I whimpered.
His burning eyes shot to mine in the mirror and the fierce desire in them almost brought me to my knees.
“Stop.” His voice lashed out across the room and hit me like a whip.
My hand increased its frenzied movements. I was too close to stop now.
“I said,” he repeated in that glacial, exacting voice that never failed to make me wet, “stop.”
My hand trembled as I took it away and placed it on the sink. I panted as I stared at him in the mirror, waiting for him to direct me.
His lips were pursed into a flat line and his fists curled before he put them in his pockets. “Go to bed, Giselle.”
My heart dropped to the wood floor with an audible splat as he turned and left. The steam had disappeared through the open door and the cold apartment air grated goose bumps into my skin. I shivered and pulled a towel from the rack to wrap around my body.
Whatever hope I might have harbored that he would be waiting for me in my bedroom was crushed when I slunk into the dark room and found it cold and empty. Tears of humiliation stung my eyes and made my nose tickle.
I ditched the towel and lay on the duvet, letting the cold air bring my lava filled body back down from its near eruption.
I was an idiot to be caught touching myself with Sinclair in the apartment. Whatever opportunity I may have had to be friends with him had obviously gone out the door with my inappropriate behavior. What had I been expecting? Did I really think he would suddenly succumb to nefarious desire and drag me into the bedroom like a Neanderthal and have his wicked way with me? This wasn’t a romance novel and Sinclair was certainly no caveman.
My eyes shot open at the clack of ice hitting ice in a glass.
Sinclair stood framed in the door and he maintained eye contact with me as he made his way to the high backed chair across from my bed. He sat down, planted one foot a top the opposite knee and took a sip of his whiskey.
I blinked.
He looked entirely comfortable sitting across from me, like a spectator at a movie or, more likely, like a man waiting for the show at a strip club.
“By all means,” his voice was thicker than the steam from the bathroom, warmer than the cold air assaulting my bare skin, “continue.”
My breath streamed out through my slack mouth. Could I do this? Should I do this? Touch myself in front of the man who was dating my sister?
But you have done this, the villainous voice inside me reminded, you’ve done this with Sinclair many, many times before. And besides, you want to.
Still, I hesitated, my mind whirring louder than my latent desire.
“Don’t make me tell you again.” Sinclair’s voice wrapped firm fingers around my flailing thoughts and carefully bound them, gagged them. “Touch that pretty pussy for me, Giselle. I want to see you come.”
A feathery moan escaped me and my hand found my still damp sex without hesitation. I watched his stern face as I twirled one finger around my clit, not quite touching it, before moving down to my entrance to do the same thing. His jaw ticked and I knew that teasing myself was teasing him even more. I feathered both hands over my inner thighs, tensing at the resulting tingle at my core and sighed deeply.
“Spread your legs wider for me.”
I pushed them further with my palms and ran my fingers over my sex to open myself for him.
“Good girl,” he crooned. “Do you remember the night I spanked you? Your ass was a beautiful shade of pink and you begged me to take you, to ease the throbbing in your sweet little pussy.”
His words sprinted like a brush fire across my skin, lighting the tiny hairs all over my body until I was scorched and completely bare. My eyes fell closed at the intensity.
“Open those eyes, siren. I want to watch my voice make you cum.”
I shuddered and pried my eyes open. His blue gaze still blazed but his mouth was softened by a small smile that warmed my heart.
“Sinclair,” I breathed restlessly, searching for the last component to trigger my release.
He stood up, drained his glass and made his way to my bedside. Placing his cold glass over my bare navel, I shivered at its contrast to my feverish skin and held my breath as he leaned over me, bracing himself on one hand beside my left cheek.
“This is the last time, ma petite voleuse.” He spoke just above my lips, the words slipping into my mouth on his warm breath. “So make it a good one.”