Page 143 of Sin Like the Devil

Her tattooed arms are limp at her sides. That won’t do. I seize her wrists, above raw abrasions inflicted by zip ties and hand-carved letters, to pin her arms above her. My body knows where to go without needing a map.

Already, my cock is pressed up against her entrance. I nudge it inside a small amount before withdrawing and swirling the head around her moisture again. Each rotation causes her to thrust upwards, a silent beg for more.

“Please,” she whines.

“Not until you say it.”

“Say what?” Her temper explodes. “That you’re a cruel bastard for making me want this?”

There she is.

My furious hellhound.

“No. Say that you want me, the man you claim to hate so fucking much, to fill this sweet cunt up to the brim.”

Ripley hisses in frustration as I push inside her again, a tiny bit farther, then withdraw. Such exquisite torture. I’m feeling the pressure already, but I won’t relent. Not until she does.

“I told you to beg me, Ripley. Do it now.”

When she curses under her breath, I move one hand lower to press against her wounded wrist. The lash of pain soon loosens her tongue, but I squeeze hard for good measure.

“Please!” Ripley gasps.

“Yes?”

“Please… fuck me, Xander. I’m begging you to fuck me. I need you.”

How odd it is to be needed.

Satisfied, I surge into her in one fast pump. She takes my full length, but it’s a snug fit. Her yelp takes me back to the first night I forced her to beg. Oh, how she wailed when I finally let her fall apart.

I retreat fast then thrust back inside, not giving her even a moment to catch her breath. Watching her blood-streaked tits bounce with each movement is close to godliness. There’s no better sight than her submission.

Each time my hips surge and I slam back into her, Ripley moans in such agonising ecstasy. The animalistic sounds burst free, unable to be suppressed for a second longer. She can no longer deny that she wants this.

Wants me. Wants us.

Do I want the same?

CHAPTER 23

RIPLEY

LOVE YOU BETTER – THE HAUNT

I’m not sure where my pleasure ends and my hatred for the man gifting it to me begins. All I know is that if he dares to stop right now, I’ll surely lose my mind. Analysing what a mistake this is can come after he’s fucked me senseless.

I’m restrained tightly by his iron-clad grip and can feel the protest of my wounded wrists. It hasn’t entered Xander’s awareness. Or perhaps it has, and he simply doesn’t care enough to ease up. It’s hard to tell with the iceman.

Right now, he isn’t that man at all.

This creature is all fury and flames.

My body is nothing more to him than the scorched earth beneath his feet. He’ll trample me underfoot to get what he wants. In this frenzied state, I’d probably thank him for it. I’m all sensation, blindly grasping for any opportunity for relief.

His midnight-blue eyes have descended into inky blackness. Each stroke he inflicts makes his jaw tense and wiry muscles spasm. He’s built similarly to Raine, lean and agile, but still hiding significant strength. Strength that is marred by scars and pain.

I want to feel guilty. I want to stop this. Walk away. Never look back. Take my rightful place in Raine’s hospital room. But selfishness is a powerful motivator, and after what Lennox did, I need this.

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