Page 1 of Sinner's Vows

1

DOMINIC

I open the door, step inside, and let my eyes adjust to the darkened room. Center stage is a four-poster bed, covered in black satin. On top lies a woman, spread-eagled and strapped to the four wooden bed posts.

She’s been waiting. Good. Just lying here, open to nothing but meditation, is the best place for her to be before we start. I bet she’s been visualizing everything I’m going to do to her, already ramping up her need. As always, they’ve set the scene exactly as I instructed. Only the best satin sheets and the softest hemp Shibari rope from Japan to tie her down with—I want her to be as comfortable as possible.

As the door closes quietly behind me, she’ll be aware of my arrival, what with her other senses heightened seeing how she’s also blindfolded. For a moment, I stand and just breathe. Even this she’ll hear in detail, tuning in with anticipation to every sound I make.

When I don’t move, she strains against the inch of space she has, her limbs shifting the black satin sheet covering her naked body.

Good. Nice and tight. They followed my instructions to the letter.

I take in a few deep breaths, on a knife’s edge. This is what she wanted, what she needs, and now I tilt towards the slow and sensual, focusing on her needs all the way, serving. Because this isn’t about me. It’s for me, too, but my needs are met by meeting hers. For a moment, I close my eyes and shut the doors in my mind. Doors leading to places I don’t want to go when I’m with her.

My steps sound quietly over the hardwood floor as I make my way to the console table where my items are laid out. The consent form. I pick it up and scan through it, making mental notes along. Once done, I reach for the matches, take one out, and strike it into a hot flame.

A match can burn twice. First in flame and then on flesh, during those last seconds before it turns to ash. I push the thought away as the mixed scent of sulphur and phosphorus drifts up when I light the row of candles standing sentinel along the wall. They are slightly scented, nothing overpowering but more like a warmth of clean linen with a hint of pine.

I take two and carry them over to the nightstands flanking the bed. As I put down the first one, she shifts, aware of my every move, her nostrils flaring as the new scent fills the space. I round the bed and place the other candle down. I’m right there by her hand, and when I do nothing more, she grapples for the rope and pulls it taut against the bedpost.

It’s her first real sign of distress, that her trust in me might be wavering. If only she knew what I am capable of.

I reach for her inner arm in a tender touch.

“Easy, baby,” I murmur to reassure her, leaving my hand there so my warmth can sink into her skin and calm her. Her fist clutches the rope and battles the restraint. “Deep breaths.” I wait until she inhales long, slow breaths, exhales them just as slowly,and her chest rises and falls in a steady, regular rhythm. It would help if I removed the gag, but it’s too early in the evening for that. “Good girl. Just like that.”

It’s a waiting game, and once she’s settled, I glide my fingers over her arm to her hand and for a moment caress her fingers. She’s let go of the rope, her grip relaxed, and as I stroke her gently, lacing our digits, sliding them together, seducing her with the smallest of touches, she traps my hand with her own. It isn’t a desperate hold, more like a lover’s touch, and a smile toys on my lips as I rub a slow circle with my thumb in the heart of her palm.

A small foundation of trust is here. Now to build on it. I study her face in the flickering candlelight. I don’t know this woman. We haven’t had each other before, but Luca sure knows how to deliver. She’s beautiful—darker skin with smooth, soft cheeks and plump lips circling the gag, black hair that tumbles loose over the satin pillow, its length seeming to melt into the fabric.

My gaze glides lower, to the elegant column of her neck, exposed and so delicate. It won’t take much?—

Fuck. This isn’t why I’m here. I close my eyes as my mind slips and I know I’ve left it too long. I need this more than she does—she isn’t the only one trying to reconnect with a part of herself that’s buried under debris.

Shut the door, Dominic. Just fucking shut it.

With a measured exhale, tension seeps from my body, cleansing my mind.

As I open my eyes, my gaze dips to her chest. With the slightest move, the satin slips and teases her nipples into hard peaks, and they are etched out against the sheet.

I bet she’s ready for me. Wet and willing. It would be as much her pleasure as mine to rip the sheet off her body and fuck her right now, but I’ve hardly started. I need this. The slow seduction. The tenderness and care. Having echoes oftouch reverberating into her darkest parts, letting every sensory input turn as tight as the spring in her can go. When she finally orgasms, it would feel like a meteorite burning through the ozone layer to Earth. Shattering with such intensity that for weeks, she’d think of nothing else.

And for a few hours tonight, I will think of nothing else but getting her there. Fuck knows, I need my thoughts channeled into something positive, use my hands to gently weave every nerve ending in her body into bliss and not pain. Give her pleasure, and in the process, drain out the bottled-up poison in me.

I let go of her hand and stretch my fingers, releasing tension in all of them except my left-hand pinkie, which stays crooked. The woman arches her back at the missing connection, so I graze her cheek with a knuckle.

“Soon.”

But it’s a lie.

This is a test of her willpower just as much as mine. She can come at any time, whatever her mind dictates. Some women can orgasm through thought alone, and if she’s one of those, my purpose here would be to arrest her mind so she only comes on my command.

If she isn’t one of those women, I’m here to guide her there.

I take my time to set up the rest of the room, putting the remaining candles in place and then turning on the sound system. It’s a slow, heavy baseline, blended with other beats which only lure you into the most primal of rhythms.

Once everything is in place, my mind is in the right space, too, and I turn to her. In the flickering glow of all the candles, her breathing syncs with the music. It’s a sight I relish like a delectable treat. The beats vibrate through my body as I palm my erection. Soon.

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