The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

“No. If you don’t want to be a part of this lifestyle, then Cage is right, it’s your decision to make and that’s fine. I need this though. I need the submission, to be in the hands of a man who will take me through my darkest desires with dominance and calm. If you can’t be there for me, then I need to find someone else to take care of those desires.”

His body was suddenly pressed to mine, the coolness of his suit against my skin only serving to further fuel my flushed body.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” I whispered as I strained to move closer to him.

It was also an empty threat. I would never let another man handle me the way Sinclair did. At least, not without him there.

He was quiet for a long minute.

I focused on breathing in tandem with him, craving even that small harmony.

“Do not make me do this,” he began, and the pit of my stomach fell out like a false bottom, “unless you truly desire it.”

My relief was so acute that I slumped against the hard wooden cross.

“Please,” I begged.

Immediately, a new tension overtook him. I shivered at the feel of his entire body hardening with resolve and desire against my pliant flesh. He tilted his head down so that he could speak against my ear.

“You want to be punished before these people, don’t you, my siren? You want them to witness my claiming of this gorgeous body.” His hand swept down the curve of my hip and roughly squeezed my bottom.

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Good girl,” he practically purred before he stepped away from me, leaving my skin cold but my insides burning with anticipation.

“You remember your safe word?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me.”

“Heartbeat.”

My senses were heightened by my lack of vision, pressed up against the wall as I was, and coupled with my knowledge of the dozen other inhabitants of the room, I was already trembling with need. It also comforted, the idea of being claimed before strangers and a small part of me knew it was because he hadn’t yet claimed me in New York.

I wanted everyone to know that this magnificent man owned me.

His breath whispered against my ear. “Are you ready, siren?”

“Yes, sir.”

His response was to drag the tip of the bright red cane I had seen earlier down the curve of my cheek, under my neck and down my spine until it tickled the crevice between my ass cheeks. He paused there, sliding the end back and forth, deeper and deeper until it dragged achingly slow through my wet folds.

“So wet for me already,” he noted, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “You always did like the thought of having an audience, didn’t you? The room service waiter in Mexico, the door open to your hall so that anyone could see you kneeling before me in Cosima’s apartment. So beautiful, so eager for my cock. You want everyone to see what a good girl you are for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I breathed, barely audible because I was so focused on the throbbing under the tip of that leather strap.

“Louder, let everyone hear you,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir, I want everyone to see what a good girl I am for you,” I said, my words ending on a ragged moan as Sinclair brought the cane up and back down hard across the swell of my right ass cheek.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth as the sting deepened and rushed like a river through a broken dam down to my sex.

He didn’t stop.

The cane striped my ass, upper thighs and the outside of my sex in a continuous rhythm that made me rock and sound like an instrument under his beating hand. The pain was bright at first and then sunk to my very bones where it pulsed hotly, building and building to a crescendo that I knew would break me into pieces. There were no thoughts in my head, no words. Instead the hypnotic crack of the whip, the bass-like moans from deep in my belly and the harsh sound of Sinclair’s excited breathing played behind my closed lids like a symphony of colors, red, black and grey strobe lights that lulled me into sub space.

My legs were pulled so far apart that my sex was wide open for the bite of the cane. His cadence changed. It grew faster, sharper still, with an emphasis on the wet slick of my inner thighs. The edge of the hard leather caught the lips of my sex and made me jerk hard against the cross.

“Sir,” I cried out as my legs trembled in their straps.

I needed something more, something to shatter me so that he could reform me, reclaim and forgive me for pushing him over the edge.