Page 33 of SINS & Riley
Warm breath skates along my ear. His lips brush close enough to steal the air from my lungs.
“You’ve been very naughty in the dark, haven’t you?”
Oh, hell.
He’s not talking about my little trip to the doctor’s office. I know exactly what he means.
But the hell I’m admitting it. My voice scrapes out thin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
Heat roars up my neck. He’s right. Of course, he is. He’s always right, and it pisses me off.
Zver didn’t just cure my fear of the dark. He turned it into a playground. That’s why I did it. In the one room I thought was camera-free. The library.
I grabbed the biggest, fattest chess piece I could find and rode it like it was checkmate or bust.
My own personal “fuck you” to Zver.
Not that I ever imagined in my wildest dreams he’d see me.
What—does this necklace have a spy cam now?
“You can’t punish me for that,” I blurt, raw heat scraping my throat.
“The act? Never, Zapretnaya.” Ice cold glazes my breast. My nipple puckers so hard I can’t breathe—mostly because I’m ninety-nine percent certain it’s the same goddamn chess piece I used between my legs.
“I’m not even punishing you for desecrating an eighteenth-century chess piece for your personal pleasure. The bishop, no less.”
His growl rolls against my neck, vibrating all the way down my back. “I’m punishing you for not finishing the job.”
My heart stutters.
How the hell does he know that?
I heard a noise and panicked. And when my brain screams abort, abort, abort, I obey—whether I’m stranded on the cliff of Half-O or not.
“Spread your legs,” he commands.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
A protest rises from my chest, sharp, reckless, and begging to be stupid. But before I can spit it out, his voice slides in.
“I suggest you do it now. Before I let the guards back in.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You know me, Zapretnaya. I am a man of my word. Do as I say… unless you’d like them to watch.”
Air rips from my lungs. I most certainly do not.
Agonizingly slow, my legs inch apart. He doesn’t rush me. He never does. He’s too busy savoring the control.
I know I’ve given him enough when he moans, low and guttural. “Mmm.”
His fingers slide past my panties. A rough stroke, followed by a slow, filthy caress.
