Page 90 of The Blood that Binds Us

It consumes all my self-control to not tremble beneath his touch, to hold my ground. “You shouldn’t have put me in that position.”

“Then what position should I put you in, little witch?” He cups the side of my face in his hand and drags his lips across my cheek, to the corner of my mouth. Pausing, seeing if I will refuse him.

You’re drunk,” I say, smelling the honey mead on his breath.

He chuckles once. “Hardly. Just enough to forget that I shouldn’t be feeling this way about you.” Still firmly holding my jaw with one hand, his knuckles lengthen into claws, and he trails a long nail down my bare sternum.

I should run. Shove him away and run far from this place, far from him, but heat feeds my center like timber to a fire.

Sin hooks a nail into the deep neckline at my navel. “I’ve been wanting to rip this off you all night. Consumed with thoughts of what I wanted to do to you after I shredded it from your body.”

I gasp when his hands suddenly collar my neck, tilting my head back as he kisses my throat.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how pretty you’d sing with my tongue inside you,” he murmurs against my jugular.

His words send a storm barreling between my thighs, and even now, with the smell of spiced wine hovering between us, he waits for me to make the next move—to give him some small sign I want this.

Ignoring every instinct screaming for me to bolt out of here, I grab a fistful of his silky hair and yank his head back. “Prove it.”

Faster than I can blink, we’re entwined in a maze of limbs and tongues, my dress hiked up to my hips and my legs wrapped around his waist. My hands act of their own volition, tearing his clothes from his body until only his trousers remain between us. And then he does the unthinkable.

Sin sits me on the velvet cushion of his throne, spreads my knees, and kneels between them.

His lengthened claws dig into the backs of my thighs, his hand just above the dagger still strapped to one of them, and slowly, he swirls his tongue through my wetness. I shove my hands into his hair as he tastes me in long strokes, and a strangled cry falls from my lips when he slips his tongue inside. Wicked pleasure rocks through me, sending my thighs quivering around him as I watch as the Black Art laps at my cunt.

Seated in his throne.

One strappy heeled shoe hooked over his shoulder.

Where Sin struggles with words, he more than makes up for it with his actions. And if thrusting his tongue inside me while he kneels at my feet is his way of apologizing, I’d let the man drive a stake through my heart.

My moans threaten to shatter the windows behind us as he consumes every inch of my neediness, drinking me in like my pussy is the sweetest wine he’s ever tasted. I twist my fingers in his hair, his dark head bobbing between my thighs, his long nails still firmly gripping the undersides of my legs. “Sin,” I choke out, desperately aware of howemptyI am.

He pulls back enough to raise his eyes to mine, a feral smile crossing his lips. In lightning speed, Sin swipes the dagger from my thigh. He flips the blade in his hand and presses the handle against my opening, his irises burning with unbridled need. “Do you want more, love?” he asks, swirling the hilt around my center.

My legs jerk closed in reflex, pinning his arm between them. Sin has placed a blade to my throat before, butthisis different. The thought of him fucking me with the hilt of my own knife paralyzes me with fear, my thighs going rigid as if the brush of the cool hilt electrocuted me into permanent stillness.

And my pussy weeps in response.

“Spread your legs.Now,” he adds when I hesitate.

Swallowing my fear, I allow my knees to slowly fall apart.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes against my delicate skin. “Now listen very carefully, Wren. I’m going to fuck you with your dagger so that the next time you think of pulling it on me, you’ll remember how I made you come all over it.”

Fucking hell.

“Tell me to stop if that’s not what you want, love,” he murmurs, dragging his nose across my thigh, his light scruff pricking my skin.

Absolutely not. Tell him to stop. Goddess above, tell him!

Fuck.

I tilt my hips towards him and barely glimpse the ravenous look on his face before he plunges the hilt inside me, and my eyes roll deep in my head. The sounds of my wetness rival my moans as he begins to move it in and out of me, the hilt becoming slicker as my pussy invites it inside like an old friend.

“Just like that, Wren.Fuck,you’re taking it so well.”

He pumps the dagger inside me faster, and with his other hand, strokes my clit in small circles, sending a pleasure as dark and ancient as the gods pulsing through me.

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