Page 33 of Sin Wager
His hand doesn’t leave my breast. He kneads hard enough to make me gasp, his thumb scraping over my nipple until it stiffens under his touch.
“You remember how deep I was inside you. How you shook when I made you come on my cock.” His lips drag down my throat, biting at the soft skin below my jaw. “And you’re going to give me more tonight.”
Heat coils through me, not the sudden rush of fantasy but the deep ache of wanting him, of knowing he means every word.
He doesn’t give me time to respond. His palm slides down, bunching my skirt higher, his knuckles grazing my thigh. I suck in a breath, my body arching toward his hand before I can stop myself.
“That’s it,” he growls against my mouth, kissing me hard, swallowing the sound I make. “Show me how much you missed me inside you.”
His fingers trace up the inside of my leg, stopping just short of where I ache for him. The pressure, the promise, has me trembling. He doesn’t touch me there yet. Instead, he pulls back enough to look into my face.
“I’ll take my time with you. Stretch you open until you’re begging for more.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. He smirks, sliding his hand higher until his knuckles brush over damp lace, proof that my body has already betrayed me.
“Good,” he mutters darkly. “That’s how I want you. Already ready for me, and I haven’t even started.”
His knuckles graze over the lace again, and his mouth curves into a hungry smile. Then he pulls his hand away, leaving me aching, empty.
“Stand up.”
The command is low, firm, no room for argument. I rise unsteadily, my skirt still bunched high on my thighs. He leans back on the sofa, legs spread wide, watching me with that unblinking intensity that makes my pulse stumble.
“Take it off.”
My breath catches. “Here? Like this?”
“Yes. Every piece. I want to see you bare for me.” His voice roughens as his gaze drags down my body. “I want to watch you undress knowing you’re already wet for me.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I hook my fingers under the straps of my dress and push them down. The fabric slides lower, baring my breasts before slipping to the floor around my ankles. I stand there in lace, my chest rising fast, his eyes devouring me.
“Keep going.”
I reach behind me, unclasping the bra. It falls away, and my nipples tighten in the cool air. His jaw flexes.
“You like this?” I ask, my voice softer than I intend. “Me standing here while you just look?”
“I fucking love it,” he growls. “Watching you strip for me is almost as good as having you. Almost.”
My fingers find the edge of my panties, hesitating, and he leans forward slightly, eyes burning into mine.
“Do it slow.”
I obey, dragging the lace down my hips, letting it cling before I finally bare myself completely. I step out of them, every nerve alive under his stare.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, stroking himself lazily over his trousers. “Now come here.”
I cross the space, my body trembling with equal parts nerves and need. His hand fists in my hair when I reach him, pulling me down for a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs.
“You’re mine tonight, Vera. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper against his mouth, my hand braced on his chest.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours.” The words rip out of me, shaky but true.
His mouth crashes over mine again, and this time, his hands roam with no restraint, grabbing, squeezing, pulling me into his lap.
