Page 28 of Remorseless Sinner

“I—love sucking on men’s cocks,” I said firmly, amazed that my voice wasn’t trembling. “I do it all the time.”

If I was brave enough, I could escape him!

“I love putting them in my—cunt. It’s so hot.”

Saul’s brows drew together and I saw a muscle work in his jaw.

I tried very hard not to look at his black jeans, the bulge I saw in his pants even though he was leaning back relaxed.

“Gracie, you’re pissing me off. Sit down here and eat or I’ll spank you.”

My fingers were slick on the metal of the handcuffs.

I had to get down to his ankle without him suspecting anything.

“What does it mean I have a week to love you?” I stalled.

“It means I’ll give you a week to come to terms with our marriage.”

How come I could still smell him from here? Clean soap, leather, a mouth-watering touch of smoke from the woodstove. . .

“So I have one week without you trying to stick that. . . thing in me?”

“Yes,” he said with a smirk. “Unless you piss me off and I lose control.”

At his words, I felt a terrible tingling sensation going down my spine. But it didn’t matter. In the time it took him to get free, I could easily make it down the street and to City Hall where the Sheriff would be.

“OK, OK,” I said. “I’m sorry. But how can we really be married? I don’t think I wet your boot enough.”

He raised one dark eyebrow, and his arm reached for the mug of coffee.

He was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans today, the fabric stretched tight against his massive chest.

“Mama, there was cum running down to your ankles. My goddamn pant legs were wet up to the knee. I think you wet it enough. But if you want to try again, go for it.”

Ah-ha! He’d suggested it without me even having to say anything.

“OK,” I said.

He hesitated for a moment and I held my breath.

If he was going to be so disgusting as to carnally desire me, I was going to use that for my advantage.

Several of the precepts of Nimhe entered my mind but I shoved them aside. Surely this came under the heading of whorish behavior, but I didn’t care.

This wasn’t disobeying my husband. It was trying to escape from a con man who had fooled the rest of the church, but he hadn’t fooled me.

Then Saul stretched back, the chair scraping on the wooden floor and he spread his thighs wide.

There was a thick bulge already pressing against his black jeans and I swallowed convulsively, but bent down, carefully maneuvering the handcuffs so they wouldn’t make noise.

Then I put one hand on Saul’s leg, the blood-red of my ruby ring catching the light for a moment.

Was this going to work?

My thighs screaming I squatted down over his boot, lowering my body over the firm, hard surface.

Just as I felt his heavy exhalation all along my skin, I pulled the cuffs from behind my back, suddenly panicking his legs were too massive, but before I could faint from fear, I snapped one cuff around his ankle and the other around the chair, trapping him tight.

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