“Would it hurt if I pinched it, do you think?”
Sinclair flinched as I did so and my back arched steeply at the sharp swell of pleasure that arrowed up my spine.
“Do you want to see my fingers inside of me?” I asked, trying to channel what Sinclair might order me to do.
It wasn’t the same as his commanding presence but I enjoyed the thrill of playing with a predator, the danger I was knowingly putting myself in. Prey could only dance so long before a true animal before they gave into their nature and took.
At least, that was what I was banking on.
My lids shifted to half-mast matching Sinclair’s hooded gaze as I stared intently at the fingers playing over my wet core.
“I need you,” I panted.
He jerked slightly and I knew I had him, just one more little push…
The mechanical vibration of a cell phone cut through the room, bringing us both to a complete halt. We both stopped breathing and looked over at the phone buzzing away on the nightstand.
Sinclair was the first to move, swiftly walking to the phone and answering in a clipped voice. He didn’t look at me as he dived into a rapid-fire French exchange and moved out of the bedroom into the living area of the suite.
I sat in the chair for a long moment while I listened absently to the exchange. My mind refused to acknowledge that Sinclair didn’t want me. He did. I had never doubted that, not through any of the turmoil we had been through. Yet, now he denied himself and me what we needed?
Robotically, I got ready for bed, letting muscle memory and habit guide me through brushing my teeth and moisturizing before I slipped beneath the covers and turned off the lamp beside my bed. I stared into the darkness for a long time, well after Sinclair finished his phone call and hung up.
Eventually, he came back, stared at my back for a few minutes, and then got into bed. He rolled into me immediately, tucking me tightly into his body so that we were pressed inch for inch, front to back.
“My love for you is bigger than the world,” he murmured into my ear after he pushed my hair away from my neck. “I love you more than my need to dominante.”
He thought I was asleep, obviously, so I tried to keep my body from going hard with shock and then soft with relief. It wasn’t me he was disgusted by but himself. I should have known that and it irritated me that I was so slow on the uptake when he had been struggling with his sexual deviancy for years before he met me. Now that I knew what the problem was, there was no way in hell I would let it defeat us, not when I finally had the love of my Frenchman after months of longing.
Chapter Eight.
The next morning I was up before Sinclair and I took immediate advantage of the fact. Normally, I wouldn’t breach his privacy so flagrantly and I had a momentary pang of guilt as I checked his phone for any evidence of contact with my sister and his ex-girlfriend. Elena was the only person I knew who had the power to turn Sinclair against himself like he had last night so I followed my gut and was rewarded when I found an email from her in his inbox.
Rage ignited like a bonfire in my belly, rushing through my blood until it had burned everything clean and clear.
She was officially a bitch.
I didn’t care how badly she might have belittled me, but subjecting her lover, former or current, to her unfair biases was absolutely not okay.
I worried that the crushing force of my fury would wake up Sinclair, so I carefully closed down his phone and lay in bed beside him as I struggled to digest the news. In a way, it made me feel better to know that at least I hadn’t done something to turn Sinclair away but at the same time, I was disappointed that he hadn’t shared the email with me so that we could talk through it. If our situation had been reversed, he would have expected, no demanded, that from me.
Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed over to his computer and fired up the search engine. Before our one night together at Cosima’s apartment, I had done a bunch of research on BDSM but I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. The small taste that I’d had of the power dynamic was addictive. It was more than just my attraction to Sinclair that had wooed me, it was the idea of being under his control. The messy mass of desires, shame, fear and power that made up my complicated sexuality was tamed by the skilled touch of Dom Sinclair. My traumatic history with Christopher also ceased to exist when I was under Sin’s spell. These were things that I refused to give up, especially when it was Elena’s influence and not his desire was the driving force behind his sudden need to live vanilla.