Page 77 of The Sins of Silas

I watched him in the mirror, savoring the view of his perfect profile between my legs.

Once the spun sugar had been completely eaten, Roland’s finger slipped inside me, pumping in and out as he licked and sucked relentlessly on my clit. My head eventually fell back, my hands running through his hair as he quickened his pace.

My eyes were squeezed shut, my back arching at the incredible feeling, and as my orgasm built, my mind imagined dark hair and amber eyes. It pictured tattoos on tanned skin.

“Godsdamn it,” I cried softly.

I was lost now. I smelled pine and citrus as I recalled him whispering in my ear. I remembered the feeling of his hands on my waist, my fingers in his hair as my body was pressed so close to his.

I pictured him in my room the day he first claimed me. I pictured us in the forest, my mouth sliding up and down his length. I pictured him between my legs, only this time it wasn't the sweet, gentle man from before who I envisioned tasting me, but instead, the dark, tattooed Prince.

Only a few moments passed before I loosened a breathy wail, fisting Roland's hair as I rode out my orgasm on his face.

Roland waited until my throbbing ceased. “Holy hell,” he respired as he withdrew his finger from inside me. He prowled over me, capturing my lips with his.

I am a terrible person.

I desired Roland, but my damn treacherous body still wanted Silas, too. I decided I was done thinking about the Prince.

I grasped Roland's erection through his pants, my eyes locked on him, and he groaned.

“I can't wait to stretch you again, Lena,” he whispered in my ear.

I moaned softly as he pushed his hardened length against my pussy. I was more than eager to feel him inside me, more than eager to look into his hazel eyes than think about gold ones. But as Roland was fumbling with his belt, a feeling of darkness washed over me.

Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I quickly grasped his hand, forcing him to a halt as my eyes darted downward, looking past his shoulder.

He froze. “What's wrong?”

I sat up a second later, pushing Roland off of me. I reached down and quickly slid on my underwear. “I-I don't know.”

I stood, closing my eyes.

“Lena, talk to me.”

That feeling…It was getting closer.

No…there can't be an Undead here. There would be screaming.

The feeling increased, and I stiffened as the zipper to our room began to pull upward slowly.

“Roland,” I hissed softly. “Get behind me.”

“What? No, I—”

The material spread, and three figures marched in.

I gasped at what I beheld.

Roland’s brows scrunched together. “What the fuck…?”

Three people, two with the bodies of males and one with the body of a female, stood facing us. They wore dark cloaks with the hoods up, and their hands were gloved. But what was most alarming were the porcelain masks concealing their faces. All were white, the lips black, and through the eyeholes, solid black eyes could be seen.

Solid. Black. Eyes.

---