Page 61 of Make Me A Sinner
Oh, fuck you, Set.
I head to the terrace for a few minutes to calm my nerves—or at least keep my head from exploding. It’s not working, so I finish my drink and head to the bathroom to fix my makeup or maybe just lock myself in there for the rest of the night. Haven’t decided yet.
I get the urge to wash my face, but that would just ruin my makeup, so I end up staring at myself in the mirror for a couple minutes. I need answers to so many things I’ve been ignoring until now. I was too busy keeping my sanity between everything else that was going on in my life. But this is my life now, and I need to figure out what the fuck is going on here.
I suddenly hear someone enter the bathroom, and I need to look somewhat normal. I try to pull myself together so the mess I actually am inside won’t reflect on my face. But when I glance at the door, I see Set standing there with his hands behind his back.Then a soft clink echoes through the room as the door locks shut behind him.
“Set,” I say, meant as a slight warning, but it’s actually just my fear speaking out loud. This doesn’t look good. He just locked us in the bathroom with a few hundred people right outside. “Set, this is the woman’s bathroom,” I warn again as I see him heading my way like he doesn’t even hear me. His eyes are locked on me like I’m his fucking prey. “Set, what are you doing?” I all but quiver, my breath caught in my throat. And as I look at him, his eyes are almost fully dark.
He still doesn’t say a word, just steps straight in front of me, and I swear I can see his neck tattoos slightly shifting again. He looks feral, almost untamed. “I want to see my mark,” he says, and takes another step closer, inching me against the sink. He seems larger now, like his clothes might burst at any second. And no matter how badly I want to deny it—he’s so fucking hot.
Still, I can’t allow him near me—not here. I know where this could go. We’re at a damn party, for God’s sake.
“N…no,” I try to walk away, but I end up practically fused to the sink. I start trembling, and no matter how badly I wish that sensation wouldn’t be there, I can hide it from him.
“Yes,” he says, a demonic grin tugging at his lips, and suddenly lifts my dress high enough to see what he wants, the fabric almost tearing in his grip.
I freeze, looking at him as his hand gently traces the shining stone with his initials carved into it. His breathing turns almost erratic, and judging by the looks of him, I half expect him to go Hulk on me because his clothes look ready to split at the seams. Or maybe, it’s my clothes that are close to being ripped.
His fingers slip lower. Feeling how wet I am for him, he chews on his bottom lip as if he’s already playing out exactly what he’s going to do to me.
“It’s not healed yet,” I say, giving him his cue to back off.
But he doesn’t. “I don’t care.” He spins me around to face the mirror, his heavy palms spreading my thighs. “Promise it won’t hurt… much,” he whispers with evil satisfaction as I try to resist—still pissed off about mostly everything in my life right now.
My hands fly to his, trying to stop him from unzipping his pants. I even slap at his hands a couple of times, feeling him angle me just enough to line himself up. But he grabs my wrists, pinning them behind my back in just one move. And no matter how hard I try to twist and turn, he doesn’t budge.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I curse, still trying to shove him off.
“What did I tell you about swearing?” He grunts as I feel his tip pressing against my folds. “That only means one thing. You want me to fuck you,” he growls, plunging inside of me, and I can swear he feels even bigger than before.
I want to say something to him—anything—yet my mind instantly goes blank. And all I can feel is him. All I can think about is him. But then I remember him talking to that blonde just minutes ago, and a bitter taste hits the back of my throat. “Get off me. Go back to your little blonde from earlier. Maybe you’ll find someone new to obsess over, and leave me the fuck alone.”
“You’re jealous,” he says, plunging into me—hard, vicious, like pissing me off was his goal all along. I fight again to push him off me, adrenaline and fury twisting into something unrecognizable. I could kill him here and now, but I could also let him fuck me raw right here and now. “Oh, I love it when you fight me. Know why?” his voice carrying a dark seduction.
I don’t even bother to answer, just squirm against him, trying to break free. “Because it’s your kink. You want to feel restrained. You want me to take control. To fuck you raw,” he smirks. “I just heard it in your thoughts.”
“That’s not true,” I spit back. How the fuck does he know that? Panic tightens in my chest, unable to figure outhow the hell he knows what I was just thinking?
“Oh, it is true. I might not be able to read your every thought. But there are bits too loud to be hidden from me,” he says, thrusting so deep it slams me against the sink, the tiles echoing around us.
“You’re just lucky guessing,” I grit out, knowing that’s not possible. Unless he’s a psychic—which I know he’s not. It has to be a fluke.
“I can hear your thoughts, Serena. Not as clearly as I could hear your sister’s.” He lets out a knowing laugh. “Thatperfecthusband of hersis cheating. That’s why she couldn’t keep her eyes off me. She wanted me to fuck her so badly, it was almost pathetic. Not gonna lie, it’s gonna be weird at family dinners.”
I don’t reply because even though I know, he couldn’t hear her, I saw it in her eyes. He’s right—my own sister was eye-fucking him.
“Almost every female in the room wants what you have,” he says, slamming me against the sink again to the point I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. Or maybe I’m just surprised I don’t shatter.
His lips press against my back as he pulls my wrist tighter against his stomach, his hips grinding into my ass like he wants to brand me as his.
“But I’m all yours.” His hand slips inside the top of my dress, gripping one of my breasts, and nearly making me lose my balance. “The way you’re all mine.” He pinches my nipple hard enough to pull a choked scream from my throat.
I want to call him out on his lie, but I know he’s right. I’ve seen the way every-fucking-body looks at him. How everyone wants him. Every woman, maybe even some of the men. Everyone here would kill to be in my place.
His fingers on me suddenly become warmer, more real, the restraint—the slight delicious pain as they dig into my breast with the same force his cock is digging into me.
My heart is pounding as I feel something so evil, so wicked within him. And I don’t hate that part. I want it to consume me. I want it to mark me. To burn me. Any fucked-up thing that proves who I belong to.
