Page 62 of Make Me A Sinner
My mouth suddenly goes dry, and I become as wild an animal as he is, letting the pleasure sneak in at maximum limit, chasing it with every move, shattering with every breath.
Just when I feel ragged, like I’ve returned to something primal, his voice beckons in my ear. “Look in the mirror.”
And I do, even if, when I first open my eyes to look, everything’s a blur around us, but then the image clears and I see a large silhouette dominating me—in every sense of the world. I seeus. “Look how beautiful you are with me inside you.” His lips brush my collarbone, and he kisses me so hard that I know he’s leaving a mark. “So fucking perfect when you take me,” he says, and another mark follows. Then another. And another. Until I start to wonder if my hair is long enough to hide them so that people won’t start staring when we return to the party.
“Set,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, calling him to my lips. And he doesn’t wait to come to me. He kisses me so fiercely, I could climax from that alone.
I purr into his mouth, letting him know what he’s really doing to me. How beautifully he’s ruining me. I can’t begin to understand how this happened, because he didn’t even give me a single answer to my questions. I should still be pissed off at him. But right now it’s not about thinking. It’s about feeling. And what I feel when I’m with him doesn’t compare to anything else in this world.
I hear him groan in frustration, tugging at my dress. I can feel he wants to turn me around so he can properly taste my lips, buthe knows he can’t right now. At least not without hurting me. So he settles for trailing his hand from my breast to my neck, like he’s mapping every inch of me.
He squeezes gently at first, giving me time to adjust my almost nonexistent breathing to his thrusts. But then he pushes harder. And harder. His grip tightens, growing more intense, until I feel like I’m about to run out of air. Still, I don’t fight it. The feeling’s so overwhelming, so overpowering that my eyes close, and I feel only one thing. Him. He’s everywhere. In my senses, my body, my mind. His presence is so strong that it merges with my own, and I try to fight him a few times—just to remind myself I’m still alive.
His grip loosens just enough for me to take a breath. Then he’s draining the life out of me again, his cock pounding into me and doing serious damage to my internal organs.
I just pray I’ll still be able to walk when he’s done with me, because somehow, we still have to make it out of here.
Suddenly, everything is becoming too much. Too much of him. Too much pleasure. Too much pain. Too much fire burning inside of me.
My core clenches so powerfully, it almost knocks me unconscious. I feel myself slipping between his fingers, my body turning into goo in his arms, and reality is replaced by a place where only he and I exist.
“Come back to me, Serena, I’m not done with you,” he says, and my vision clears to see us back in the mirror. His grip is lighter now, but the way my walls swallow him whole isn’t. The pleasure takes a different high. And my body shudders so hard I can’t stop panting. I’m moaning so loud that I fear anyone outside the door might hear us. I just can’t control myself. Can’t stop the madness from taking hold. I break from his embrace, my forehead pressed against the mirror, trying to withstand the electric pleasure tearing through my veins.
My body’s going into some kind of overdrive when I hear a knock at the door. Fuck. Everyone’s gonna know we’ve been having sex in the bathroom. They’ll probably be lined up outside the door when we try to leave. Panic surges through me. But so does the adrenaline and another orgasm rips through me—so powerful this time, I can barely keep my mouth shut.
“Scream, my name. Let everyone know you belong to me.”
“Are you out of your mind? We’re at a damn party,” I snap, knowing full well it doesn’t faze him. If anything, it only makes him wish for it harder.
Only makes him push me harder.
“I am out of my damn mind. You drive me fucking insane, and I love every single second of it.” He thrusts deeper and rougher, my stomach hitting the sink loud enough to make everything in the cabinet below clatter.
There’s no way out of this. My moans are turning into hushed screams and indecipherable words. Until they shape into his name. “Set….Set…” I keep repeating it until my feet give out, my heels wobbling like drumsticks, and the orgasm tearing through me makes my senses blur, and turns my brain to mush.
“Louder,” he roars, driving into me, holding back his release until I say it. And I can’t deny him. I scream his name louder, fiercer than a few moments ago, until the letters echo on the tiles. SET—the only name burned into my mind.
Only then do I feel him spill inside of me, the heat of his release spreading between my thighs.
I barely manage to straighten up and clean myself before the embarrassment hits me again. Everybody must’ve heard what happened here. That’s it. I’m staying in here until the party’s over and everyone’s gone.
But Set, of course, sees things differently. “Breathe. You look like you’re about to have a panic attack. And I’m not letting that happen. But I could consider giving you another orgasm.”
I instantly take a step back. “I really will have a panic attack when I have to face everyone at the party and they’ll know we had sex in the bathroom.”
“Get yourself together. They won’t know. There are plenty of other bathrooms here. And I doubt anyone was listening at the door. The music’s loud enough to cover our voices. But to ease your mind, I’ll walk out of here first.”
“I’ll just hide in the toilet…. for the rest of my life.”
“Serena…” Set warns, as if he knows I could be capable of doing that. “You’ve got ten minutes. Then I’m coming back and we'll go for a repeat,” he says, looking straight at me, his eyes making it clear he’s not joking. Neither my body nor my conscience could handle a repeat, so I just nod and glance in the mirror, trying to assess how ruined my makeup really is. My cheeks are red enough to show through the foundation. And what gets me most is that as I look at Set, he doesn’t seem to have even a single hair out of place.
Ugh, I hate him for being so perfect because it makes me fall even more for everything else he does.
“Ten minutes, Serena,” he reminds me, like he’s certain I won’t follow through, then walks out to the bathroom door, just as I lock myself inside one of the stalls. I just hope enough people come in to forget I wasn’t with the one who just stepped through the door.
I still can’t believe we had sex in here, yet the shaking in my legs makes it very real. So does the tension in my head as I think about going back to the party.
Before I know it, my ten minutes are almost up, and I know he’ll come back in here for me.
