Page 63 of Masked Sins
My cock begins to swell when I think of how badly I want to bend her over and paddle her ass for showing up tonight.
I could show her the darkness she thinks she craves until she’s begging for more.
I couldtasteher innocence as I savor every breathless gasp of her surrender.
Fuck.
I stand and pull my shirt back on, adjusting my hard-on before quickly exiting the employee room. The club is busier now, and I have to slide past people to make my way down tothe dungeon. I don’t plan on confronting Layla, but I do want to keep an eye on her.
I can’t help myself.
After circling the room several times, I don’t see her down in Purgatory. Grumbling, I ascend the stairs toward Paradise.
It’s more crowded up here. Pleasure more easily entices people, and who doesn’t want to feelgood? Once I’m on the floor, I scan the small crowd, spotting Layla standing with Zoe and Remy by the feather room, and I stand at the back as I watch my stepsister observe the participants.
One of Inferno’s Doms stands over a woman sprawled over a fluffy white bed. She’s completely naked, and he’s running a large, white feather down her abdomen. She arches her back and moans as he gets closer to her hips, but he stops a few inches away from where she wants it. Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms and watch Layla observe the scene.
Even from where I’m standing, I can tell she’s turned on. Her neck is flushed, and her chest is rising and falling rapidly. Her denim dress clings to her slim, muscular body, perfectly accentuating the narrow curve of her waist and hips. Her long ponytail brushes against her back, and I fight the urge to walk up behind her and bite the creamy flesh of her slender neck.
Compared to everyone else, she seems so out of place here. Innocent. Young.Yet to be corrupted.
And on her delicate right wrist is the bracelet I sent her.
Poor, angelic little stepsister… so turned on and not able to do anything about it because she was instructed not to.
And I know she’ll obey me.Well, Starboy.
She’s a good girl—always has been.
Just as I think it, she turns her head and looks right at me. I give her nothing—no smile, no scowl—before turning and walking to the other side of the room, hidden by the small group forming.
Being a Dominant, I’ve taught myself how to read cues and interpret looks and sounds. If my submissive is too far gone to use her safe word, I have to know to stop the scene.
I learned that the hard way.
And one failsafe thing I know for sure from experience is that people hate being ignored—especially when you’ve given them no reason to do so. Laylaexpectsme to lose my shit because she’s here. Sheexpectsme to lose my shit if she brings a date to a family party, just like sheexpectedme to punch that fucking dancer in her company a couple of years ago.
Even if she doesn’t realize it, she came here to get a rise out of me, but I won’t give her that satisfaction tonight.
I watch for ten more minutes. The crowd begins to thin as they move onto the voyeur room next door. I stay exactly where I am, pretending to be engrossed in what I’m watching.
The scent of fresh strawberries and a flash of red hair in my peripheral vision tells me that my intuition was right.
She’s so easy to pick apart—predictable.
And I fucking love that an hour of ignoring her means I have her wrapped around my little finger.
3 …
2 …
1 …
“I liked your scene.”
I don’t turn to face her, instead schooling my expression into something indifferent despite my pounding heart and my clammy hands.
“Thanks. Are you enjoying yourself?”
