Page 71 of Sin Like the Devil

Each shift of her writhing limbs beneath me sends blood pumping to my crotch. Apparently, my dick didn’t get the memo that we’re supposed to hate this whore. Not enjoy the feel of her battling to escape.

Antagonising her shouldn’t be so goddamn hot. I have the perfect opportunity to choke the life from her lungs right here in the mud. There are no guards. And I don’t give a fuck about the CCTV cameras positioned on the perimeter fence.

What can they do to me now?

I’ve already lost everything.

“Just stop,” she cries angrily. “If you’re going to kill me, do it. Fucking do it, Nox!”

“Why? Because you think that you deserve it?”

“Yes!”

With that confession, she stills. Her anger is fizzling out. I can see the despair I found her drowning in returning. Spreading with each second she spends trapped in the dirt.

No. I don’t want her defeated.

Not anymore.

I want her so enraged, she can’t breathe without thinking of her hatred for me. She wants to fade away? I won’t fucking let her. She doesn’t get to escape so easily. Her punishment is living with her own self-loathing.

Every bit of rational thought flies from my mind. With my pelvis pinning her to the slick ground, I shove her wrists above her head then trap them there. Utterly exposed, she can’t stop my approach.

“Death would be too easy for you,” I croon. “Torturing you will be far sweeter.”

She blinks rapidly, a brief, fleeting whisper of delicious fear finally entering her gaze. Fanning those flames, I decide to hell with it. My lips slam against hers, swallowing her sounds of protest.

If this is the only way to truly hurt her, I’ll cross the invisible line between us. But at the first touch, any thought of revenge flies out of my mind.

Fuck. Me.

I never expected her lips to be velvet soft and laced with such tantalising sweetness that I lose all sight of my plan. My need to destroy her by any means necessary is overtaken by the heat suddenly pumping through my veins.

She’s rigid against my touch. That escaping fury comes roaring back as her teeth clamp down on my bottom lip, sinking in deep enough to break the skin. I rear back with a sharp hiss.

“Y-You…” Ripley splutters. “How dare you?—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Crashing my mouth back on hers, I don’t know if I’m punishing her or myself. This is just about hurting her, right? I know she hates me. I know my touch has to be damn repulsive to her. This is the only way to make her break.

So why the ever-loving fuck does her tiny, perfectly curved body feel so good against mine? Why do I want her to scream, shout, bite and kick? Why do I want her hatred and not her defeat?

Her sounds of protest die out. I’m not sure if I imagine the moan emanating from her throat. I’m not sure if I imagine the way it makes my heart pound, cock twitch, and skin prickle with arousal either.

Is the fucking bitch is enjoying this?

Am I enjoying this?

I’m not sure when her mouth begins to move against mine. Hard. Wet. Undeniably passionate. Lips sliding in a spiteful rhythm, she kisses me like she hopes to torture the truth out of me.

Hips grinding, I thrust into her core, seeking any amount of friction against the painful pressure gathering in my cock. Fuck, the way I want to fill her up and hear every last vindictive word spew from her lips as I do. I want her to despise how much she loves the feel of my cock inside her.

Shoving my tongue into her mouth, I relish in the way she responds. Enraged and thrashing. Invading my mouth with the same wrath that’s fuelled the furious dance we’ve spent the last year locked in.

She’s fighting it with every second our mouths are locked, but that doesn’t stop her hips from lifting to press into mine. The woman is grinding against me. Pressing her core into my cock, silently pleading for more. That realisation shatters my lusty haze.

I abruptly break the kiss. “What are you doing?”

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