Page 77 of Sins of the Hidden

Darkness fell as I obeyed. The soft rustle of elastic reached my ears—the unmistakable sound of his mask being removed. A subtle shift in the air brushed across my skin as he moved. Then his warm breath, unfiltered and raw, caressed my stomach, carrying the scent of smoke that filled my lungs with each inhale.

My body jolted at the sudden shock of bare lips on my stomach. The heat of his mouth seared against my skin—no barrier, just the forbidden sensation of his naked lips against me. A low exhale escaped him, vibrating directly against my abdomen. That first touch of skin on skin after knowing only his mask sent electricity racing through me. The slight scratch of stubble I never knew existed grazed the sensitive skin below my navel. The forbidden thrill of feeling what I wasn't allowed to see made my heart race, my other senses heightened in the darkness behind my eyelids.

His mouth on my skin ignited me, each point of contact leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His tongue—hot, wet, relentless—traced my nipple in slow, torturous circles, the rough texture dragging against the sensitive peak until it hardened painfully. The contrast between the cool air and his scorching mouth made me gasp. He palmed my other breast, the calluses on his hand creating delicious friction as he squeezed until pleasure edged into pain, the sweet ache radiating outward. I arched into him, my spine curving like a drawn bow, silentlybegging for more as the scent of his skin—smoke and something metallic, dangerous—filled my lungs with each ragged breath.

"Responsive," he murmured, his voice different without the mask—richer, deeper, scraping along my senses like velvet over gravel.

His hand left my chest, gently grazing the skin as his fingers tickled down to my stomach. His touch left a trail of fire in its wake, my skin hypersensitive to his every movement.

"Tell me what you want, Oakley." His words scraped against my breast like rough velvet, each syllable burning against my sensitive skin.

The request sent heat flooding through me. "T-Touch me," I managed, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "P-Please."

"Where?" His fingers hovered just above the waistband of my underwear. "Tell me exactly where."

"B-Between my legs," I whispered, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through me. "P-Please touch me there."

His fingers slid over my center, the rough calluses catching against drenched silk. He tugged the fabric to one side with deliberate slowness, exposing me to the cool air that made me gasp and arch. My pulse hammered wildly as he held me open, vulnerable and aching under his unwavering gaze.

The first drag of his finger against my bare flesh sent electricity shooting up my spine, my muscles tensing with pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. One thick digit circled my clit, gathering the evidence of my arousal, spreading it in slow, torturous circles. Each pass sent waves of heat radiating through my core, my body responding to his touch with an eagerness that humiliated and thrilled me in equal measure.

My hips betrayed me, rising to meet his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction. His other hand pressed firmly on my lower abdomen, controlling my movements, limiting how muchpleasure I was allowed to take for myself. My breath came in short, desperate pants as his fingers circled my swollen bud, my inner walls clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

"Wet." He grunted the word, voice thick. "Messy. All for me."

His thumb continued working circles against my sensitive flesh while his middle finger trailed lower, parting my folds with deliberate slowness. The calloused pad dragged against my entrance, gathering slickness before pressing inside with agonizing precision. My back arched involuntarily, the intimate invasion making my toes curl and my thighs quiver. I imagined his dark eyes watched every reaction, cataloging each tremor and gasp as I struggled to adjust to his intrusion.

Another finger joined the first, stretching me wider, the sensation hovering between pleasure and discomfort. My body yielded around him, the pleasant burn making me whimper as he pressed deeper. The heel of his palm ground against my most sensitive spot with each subtle movement, sending jolts of electricity up my spine and pulling sounds from my throat that I didn't recognize.

He shifted his position, removing his restraining hand from my abdomen. Before I could move, his fingers tangled in my hair, forcing my head back, exposing my throat. I kept my eyes tightly shut as he leaned down, the heat of his breath washing over my skin moments before his bare lips dragged across my thundering pulse. The unfamiliar sensation of his naked mouth on my throat sent a shiver down my spine—the forbidden contact more intimate than anything we'd shared before.

"So fucking tight," he hissed, curling his fingers inside me until they found a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. My inner walls clenched around him, gripping his fingers as they worked me open. "Your body knows who it belongs to."

A broken cry escaped my throat as his fingers curved inside me, finding that perfect spot that made lightning crack behindmy eyelids. He slid down my body in one fluid movement, his fingers still working inside me as his mouth replaced his thumb. My hands instinctively flew to his head, fingers tangling in his thick, shoulder-length waves. The silky black strands wrapped around my knuckles as I gripped tightly, holding onto him like a lifeline through the overwhelming sensation. The moment his tongue lapped over my sex—hot, wet, demanding—everything else disappeared. Nothing existed but his mouth and the pleasure tearing through me. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more, as pleasure overwhelmed me, my fingers tightening in his hair with each wave that crashed through me.

The aftershocks still rippled through me when he gradually slowed, his tongue giving one final, long stroke before he pulled away. I kept my eyes tightly shut, heart hammering against my ribs as I felt him move up my body. The bed dipped with his shifting weight. Wet, obscene sounds reached my ears—slick and hungry, followed by a low hum of satisfaction that vibrated through the darkness. My cheeks burned at the realization of what I was hearing—him tasting, savoring me on his fingers. Then came the distinctive snap of elastic as he pulled his mask back into place. His breath fell hot against my face, now filtered through the familiar barrier of his mask.

His weight settled between my thighs, the heat of him pressing against my still-sensitive flesh. One hand cupped my jaw, thumb tracing my lower lip. "Eyes on me, Oakley." The low growl left no room for refusal.

I opened my eyes, finding V standing at the foot of the bed, naked except for his mask. His body was a battlefield—hard muscle carved by conflict, marked with scars that told stories of survival. Despite the mask concealing his face, I felt the raw vulnerability in his stance—offering himself completely to my gaze.

I couldn't help but stare at his cock—thick, heavy, intimidating just like it was when we took a bath together. It jutted proudly upward, the swollen head reaching his navel. My throat went dry at the sight. His hand moved to grip the base, a silent question in his eyes. "Are you afraid?"

"A-A little," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "B-But I want this.”I want you.

Something shifted in his eyes—a softening that made my heart clench. "Won't hurt you."

V stalked toward me. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. He positioned himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my entrance—hot, insistent. His fingers found mine in the shadows, interlacing for a single heartbeat—acknowledgment without words. Then he let go, hands anchoring my hips exactly where he wanted them.

His eyes met mine—black, fathomless, unyielding. I nodded once.

Something took over his features. His pupils expanded until his eyes were bottomless voids.

One merciless thrust and he buried himself completely. The stretch stole my breath, nerves firing too fast to track. I felt split open, nerve endings sparking along places I'd never dared touch myself. A sound I'd never made before tore from my throat—half-plea, half-surrender.

For years, I'd imagined this moment would never come—that I'd remain untouched, unwanted, perpetually on the outside looking in. Now this man—dangerous, powerful, feared—shuddered above me like I was the only thing in his world that mattered. The reverence in his touch was almost too much to bear.

"W-Wait," I gasped, the sudden fullness overwhelming. "V, it hurts?—!"

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