The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

Sinclair toed off his beautiful leather loafers and on some strange impulse, I ducked down to grab them, thinking to put them in the closet with the rest of the shoes but Sinclair’s hand on the top of my head froze me in a crouch. My body hummed under his touch.

“What are you doing?” His voice was liquid and when I looked up into his face, it was taut with desire.

I swallowed convulsively. “I thought I would put your shoes away.” I laughed nervously. “I actually don’t have a clue.”

“I have to disagree with you on that. You seem to know exactly what you’re doing.”

My heart clipped briskly against my ribs and I licked my lips, wondering if maybe I did know what I was doing, if I had subconsciously known how being on my knees before him would affect him. I shifted from my crouch to my knees and sat down on my heels, spreading my legs slightly and placing my hands demurely before me. My heart beat so quickly it fluttered, a hummingbird knocking at my pulse points. My hair fell in a soft curtain around my face as I tilted my gaze to the floor. I knew how I looked sitting like that, because I had practiced the traditional submissive pose in the mirror in preparation for tonight.

It was astonishing to me that I could enjoy being so bold, taunting him as I just had, and yet so deeply crave my submission to him. Six months ago, I hadn’t known anything beyond the bounds of sexual abuse and timid sexuality. Now, I felt like a live wire, still beneath the plastic coating but thrumming always with a vibrant sensuality.

His sharp intake of breath filled me with triumph.

“Yes, siren, I think you know exactly what you are doing.”

His hand slipped from the top of my head, down the side of my cheek to grasp my chin and raise it gently to meet his gaze. “I am in a shockingly good mood, so I am going to give you a choice. You can get up, hang up my coat and lead me into the kitchen where we can continue the night as if we were on our first real date, with all the sweetness and awkwardness that accompanies that…” He paused and his eyes glittered as his hand sunk deep into my hair to tilt my head back almost brutally. “Or, you can take me between those sweet lips like you’ve been wanting to do for weeks. I think you missed pleasing me almost more than I missed the feel of your wet mouth around my cock.”

I moaned, both shocked and overwhelmed by his words. My body was already changing, my muscles melting into pliability, ready to mold themselves into whatever position he desired. Saliva flooded my mouth, moisture pooled between my legs and my nipples furled atop my heavy breasts. In two sentences, Sinclair had turned me on more than anything else ever had.

“Tell me what you want.”

I wanted to moan again but I knew he loved the words. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Who do you want me to be?”

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant but one look in his eyes showed me the dominant caged there, yearning for release even as he gave me the keys to the lock.

I hadn’t planned on starting the evening this way but I should have known we wouldn’t be able to resist. It had been too long since our last night together and even though we had only ever been together sexually for one week, my body was trained to respond to his like this. More than that, I wanted his dominance and control because they were intrinsically married to my power and pleasure.

“You,” I said firmly. “My Sinclair.”

His hand clenched in my hair and his nostrils flared as the Dom was unleashed. “Very well. Clasp your hands behind your back. You may only use your mouth.”

I threaded my fingers together at the base of my spine obediently while he undid the buckle of his leather belt and lowered his zipper. I was already panting. The rough sound of the zipper was like a physical caress against my overheated flesh and I shuddered when his hand disappeared within his loosened slacks to reappear with my prize.

He was already magnificently hard. The sight of his swollen flesh within his fist, slowly stroking, made me whimper.

“So eager,” he murmured. “I’ve dreamt of you, Elle, exactly like this. I love knowing that I put that flush on your creamy skin, that you’re wet just sitting like that for me, waiting for me to touch you. I love knowing that even this,” his fingers trailed from the edge of my jaw to the hollow of my collarbone, “turns you on. You want me with every breath you take.”

He stepped closer until he was almost brushing my lips. A bead of moisture adorned his crown and I licked my lips unconsciously. My tongue caught the edge of his flesh, the salty taste of his skin making me moan. He brushed the tip of his erection against my open lips, painting them with his arousal like lipstick. When I tried to take him into my mouth he pulled back, stroking himself faster now but still controlled.

“Please,” I breathed, embarrassed by my supplication until I saw his hand stutter mid-movement.

He stopped stroking, letting his hands fall to his sides so that I could take control of his pleasure. I let out a breathy little sigh and nuzzled the hot flesh with my cheek. I drew my nose down his long length before taking one of his silky balls into my mouth. I rolled my tongue around it, humming with pleasure as I did so.

My sex was dripping down my open thighs to the cold floor beneath my knees and the front door to my apartment was still slightly open two feet behind me. Someone could catch me like that, wanton and exposed.

“Anyone could come in and find you like this,” Sinclair rasped, reading my mind as only he could. His hands threaded through my hair, pulling slightly but not manipulating the movement of my lips across his shaft. “But you wouldn’t stop, would you?”

I groaned deeply, taking him between my lips, into the very back of my throat in answer.

His hands tightened in my hair, forcibly pulling me off his cock with a popping sound so that I was forced to look up at him from a painful angle. He was so tall, towering over me with a dark gleam in his eyes that thrilled me.

“I want you to get up and go into the kitchen. Take off all of your clothes and wait for me in front of the balcony doors,” he directed, his clipped, cool words trailing across my skin like ice.

I hesitated, old habits overriding my instinctive desire to obey.

“You wanted your Sinclair, Elle,” he reminded me. “You only have to say stop to make it all end.”