Page 91 of When Sinners Fall
Being blindfolded allows my mind to block out reality and get lost in the moment. There’s an edge of danger that he’s introduced, but at the same time, I’m grounded. He tied me up, blindfolded me, and ran something sharp and cold along my skin. That sent my pulse skyrocketing. He trailed it over me like he would a caress, and I could do nothing but give myself over to the sensation. I don't think it was a knife. At least he didn't hurt me with it if it was, but my mind completely spun out either way. I was turned on, desperate for contact, but also paralysed with what he could do. And, of course, he read me like an open book. He knows that there’s a line with fear that lights me up, and he's set on capitalising on that every damn time lately.
It was so intense, I came almost as soon as he touched my clit.
After that, we watched a couple in another room. He was marking her skin, like a tattoo, but not with ink. I couldn’t tell if the woman was terrified or turned on, but it’s been stuck in my head ever since.
To be marked. Like I marked Dante.
That night started with rage. His anger drove it. But when I can’t sleep at night, I often run my fingers over his chest - over the tattoo he forced me to give him. A coil of heat awakens inside me every time I do. This man – my beautiful, brutal man - marked himself. For me. He took my hand and made me score into his skin to prove himself. He's killed for me. He's rescued me. He’d die for me.
It’s heady, and not in a safe or sane way, but in a completely toxic and possessive way. And maybe that’s just us. Maybe, right from the start, that’s what we were going to be.
“Where are we going tonight?” I ask, as I flick the mascara over my eyelashes.
“You need to ask?”
“I could make a guess, but it’s good to know if I should dress for the occasion.” I watch his face in the reflection of the mirror.
“You don’t need to dress in anything. You know I’ll strip you just as soon as I get you where I want you.” His lips brush my ear as he delivers words filled with promise.
“And where exactly is that?” I lick my lips and wait. Being surprised is one thing, but I want to know what he has planned because thereissomething. He's been leading me somewhere. Getting me ready.
My eyes travel down his chest and linger on the tattoo. “Did I hurt you?” I ask.
“You could never hurt me, Wren Bird. Physically at least.”
“Okay, but that’s not really helpful in this instance. Did the needle hurt?”
“Tattoos aren’t that painful,” he says matter of factly. Of course, someone who’s covered in tattoos would say that.
I nod and go back to getting ready. “Okay.”
“I love this tattoo. You gave me this, and it shows me, and you, what words might fail to.” He takes my hand and runs it over his chest. “I like that you secretly think it’s hot, too.”
I can’t even deny it.
~
It’s late when we arrive at the club, and it feels like he’s eager. More so than the last few visits. It’s also quieter, with fewer people crowding the communal area. We're through that quickly, as he pulls me along to the room that I’m fast thinking of as our own. The doors stay open after we've entered. I’m not sure if that’s because he wants it, or if it’s for my benefit.
I stand by the large wooden cross and let him secure me. Playing captive after what I’ve been through shouldn’t be such a thrill, but I can’t hide that being restrained with him is hot. He works me up and takes me to the edge so easily.
He moves out of sight, and I take a few deep breaths and wait for what he has planned.
The thwack through the air sounds harsher than it feels on my skin, and it starts my adrenaline pumping. His hands on any part of me seem to work, and dishing out a bite of pain is sexier than I’d ever imagined.
He doesn’t shut out my sight right away, and I enjoy watching as he removes his shirt, exposing his skin to me. I swallow and look at him as he passes back and forth, and the anticipation grows thick between us.
With sure fingers, he eventually ties the blindfold in place and then wrenches down the black halter top I picked out to wear. Cool air pebbles my nipples, sending a shiver of embarrassment to warm my cheeks.
“It’s cute you still get shy. I could shove my fingers inside you and make you scream.” His fingers flick my nipple, hard. “Yet bearing these makes you go pink.”
It’s all true.
He slaps my thigh before pulling my skirt from my hips, leaving only the thong I chose untouched. And then he doesn’t say anything or touch me for a few minutes. My breathing catches as my head starts to spin. It’s the best and worst part. My imagination and fears collide, conjuring all kinds of scenarios he's worked up for me.
“You’re fucking perfect, Wren.” His words sound so close and are followed by a deep groan. Warm liquid lands on my stomach, and I picture him standing in front of me, stroking himself to climax.
“Everyone in this club knows you’re mine.” His words are stronger now, and I can sense he’s stepped away as the warm liquid begins to cool on my skin. It’s like he’s marked me with his cum as a physical sign. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I’m at his mercy – and I’m his every desire right now, and that’s a powerful mix. “Everyone outside the club knows you’re mine. Word is that you're off limits, Wren Bird. They all know what will happen if anyone touches you. They even think about touching you, and they’ll die.” My hair is pulled, forcing my head back to allow access to my neck. He bites my throat, sucking and nibbling at my flesh, and it sends sparks of desire deep to the pit of my stomach. “In here, you’ll let me do whatever I want to your body. I’ve tied you up, made you beg, threatened and fucked you. And you can’t get enough, can you?”
