Page 19 of Remorseless Sinner

“Give in,” he said. “Give up. I’m your fucking king now.”

And for the first time in my life, I couldn’t feel Nimhe. Not at all.

I struggled to get away as he drew me closer, inch by inch.

Then when my thigh hit his, my wrist burning, I tried to pull away from him. But he jerked my arm and pulled meclose, looking at me fiercely for one moment, then wrapping his other hand around my throat. My heartbeat fluttered around his fingers.

My lips were being tipped up.

He was going to kiss me.

And with his hand around my throat, I had no way to escape.

He bent forward, the soft collar of the suit brushing against my heated skin, and kissed me.

I froze, uncertain, afraid, determined not to give him any satisfaction.

His kiss was hard, demanding.

Like he was.

Like he always had been.

He smelled like leather, heat, something dark and smoky and wrong.

He would want to lay together now, I thought in a panic. He would want to put that huge terrifying bulge inside me.

And he would want to put a baby in me and I didn’t know how to escape him.

My lips stayed firmly tight, as I felt his tongue tease at the seam of my trap-shut mouth.

He dragged me closer by the throat, my skin burning, and with one hand he tightened those massive fingers. With the other he pinched my nose shut.

I was forced to open my lips, to gasp in desperation, and with a rumble of pleasure he thrust his tongue inside my mouth.

My heart was pounding.

Saul tasted forceful, wrong, and I tried to push him away, my hands ineffective against the massive strength of his chest, the muscles thick and solid under my fingers.

“Stop that,” Saul growled. “I bought you. I own you.”

His fingers wrapped tighter, squeezed around my throat and I gave a quick, hysterical scream and fainted.

CHAPTER 6

Saul

Icarried my wife’s limp body inside her Honeywood home.

Hans, my limo driver, said nothing when I took her out but then, he wasn’t paid to have opinions.

Convincing my sweet little stepsister that she was dirty and depraved like me was going to be a bitch of a job but there was no one else in the world more obsessed with it.

When we got inside, I laid Gracie carefully down in her little wooden bed and pulled her clothes off.

First, the long-sleeved gray turtleneck, rolling it up over round, heavy breasts. A tiny dot of milk was beading on each one and as I watched, it grew into a big, heavy drop, falling lushly out of her nipple and then sliding down the curve of her breasts.

Hungrily, I bent down and chased it with my tongue, following the delicious milky trail down her breast and into the elegant lines of her ribs and belly.

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