Page 151 of Sins of the Hidden

The bedroom door opened and closed with a soft click that somehow rang louder than a gunshot. He stood motionless by the door, watching me squirm against the bed, his eyesdevouring every twitch, every tremor, every desperate arch of my spine. My hips bucked involuntarily as the vibrations pulsed harder, slicking my inner thighs.

The vibrations stopped abruptly, leaving behind a silence so profound it felt like drowning. My flesh throbbed painfully, abandoned at the precipice of release, nerves crying out for completion that didn't come.

"Testing it," he explained, his voice a low growl that scraped along my nerve endings like sandpaper. He strode to the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight as he positioned himself at the edge, close enough that the heat from his body radiated against my skin, but not touching—not yet.

He stood over me, unmoving, watching as I tried to regain control of my breathing. His thumb hovered over his phone screen, a silent threat of what he could do with the slightest pressure.

I managed to sit up, painfully aware of how I must look—flushed, disheveled, pupils blown wide with arousal I didn't want to feel. "I-In front of my parents?"

"They didn't notice."

"They saw something was wrong!" Embarrassment burned across my skin as my voice cracked with frustrated humiliation.

His face lowered until our breaths mingled, his mask brushing against my cheek as he inhaled deeply, scenting the arousal that radiated from my skin.

"Prove you don't want this," he challenged, his eyes burning into mine, demanding honesty. "Tell your body to stop begging for me."

My hips betrayed me, rising toward his touch of their own volition, seeking contact with an urgency that humiliated and thrilled me in equal measure. "Please," the single syllable falling between us like a confession.

The word's ambiguity darkened his gaze, pupils expanding until only a thin rim of gray remained. Without looking away, he tapped his phone screen once, and the vibrator hummed back to life—stronger than before, demanding and relentless against my oversensitized flesh.

"I could stop," his voice ragged. "But you'd miss this more than I would."

His fingers skimmed the delicate lace of my underwear, a teasing friction sending shivers dancing across my hips. Heat bloomed beneath each slow, deliberate stroke, anticipation coiling deep in my core. The vibrator's cool surface pressed harder against my sensitive nerves as he adjusted its position enough to make my thighs jerk and lock around nothing. When he dialed the intensity higher, deep vibrations shot straight to my core, bypassing thought completely.

"Please—" The plea broke from me, raw and desperate, my voice cracking under the weight of want. I arched toward him instinctively as he dialed the vibrations higher still, pleasure tightening fiercely beneath my skin.

"Your parents are downstairs." His whisper sent goosebumps up my arms.

"I—I d-don't—ah!—c-care." Words scattered between gasps as another wave crashed through me. Twenty-eight days since our wedding night. Twenty-eight days without his touch, my skin craving him even as my mind tried to deny it—a "space" that had started as mercy but now felt like punishment. My hips jerked desperately, pressing shamelessly into the unrelenting vibrations, muscles spasming as need spiraled sharply out of control.

V leaned closer, the heat of his body enveloping mine, every breath pulling him deeper into my awareness. He rested one strong hand on my thigh, thumb stroking slow, possessive circles against my skin. The surgical mask concealed most of hisface, but those eyes missed nothing—not the quivering muscles in my thighs, not the sweat beading on my skin, not the desperate arch of my spine as I chased whatever he controlled.

He increased the intensity sharply, drawing out a ragged cry as heat burst through my entire body, muscles contracting. My back bowed sharply off the mattress, a strangled sound tearing raw from my throat. My fingers twisted desperately in the quilt, nails digging into fabric as blinding sensation blurred my senses, spiraling beyond reason. I couldn't tell if I was trying to hold on—or come apart faster.

"M-my God—V—I c-can't—" Nothing coherent made it past my lips—only gasps.

Saliva spilled from the corner of my mouth, hot and wet against my cheek before soaking into cotton beneath me—evidence of my complete surrender to whatever he chose to give or withhold. Another humiliation to add to the growing collection.

V loomed above me, his massive frame blocking out the ceiling light, casting his face in shadow except for those endless dark eyes that never blinked, never wavered. The mask rose and fell with each measured breath as he studied my unraveling with scientific fascination. His shoulders stretched impossibly wide from my vantage point on the bed, leather jacket shifting slightly as he shifted his weight. One hand still held the remote while the other hung at his side, fingers curled loosely around his baseball bat.

"Drooling for me." The observation carried no disgust, only reverent possession. From his height, he consumed every detail of my breakdown—memorizing, treasuring each shameless reaction I couldn't control.

My body convulsed violently around nothing, vision fracturing as pleasure stole breath and reason. I no longer belonged to myself—I answered only to him, to the patterns hecreated with that remote. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, tracking saltwater paths that mingled with spit as my lungs fought for oxygen, leaving me gasping and spent beneath his shadow.

When the shock finally subsided, leaving me hollow and gasping, V watched me with that same clinical detachment, his expression unchanged behind the mask.

And I hated how much I needed it. Needed him. Even now. In that instant, I didn't just belong to him—I belonged to the hunger inside me he'd awakened.

When the tremors finally subsided, leaving me hollow and gasping, he switched off the vibrator with merciless abruptness. The sudden absence left nerves screaming in confusion, still sparking with energy that had nowhere to go. Before breath returned to my lungs, strong hands clamped around my ankles, yanking me toward the edge of the bed with savage efficiency.

The sudden movement left no time for resistance or thought. My upper body sprawled across the mattress while my hips aligned perfectly with the edge, feet barely brushing the floor. The position left nothing hidden, nothing protected—exposed completely for his inspection and use.

V wedged his massive frame between my spread thighs, rough denim scraping already oversensitized flesh. His erection pressed against my core through the fabric, iron-hard and radiating heat. He rocked his hips deliberately, the seam of his jeans rasping against swollen flesh, the friction both punishment and promise.

His fist twisted in my hair, dragging my head back with the kind of control only he could make feel sacred—pain-tipped, reverent, possessive. His other arm braced beside my head, caging me beneath him. His presence consumed everything—the scent of leather and gunpowder filling my lungs, his weightpressing me deeper into the mattress, his breath scorching my neck even through that black surgical mask.

"Twenty-eight days," he whispered into my ear. "Twenty-eight days watching you move through my house. Wearing my ring. Sleeping in our bed. Just out of reach."

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