Page 139 of Masked Sins
I reach for the hem of my tank top, pulling it up and using my abdominal muscles to hold me up a couple of inches as I pull it over my head and throw it somewhere behind me.
His hand moves up to my stomach, and it lays flat against my lower belly—the rounder part I’m most self-conscious about.
I know realistically that it’s normal for women not to have flat stomachs. Even me—who is considered a professional ballet dancer. I tense when he begins to massage my flesh, and his expression softens slightly.
“Relax,” he says, voice low. “I need to know if talking about your body is okay.”
His words startle me. “What do you mean?”
His brow wrinkles. “I did a lot of research on eating disorder recovery, and one of the things people in recovery consistently said was that comments about their bodies always set them off. Not just negative comments—all comments. So I want to be sure I don’t threaten your recovery before I say something. I know I got carried away earlier and forgot to ask?—”
“Orion.” My throat catches, and I move my hand on top of his.He did research?That’s really thoughtful. “It’s okay. Like I said, as long as it’s not degrading, you can say whatever you want about my body.”
His eyes darken as his hand twitches underneath mine. Suddenly, he drops his head on my chest, placing a kiss along my collarbone. I get a whiff of tobacco and leather when his hair tickles my chin, and I inhale sharply when he does it again along the other collarbone.
“Good. Because I plan to worship you, Layla. Your body is perfect.” His hand presses down against my lower stomach gently, and then he kisses my breasts—one after the other. The soft touches make my nipples harden, and I’m panting by the time he gets down to my stomach. “You’re strong. You’re beautiful. Every muscle, every curve, every freckle.” He trails kisses to my hips, kissing each hip bone. “And not just because of how it looks. But because it’syou.Because I can’t get enough of your smell, of how soft your skin is, of your taste—fuck, I’d make a deal with the devil and sell my soul if it meant I only got to taste you for the rest of my life, Layla.”
My breath hitches as one of his other hands works down to my seam.
I place a hand against his chest as my eyelashes flutter. His racing heart beats in tandem with mine.
My legs quiver as he inserts one finger inside me. I gasp on an inhale, and he pulls his finger out, giving me a playful smile.
“What—”
Without warning, he plunges two fingers inside me. I see stars as he roughly pounds into me, and his thumb bumps my piercing. He doesn’t relent, and my eyes roll into my head as my back arches off the table.
“Oh fuck?—”
“That’s it, Layla. No inhibitions. Not anymore. Tell me exactly what you want.”
“That—doing what you’re doing?—”
My hands fly to the edge of the island, and I grip it for dear life. It only intensifies the aching, building pressure inside me, because it keeps me from sliding back—and allows him to go harder.
“Orion,” I whimper.
“That’s not my name,” he says, tongue clicking. His fingers curl, dragging against the sensitive spot inside me.
“Fuck—yes, right there—Master.”
“Good girl. Do you have any idea how fucking hot it is to see you falling apart, to see you scream out those filthy words?”
“God—yes?—”
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, and when I look up at him, he’s watching me with a tortured expression.
“Please, let me come,” I say, tension building inside me.
My muscles contract, and he still doesn’t relent. Instead, he goes deeper, until he’s inside me all the way to his first knuckle. The motion drags against the top of my opening, pulling at my piercing and sending a shock wave of pleasure searing through me.
“Fuck,” I rasp, circling my hips.
“Louder,” Orion commands.
“Fuck!”
He uses his other hand to flick my piercing, and something low and primal escapes me as sweet ecstasy spreads through me.
