Page 83 of Sins of the Hidden

I stared at her, not blinking.

"I want... I want to be woken up... with you... inside me." Each word seemed to cost her, dragged from somewhere deep and private. "While I'm sleeping. Just... take me before I'm even awake." Her voice had dropped to such a whisper that her lips moved almost without sound.

"You want me to fuck you while you sleep." My voice remained neutral, analytical.

She squeezed her eyes shut, mortification radiating from her in palpable waves. "Oh my god, I can't believe I told you that."

"You want to wake up stuffed full of my cock, dripping before your eyes even open."

She hid behind her hands, but her thighs clenched like a confession. Shame couldn't disguise how fucking wet the thought made her. The sheets were damp beneath her thighs. She hated that I noticed. I loved that she couldn't hide it.

"You'll need to start sleeping on your stomach." I shifted her body slightly, demonstrating. "Or on your side. Back won't work. I'd have to wake you to position you."

"Kill me now," she mumbled into the mattress.

The image seared itself into my brain—Oakley unconscious, vulnerable, completely at my mercy as I claimed her in her most defenseless state. My cock stirred against her thigh.

"Good girl," I growled against her ear, biting down just hard enough to hear that sharp little gasp—my favorite sound in the goddamn world. "I'll make sure you never know when it's coming. Could be tonight. Could be next week." My fingers dug into her hip, feeling the give. "Don't ask me when. I want you nervous."

Her breathing quickened, pupils dilating as she processed my promise. The thought of being taken without warning hadher pressing her thighs together, seeking friction she wouldn't find.

"Now sleep," I commanded, pulling her tighter against me. "Don't whimper if I collect."

She choked on her next breath, eyes wide before she forced them shut, a tremor running visibly through her body as she pretended to attempt sleep.

Oakley had fallen asleep shortly after, curled against my chest, her hair still damp from both the shower and our exertions, dreams of her confession no doubt filling her head.

She shifted slightly beneath me, her arm instinctively covering her belly like she didn't want me to see it. As if I hadn't just made her come so hard the gods shut up to watch. I gently moved her arm away, placing it at her side.

She was covered in a mountain of blankets I'd carefully arranged around her. I didn't want her to get cold, though my body heat alone could have kept her warm through winter.

I mapped invisible claims along her shoulder with slow, deliberate passes that only I could see. Not enough. I needed something more permanent, more visible. Something everyone would see.

Lowering my head, I engraved my teeth into where her neck bared itself for the bite, marking her deep enough they'd see it in daylight. "They'll all see. Every fucking one of them. I left my name on your skin," I whispered against the mark. To mark. To own. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, utterly abandoned to exhaustion. Good. Tomorrow she'd wear my signature. Everyone would see the ghost I'd left behind. The thought sent a current of dark pleasure through me as she unconsciously melted closer against me, seeking shelter in my chest even in sleep.

Her fragile exhales tickled my chest, each one a reminder that this fragile, perfect creature had surrendered herself to me completely.

Her soft breaths hit my chest, rhythmic proof she was alive, real, and mine.

Mine. I held onto that word, rolling it around in my mind. It wasn't gentle, wasn't careful. I didn't know how to be those things. But I knew ownership. I knew possession. Protectiveness came easier when it was about guarding something that belonged to me.

I stared at her face as she slept, relaxed in a way she never was awake. This was the closest thing to peace I'd ever felt—watching her exist, knowing she couldn't leave while she was unconscious.

The stupid movies she made me watch replayed in my head. Lovers gazing softly at each other, whispering sweet things I'd never say. Holding hands, kissing under streetlights in the rain. They felt fake. I didn't get it.

But one thing clicked into place. These people weren't just in love.

They were married.

Iwoke up satiated, body heavy with memories of the night before. A dull, persistent ache radiated between my thighs every time I shifted. Rolling to the other side, my heart plummeted at the empty space beside me. Then I spotted V's black shirt lying haphazardly where he should have been. My fingers clutched the material, bringing it to my face as I inhaled deeply. Smoke mixed with ash flooded my senses—V's unmistakable scent.

My mind tried convincing me I wasn't smelling the fumes of burning bodies. How twisted that I was starting to crave something so monstrous—starting to cravehim.

What kind of girl looks at a monster and sees home?

Still clinging to his shirt, my eyes wandered down. Realizing I was naked, bashfulness swept through me like a cold wave. My gaze traced over my pale skin, lingering on the flurry of red marks scattered across my chest. Images of V's mouth—that dangerous, masked mouth—against my flesh flooded my mind. My stomach tightened as my thighs pressed together instinctively.

His scarred hands mapping my curves, his masked face between my thighs, the way he'd consumed me without mercy. My cheeks burned, but beneath the embarrassment bubbled something dangerous—happiness. It spilled from my throat in a small, startled giggle.

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