. Do not let go. If you do, I’ll use something harsher than the belt on your tender ass.” His tone was fraught with a deep, dark, and sensual tone that not only captivated me, but urged me to obey.

A strange rush of emotions coiled through me like a venomous snake as I watched him. At least I was allowed to enjoy the view, the veins on his fully engorged cock drawing my attention. His balls were hanging low, swollen and pulsing.

Bending over, he rolled the edge of a single finger from one hip to another, following the line of elastic on my thong. With a strange, extremely possessive look on his face, he tugged the thin, soaked lace past my hips and knees. Once the pair was hung around my calves, he lifted one leg, raking his fingers down the inside before turning his attention to the other.

Watching the way he worked was like looking at the artistry of a master of craftsmanship. For someone who’d blatantly andeasily slit another man’s throat, he was so tender I was kept in awe. When I was finally free of them, he pulled my thong to his mouth, inhaling only once, his eyes now cinched shut.

When he opened them again, I could swear his pupils were dilated. He laughed under his breath noticing my expression and placed the leg of my thong at the end of the weight bar. Perhaps it was a reminder that as of this moment, I was his captive.

He wasn’t preening, didn’t seem interested in pleasuring himself. He simply studied me as he stood over me, finally straddling the bench a full minute later. His eyes were unreadable as if he was wearing his mask. He was the master of control, a man who didn’t do anything without a purpose.

Tonight, I belonged to him. There was no concern of whether this was right or wrong because a man like Xander Blackwell simply didn’t care what was decent or what others thought. He took what he wanted, played the game like a warrior and fixated on dominating all those around him.

I tilted my chin, doing my best to keep my hands wrapped around the bars. Hanging overhead was a bar with two thick weights attached at the end. I had no fear of it falling as everything Xander did was meticulous. When he seemed satisfied his prey was willing to obey him, he bent his knees, using one hand to rub the tip of his cock around my belly button.

It was an intimate moment and I held my breath, darting my eyes across his. As soon as he rubbed his cockhead down the length of my pussy, I was unable to express my excitement, the single moan raspier than any before.

He seemed pleased with my response, his eyelids now hooded, reminding me of Sinner more than the billionaire playboy he’destablished himself to be. I wondered which was the true mask he chose to wear: his professional one or the one that had dazzled me into submission?

Everything about him was methodical including when he pressed the tip of his cock against my pussy lips. The scent of him was suddenly mind blowing—the deep forest with undertones of leather and citrus. The combination had an intoxicating effect on my nervous system.

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