Page 152 of Sins of the Hidden

The movement of his hips grew more demanding, more insistent. The rough denim created a maddening friction against my most sensitive areas with each thrust, nerve endings firing wildly. His grip tightened in my hair, scalp burning as my spine arched at his command.

"Every night," he continued, voice dropping to that register that bypassed rational thought and drove straight into primal need, "I thought about this. About spreading you open. About making you take every inch. About reminding you exactly who you belong to."

His free hand slid beneath my shirt, palm covering my breast through thin cotton. Calluses caught and dragged across sensitive skin, nipple pebbling instantly against his rough palm. My jaw ground shut under the pressure of holding back sounds threatening to escape, acutely aware of voices drifting up from downstairs.

"V," my hips pushed back against the rigid outline of his arousal, seeking relief from the emptiness that yawned within me. "P-please."

"Please what?" His hips pressed deliberately against mine, the heavy ridge of his arousal dragging exquisitely along my sensitive flesh. "Tell me exactly what you need, wife."

I couldn't meet his eyes, shame and desire warring for dominance. My knees pressed together, hands curling against the sheets like I could hide the truth I'd already given him.

"I need..." Air rasped through my constricted throat, heat spreading across my face even as wetness gathered between my thighs. "Y-You."

His zipper rasped open, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. Fabric rustled, then the hot, velvet-skinned weight of his arousal pressed against my entrance. He didn't push forward, just let me feel his size, his heat, making me acutely aware of the emptiness he could fill.

My eyes found his—black holes that consumed light, consumed reason, consumed everything but the truth. The words formed in my chest, not my head, rising up from somewhere I couldn't control anymore.

His pupils dilated until only the thinnest ring of gray remained, something ancient and wounded flashing behind them—hunger mixed with something that might have been victory, might have been reverence.

He surged forward, filling me completely with a single, powerful thrust, both of us gasping sharply at the overwhelming sensation of finally being joined again. The sudden stretch burned exquisitely, body struggling to accommodate him after weeks without. My spine arched sharply, a cry building that he immediately silenced, palm pressing roughly over my mouth. His skin tasted of salt and metal—a reminder of what those hands had done, what they were capable of.

"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, the rare profanity revealing how deeply affected he was. "Still so tight. So fucking perfect."

His hips remained still for several heartbeats, allowing adjustment to his intrusion, restraint visible in corded neck tendons, in the subtle trembling of powerful thighs. Each stroke drove me further up the mattress until his arm locked around my waist, anchoring me in place for his assault. The headboard slammed against the wall despite his attempts to muffle the sound. Pressure coiled tight inside me again, impossible after such an intense orgasm, yet my body responded to him like it was made for this purpose alone.

"Bite down," he ordered, shifting his arm against my mouth. "Don't let Daddy hear what his little girl really sounds like when she's taking cock."

The crude language ignited something feral within me. Teeth sank into the sleeve of his shirt as he drove deeper, pace bordering on brutal. His mask dragged across my neck, fabric catching sensitive skin, adding texture to the overwhelming fullness stretching me beyond capacity.

"Your body begs better than your mouth." He murmured, adjusting the angle to hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.

The bed creaked loudly—a dangerous sound in the quiet house. V adjusted immediately, hooking my leg over his shoulder to change the angle, allowing upward thrusts rather than forward, minimizing the mattress's betrayal. As he shifted, his cheekbone caught the sharp corner of my bedside table, slicing a neat line just below his eye.

Blood welled instantly, a crimson streak against pale skin. He showed no reaction to the injury, driving into me, hitting places that made nerve endings light like a detonated wire with each thrust.

That blood awakened something primal—recognition that even without pain, he could bleed. That something human existed beneath the monster's mask. My fingers reached up, touching the wet warmth on his cheek before bringing it to my lips, tasting copper and salt on my tongue.

"You shouldn't want that." A beat. Then softer, darker—"But you do."

His pupils expanded to bottomless pits at the gesture—obsessed, consuming, ravenous. "Mine," he growled, pace accelerating as control frayed at the edges. "Mine to mark. Mine to fill. Mine to ruin. I'll make you crave everything you hate wanting," he breathed against my ear, his voice raw.

My teeth bit down harder as he drove in harder, deeper, his blood filling my mouth as another orgasm built with frightening speed. His rhythm grew more urgent, more primal.

His hand moved from the headboard to grip my hip with bruising force, fingers digging into soft flesh as he held me in place for each devastating thrust. The other remained pressed against my mouth, stifling sounds that threatened to escape with each impact.

"Mine," he growled with each stroke, the word becoming a mantra. "This is mine. All of it. Say it."

He shifted his hand just enough to free my mouth. "Y-Yours!"

The admission unleashed something feral in him—a wildness glimpsed only in unguarded moments. His hips stuttered, rhythm faltering as my inner muscles contracted around him, milking his length with each pulse of my orgasm. He buried himself to the hilt with a muffled groan, his release flooding me in hot pulses, marking me from the inside out.

His breath felt hot and ragged against my neck, mask damp with condensation, his massive frame pressing me into the mattress as he withdrew.

I remained sprawled across the bed, muscles liquid, unable to move. The mirror across the room reflected a stranger—hair wild, lips swollen, thighs glistening. He gently eased away, brushing his thumb tenderly over my inner thigh before carefully fastening his jeans, eyes locked on mine in a silent promise that tonight was only the beginning. I remained sprawled across the bed, muscles liquid, unable to move.

"For next time," V picked up the vibrator from where it had fallen to the floor, examining it before pocketing it. "When your cramps come."

"How am I supposed to go back down there now?" I whispered, attempting to smooth my appearance with trembling hands, reality crashing hard.

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