The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

I groaned in agreement because his fingers were back in the dripping pool between my legs. I was so wet that I could feel the trickles of desire slide down the backs of my thighs. The squelching noise Sin’s fingers made as he thrust two, then three fingers brutally deep into my clutching sex was one of the sexiest noises that I’d ever heard.

“Very good, Elle, so wet for me.”

God, how could I be anything but? I was dialed to ten and still cresting. The orgasm that loomed large and dark in the distance was terrifying. I knew it would obliterate me, crash through me and eviscerate everything but the bliss he gave me.

The hard smack of his palm hitting against my sloppy, wet pussy brought me back to him.

“Pay attention, I am going to make you come now,” Sinclair ordered.

He dropped to his knees but even in the lowest position of our quartet, he still emanated power. His face pressed into my left thigh so that he could watch up close the way his fingers began to churn through me, driving me higher and higher.

“Beg us for permission to come,” Sinclair reminded me.

“Please, please, please…” I began to recite, rising from a whisper to a near shriek as I was seized with excruciating tension, suspended in the moment when a glass hits the floor but before it cracks.

“Show us how prettily you can come,” Cage spoke with his teeth against my nipple.

“Come for your Dom,” Laurent demanded.

Simultaneously, the two men bit viciously into my nipples and chewed.

“Come now,” Sinclair’s voice lashed out like the cane against my pussy as he added his thumb, slick with my damp, into my ass.

I rocketed into space. My body lashed hard against my restraints as my mind broke open. I tumbled head first, screaming wildly, into the darkness, distantly aware that Sinclair would catch me when I fell.

Chapter Nine.

“Thank you,” Sinclair said into the early dawn.

We were back in our bed at the hotel the morning after Madame Claire’s, folded together with precision and closeness like a carefully wrapped present. My face was pressed so close to his that I had to go slightly cross-eyed to look into his serious gaze but it was worth it to see the apology there, the need and gratefulness.

After my orgasm, I had passed out briefly and woken to finding myself in Sinclair’s arms as he sat on a velvet loveseat talking to Madame Claire and her sub Dominic about the recent French Presidential election. He had clutched me tighter in recognition of my wakefulness and gently drawn me into the conversation, trying to normalize things after the intense scene. It worked. I’d happily talked about the National Front and the protectionist leanings of Marine le Pen and the relief we all felt that she had not won. Cage had joined us at one point, winking at me roguishly as he sat down across from us. I’d blushed but felt no real awkwardness about the intimacy we had shared. Sinclair touched me continuously, petting my hair, stroking the slope of my cheek and the swell of my lips. Reconfirming our connection, I knew, and it made me warm with success.

I had brought him back to me.

“You don’t ever have to thank me for reminding you that you are safe with me,” I said now, after the first good sleep I had had in four nights. “If anything, I should apologize to you. I thought that I had made it clear that I loved you and the sexual freedom that being a submissive gave me. Clearly, I didn’t do a good enough job of making you feel accepted.”

His arms pressed me closer still. “No, it was through no fault of your own. I let Elena’s spitefulness get to me. The truth is, Willa came across me fucking one of my girlfriend’s bound to my bed when I was in the twelfth grade and laid into me using the same language Elena always has. It was hard for me to believe that a woman I cared about could accept that part of me when the other two could not.”

I made a soft whimper of empathy.

He continued, “I caused you pain. That is unacceptable, especially when I promised you that I would protect you from judgment. I turned right around and judged us myself.” He made a noise of disgust and buried his nose in my hair. “Désolé, ma sirène.”

“You are forgiven,” I said, because I knew he needed to hear it even though I didn’t actually feel the need to do it. “Let’s move on from it, okay? From this day forward, we talk about things that concern us instead of closing each other out.”

He smiled against my cheek. “Look at you, Elle. When you first came to me in Mexico, you were this unsure, timid thing with a deep well of gumption and fierce feminine power that you had no idea how to tap into. Now, you are a siren come into her own.”