Page 47 of Sins of the Hidden

The toy's relentless buzz filled the sudden silence. My vision tunneled with jealousy. Why should plastic bring her cunt pleasure when I was right here?

Shattered mirror glass reflected our bodies in fractured pieces—the same mirror I'd pulverized with my fist when her panic attack awakened something monstrous inside me. Now our distorted reflections told a different story. Broken, just like she would be when I was done with her.

"V-V?" Her body jerked backward across the sheets bearing a dark stain. Trembling fingers clawed at tangled bedding while the toy skittered across the mattress, its mechanical hum mocking her ragged breathing.

I froze in place, muscles locked against the urge to lunge forward and rip those pathetic sheets away. This control mirrored how I stood when I found her mid-panic attack—when the slightest movement might have fractured her. Her scent hung thick in the air—something primitive and forbidden. My lungs constricted as nails bit into scarred palms beneath leather gloves, pressure barely registering against the violent hunger clawing through me.

She grabbed for the sheet with shaking fingers, yanking it across herself. The thin fabric did nothing to conceal her racing pulse or how her chest heaved beneath the cotton, desire fighting terror.

My teeth caught the edge of my glove, pulling it off with predatory patience. Never breaking eye contact. The black leather dangled from my mouth before I spit it to the floor. I wanted nothing between us when I claimed her.

A broken sound escaped her throat—not quite a whimper, not quite a plea—making my pulse quicken with anticipation. The floorboard groaned as I advanced, the sound amplified in the weighted silence. Her eyes tracked every movement, pupilsdilated until only a sliver of jade remained, her bottom lip caught between teeth begging to be bitten.

Another step closer. Her knees locked together beneath the sheet, a reflexive attempt at protection. The movement pulled a shaky exhale from her parted lips as she shrank against the headboard.

The mattress dipped under my weight, forcing her to slide toward me. Time stretched like heated honey, thick and dangerous. I counted each rapid pulse at the base of her throat, watched her chest rise and fall beneath thin cotton.

"P-please," she whispered, voice barely formed, hoarse with uncertainty.

Please what? Please stop? Please continue? Her muscles couldn't decide—disgust fighting the involuntary arch of her spine. A flush spread from her chest to her throat as her hips lifted once—muscle memory, not choice. She bit her lip while I stared her down. Not holding back a scream—but trapping a moan.

The sheet slipped from her nerveless fingers when I reached for it. I tore it away in one violent motion, the fabric ripping with a sound that echoed her gasp. Every inch of her was exposed to my hungry gaze—the soft curve where thigh met hip and the goosebumps rising on her flesh.

The image staggered me. Something dark and unfamiliar uncurled in my chest—a hunger I'd never confronted before. My hands shook. Not from doubt. From the need to carve this moment into her warmth, to brand it into mine. I dropped my bat to the floor, surging forward. My knee hit the mattress hard.

The dull thud of my knees hitting the mattress punctuated the moment my fingers made contact with her skin. The sensation of her warmth against mine sent electricity arcing through my body, a current so powerful it nearly brought meto my knees. Every cell in my body screamed to possess her completely.

She stared up at me, filled with conflicted need yet unable to look away. Her chestnut hair spilled across the purple sheets. She looks at me like I was made of nightmares. Pupils devoured jade, a warped mirror of my mask. Those perfect pink lips quivering, unspoken dread curling on her exhale. The tremble of her ribs beneath cotton, her heartbeat hammering beneath flesh that would bruise so easily under my hands. If I ever understood beauty, it would be the sound terror made when it had nowhere else to run.

"Open," I commanded, voice barely recognizable—a guttural sound ripped from somewhere feral inside, more animal than human. The single word hung between us, thick with a sinister vow, unspoken continuation clear: or I would force them open.

Her legs clenched, hesitating before parting. I couldn't speak, couldn't form words around the hunger clawing up my throat. Her knees remained drawn tight, cheeks darkened to crimson, lungs working with each panicked inhale. The sight of her vulnerable like this made something snap inside my chest. No other eyes would look upon her like this and continue breathing.

"Open wider." My hand was between her knees, forcing them apart with calculated pressure—the gentleness of my touch a stark contrast to the violence raging inside. I wanted to see her fully exposed to me.

I reached across her body, heat searing my skin as I grabbed the toy still buzzing against the sheets. I brought it to my nose, inhaling her essence before hurling it to the floor. Plastic shattered beneath my boot—weak, replaceable. Her startled gasp was sweeter than any confession I'd tortured from a man.

Her lungs caught as I braced my arms on either side of her shoulders, caging her beneath me. I moved with deliberate slowness, savoring her dread, letting her feel my intention witheach calculated shift of my body. The mattress dipped and groaned as I swung my other leg over her, straddling her hips, my jeans rough against her exposed flesh. She shivered under me, every inhale catching as I settled my full weight onto her, pinning her completely.

Dread dilated her pupils until only a shard of jade remained around the blackness. Those eyes haunted me from the first moment—fascination and panic no one else ever dared reveal.

Her body trembled beneath mine as I aligned my face with hers, her lips hovered inches from mine.

The heat of her beneath me sent shockwaves through me—a sensation that nearly undid me. I'd dreamed of this moment, imagined it countless times, watching her from the shadows, but fantasy was nothing. My entire body locked with the effort to maintain control. This wasn't torture. It was something worse—uncharted territory and I was drowning.

"No toys," I growled, the words vibrating through both our bodies. "No substitutes. Only my hands. My mouth. My hunger. Nothing else will ever invade you again."

I pulled back, drinking in the sight of her laid out beneath me. Her shirt had ridden higher, exposing the soft curve of her stomach. Silvery stretch marks caught the moonlight streaming through her curtains, delicate threads mapping her flesh like lightning captured in bone. The image burned into my brain like a brand, something I’d revisit every time I closed my eyes.

I hesitated. Not from doubt. From the need to show her what no one else had seen—what the monster wore beneath its shell.

I hooked my fingers into the edge of my black surgical mask, lifting it just enough to free my mouth. I leaned in, claiming her completely. She tasted like shame and surrender. Like something sacred, desecrated. I savored her, memorizing every sensation.

Her hips bucked against my face, even as her body tightened. A sound escaped her—half gasp, half moan—as her nerves fired despite her mind's resistance.

"V," she gasped, shame blazing across her cheeks. "I-I wasn't thinking— it was just a fantasy–"

The words sliced through me, instant ice. Confusion filled her eyes as she quickly looked away. Rage burned my blood. My fingers dug into her flesh, leaving immediate marks of my fury. Her chin lifted—a flash of defiance beneath the embarrassment. “Who?"

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