Page 34 of Make Me A Sinner
I know he told me not to touch myself, and I'm really trying to listen to his command. But my hips start moving against thepillow I have between my legs, and I almost cry out in agony realizing I've become desperate enough to hump a pillow.
I glance around the room, trying to think of anything else. I start counting random objects—until my memory decides to punish me, flooding me with the images of Set moving on top of me.
Fuck!
The image feels so vivid now, it sends a wave of heat crashing over me.
I'm almost sweating from the memory, my breasts aching to be touched, my nipples already hard.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get some sleep and chase every other thought away. Maybe I could’ve managed if his scent wasn't hitting me so hard from the sheets.
I lose all self-control, and I find my hand slipping beneath my panties, fingers brushing the spot that’s begging for friction. Just a little, I lie to myself, right before my fingers start gliding over my clit.
God, it feels so good when I imagine my hand becoming Set's. My pulse races, and so does my rhythm. I need to satisfy the craving somehow before I end up doing something stupid because of it.
I know I should stop, but I just can't. I'm too close. It’ll only take a few more seconds to cure myself from what he's doing to me.
My body tenses, my hand rushes to get me there, and those seconds of silence that warn me of my incoming release numb everything around me.
The sound of a text message makes me jolt upright—my heart still pounding, my body still not at ease, but there’s only one person in this world who texts me.
I glance at the screen, and a chill replaces the heat inside my body.
Get your hand out of there, or I'll come tie you to the bed for A WEEK!!!
I groan in frustration as I look around me for cameras. He must have some hidden somewhere around the room. There’s no way he could’ve known otherwise.
Oh, this is bad. I quiver thinking about how I just disobeyed one of his orders. I know now that when it comes to me, that isn't exactly like getting a death sentence, but he has other ways to punish me. Ways that make my body go rogue against me. Ways that’ll make me doubt my own sanity.
I try to shut my eyes again, hoping to be asleep before he walks through the door. But things are never easy in my life. I don't manage to fall asleep. I toss and turn on every side of the bed until I start counting again. Nothing seems to be working, even though I look at the clock and it's 2 a.m.
Suddenly, I hear Eight Ball meowing at the door, and figure he might help me sleep if I let him in. Back in Italy, I used to fall asleep with him curled up in my arms every night.
I get up to open the door to let him in, but before I get back to bed, another text from Set lights up my screen.
Living room. Now.
This doesn't sound good at all. But he heard the door, he knows I am awake. There’s no fooling him now into thinking otherwise.
With slow steps, I head toward the living room. I know I'm in trouble. I just don't know how bad it is.
Whiro must be gone, I don't think Set would’ve summoned me if his brother was still here.
I slip into the room and he notices my presence but doesn't say a single word, just curls his index finger, calling me to the bar.
The space feels endless, and despite everything, I wish it took even longer to reach him.
He’s perched on a high stool, elbows resting on the bar, his phone in one hand. His finger moves again, so I come closer and as soon as I'm within his reach, he draws me to his chest and raises his phone in front of me so that we're both looking at the same image.
Jesus, please don't let this be what I think it is.
No such luck. As I look at the screen, I see myself in the bedroom from a few hours ago. The camera’s off to my right, and it's not the only one in the room.
"Set," I want to explain myself, but I have no real idea how.
"Shush, let's watch this," he says, pressing play.
I should’ve figured he had cameras, but I think I was too desperate to find some release—too desperate to break free from his hold.
