The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

“Behave,” he warned mildly before continuing in an almost bored tone. “There would be rules, of course.”

He waited but I had the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to respond.

I could hear the smile in his voice when he finally said, “Exactly. You would not speak unless expressly ordered to and when you did, how do you think you would address me?”

“With appropriate respect, sir,” I said.

My voice was breathy and he hadn’t even touched me.

“Very good. I cannot count the things I want to do to you, not least of all because you would blush to your toes to hear me give voice to them.”

I could feel that full-bodied blush, how my blood ricocheted through my veins and my heart knocked brutally against my ribs. Idly, I worried about heart failure.

“Please, tell me,” I whispered hoarsely because I was so filled with desire that even my throat was swollen with it.

He studied me dispassionately for what felt like a long time. The more his gaze cooled, the warmer I grew. I couldn’t think when he looked at me like that, not of Elena or the stress of my upcoming showcase, not of my lifelong insecurities or even my own name. When Sinclair looked at me with those aloof and commanding eyes the color of lightening, my very soul felt electrified.

Finally, he stood up, so close to me that my nose was pressed into the inside of his lower thigh. I breathed deeply, so intoxicated by his smoky, masculine scent that I almost felt high.

His hand lowered heavily to the top of my head and he said, “I would rather show you.”

I let out a breathy little sigh before I could help myself. His hand slid over my crown and threaded through my hair, pulling firmly at the roots until my back arched to release some of the tension. Pain prickled deliciously down my spine. Slowly, he tugged my head back until I was looking up at him. With his other hand, he placed his thumb on my bottom lip, rubbing back and forth until my mouth blossomed open under his touch.

He was so masterfully made, his features so perfectly chiseled that they were almost brutal to look upon, especially now when he loomed over me like the statue of a God. My God. Oh, how I wanted to devote myself to him, venerate him with everything I had.

I swept my tongue along the ridge of his thumb, staring into his eyes through my eyelashes as I daringly took him into my mouth and scraped my teeth across the pad of his digit. His eyes flared.

“This lifestyle is not always about pain and restraint,” he explained. “It is about worship.”

His ability to read my mind no longer surprised me.

“I worship you,” I breathed.

He pulled his thumb from my mouth and drew two fingers tenderly down my cheek before saying, “And I you.”

Without another word, he reached down to pull me into his arms. Cradled securely against his chest, I let myself listen to the beat of his heart as he led me into the bedroom and gently laid me on the bed. Languidly, I watched as he went into the bathroom, reemerging with a bottle of lavender scented massage oil in his hands and the same red scarf that he had bound me with earlier. Warmth pooled between my legs just at the sight of it.

I studied him silently as he straddled my prone body on the bed and gently secured the fabric around my head so that I was blindfolded. I gasped in disappointment when his body left mine once more but he returned to me quickly after plugging his phone into the music system. Glass Animal’s Toes beat sexily from the speakers.

“This is about you, my siren. I control you to discover you, to unlock the secrets of your heart and the hidden desires in that brilliant mind of yours.” His voice was smooth and warm as the massage oil that he heated between his palms and applied to my shoulders.

I hummed with pleasure as he began to knead my neck and chest, my mind empty of everything but the exquisite pressure of his hands against my skin. His fingers moved down my arms to my very fingertips where he released an uncanny amount of tension just by pinching the pads of each digit. After working his way from my stomach to the ends of my feet, he tenderly rolled me onto my stomach and began to caress my back.

A moan built deep in my gut. It was in no way a sexual massage but I felt restless with desire nonetheless. Each press of his strong fingers into my muscles molded me further and further into a creature of his own making, as supple and easily manipulated as clay beneath his touch.

I was mindless, made only of sensation by the time his thumb found the pronounced curve of my bottom. He pressed hard into the muscles there, almost painfully so that I sucked air between my teeth. I wasn’t sure where the massage oil ended and my own wetness began.

“On your knees.”

His voice slithered into my subconscious. I raised my heavy body as quickly as I could, tucking my knees underneath me, arching my back so that my ass was raised with my hands grasping my ankles and my face pressed into the sheets. Cool air drifted deliciously over my overheated flesh.

The slow, arousing massage continued but this time it was punctuated by the sound of his cool voice washing over me. “I remember the first time you displayed your pussy like this for me. You were so wet.” His thumbs dipped down the creas

e and pulled apart my lips to expose my wet, pink core. “I could smell you from across the room.”

I groaned softly into the bed and wriggled, desperate for more stimulation.

He punished me with a swift, brutal spank that left my skin singing out for mercy. His hand squeezed the smarting skin, clenching it in under his strong grip until I whimpered.