Page 20 of Sin Wager
"Since anyone made me feel beautiful. Desired. Important."
"You are all those things. And more."
The dress pools at her feet, and she steps out of it with grace that takes my breath away. She's even more stunning than I imagined—all curves and soft skin and quiet strength. Her undergarments are simple, practical, but they can't diminish the effect she has on me.
I remove my jacket, then my shirt, watching her eyes widen as she takes in the tattoos that cover my arms and chest. The ink tells stories she doesn't know yet—family loyalty, blood spilled, debts paid in full. But tonight, they're simply decoration on skin she wants to touch.
When I reach for her again, she comes willingly, pressing herself against me with a soft sound of pleasure. Her skin is warm, impossibly soft, and the way she fits against me feels inevitable.
"I want to worship every inch of you," I murmur against her ear. "I want to show you what it feels like to be cherished."
Her answer is a kiss that conveys everything words cannot. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with desire.
"Show me," she whispers.
I lower my mouth to hers again, slower this time, savoring her taste. She parts for me, pliant and eager, her hands threading into my hair as if she never wants me to stop. My palms roam her body—shoulders, waist, hips—mapping her curves until I find myself kneeling before her.
Her breath catches. I slide my hands down her thighs and press a reverent kiss to her stomach. Her skin tastes of salt and warmth, and she trembles under the press of my lips. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and peel them down her legs, pausing only to trail my mouth lower, worshiping as I go.
When she’s bare, I look up at her—every inch of her open to me, radiant in the moonlight. “You’re exquisite,” I murmur. Her cheeks flush, her chest rising fast, and she reaches for the edge of the bed as if she needs something to steady herself.
I guide her back onto the mattress, spreading her across the cool linens. She gasps when I settle between her thighs, pressing a kiss against the soft inside of her knee before dragging my mouth higher, over her inner thigh, to the heat waiting for me.
The first stroke of my tongue makes her cry out, her hips jerking. I hold her there, savoring every taste, every desperate sound she gives me. Her fingers clutch the sheets, then bury themselves in my hair as I worship her with my mouth—slow circles, then deeper strokes, drinking in the sweetness of her arousal.
I take my time, stroking her slowly, tasting her, letting the pressure build. My hands curve over her hips, keeping her anchored as she writhes beneath me. Her thighs tense, then relax, opening wider when I tease her with another long, slow sweep.
She arches when I circle her clit with my tongue, then groans when I pull back to lick lower, savoring every shiver that ripples through her. I keep her on the edge with a rhythm that’sunhurried, coaxing her higher with each pass. Her fingers bury in my hair, tugging, urging me closer, and I give her what she wants—sucking gently, flicking, drawing out more sounds that make my cock ache.
I slide a finger inside her, slow and careful, curling just enough to make her gasp. She clenches around me, her thighs trembling, but I don’t rush. I add another finger, working her open, stroking deep while my tongue continues its steady rhythm. Her cries grow sharper, her hips lifting against my mouth, chasing the pressure.
Only when she’s shaking with need do I let her fall over, her body arching, thighs quivering around my head. I hold her through it, drinking in every sound, every frantic pulse of her body until she collapses back onto the bed, flushed and breathless.
Her chest heaves as she comes down, her skin damp, her lips parted like she’s forgotten how to breathe. I kiss the inside of her thigh and trail upward, tasting the salt of her skin along her stomach until I reach her mouth.
She kisses me with desperation, as though she needs to feel the proof of what I just did to her on my tongue. Her hand cradles my jaw, her thumb trembling against my cheek.
“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” she whispers, her voice raw.
“You deserve to feel like that every time,” I murmur, brushing her hair back from her face.
Her eyes search mine, wide and uncertain. “No one’s ever touched me like you just did.”
A low sound leaves my throat, equal parts anger for what she’s been denied and hunger for more. “Then I’ll make sure you never forget tonight. I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
I shift over her, caging her body with mine, and she opens for me without hesitation. Her skin is still hot, her pulse racing.I kiss her again, deep and claiming, and when I draw back, she’s gasping, eyes glassy with need.
I shove my trousers down, my cock heavy and aching as it springs free. Her gaze drops, widening, and she exhales shakily. My hand glides between her thighs, sliding through her wetness before I line myself up. She’s still fluttering from the orgasm, soft and tight around my fingers, but I want her to feel me stretch her even more.
Her legs tense when I push the head of my cock against her entrance. I grip her hip and ease inside, slowly at first, savoring the way her body clings to me. She lets out a strangled sound, her hands clawing at my shoulders as inch by inch, I sink deeper.
“Fuck, Vera,” I growl into her neck. “You feel unreal.”
She arches beneath me, breath breaking on a moan when I bottom out, buried to the hilt. For a moment we stay like that, her body adjusting, my control fraying. Then I draw back and thrust again, harder, pulling a cry from her lips that makes me lose the last thread of patience.
Her nails bite into my back as I set a rhythm—deep, relentless, each stroke forcing another gasp from her throat. The wet sounds of our bodies fill the room, mingling with her broken moans. I watch her face, the way it shifts from surprise to surrender, and it drives me harder.
Her cries sharpen when I slam into her again, the sound tearing through the room. She clings to me, her breath ragged in my ear.
