Page 14 of Make Me A Sinner
I slide a towel under her knee, stretching her leg to my lap. I'm trying not to be a dick about things, at least for the next two or three minutes.
She takes another sip from the glass, eyes flickering with anxiety.
"Ready?" I ask, and she nods, mostly because I don't think she has the power to speak anymore.
My chest tightens as I pour the peroxide over her raw skin, and I can hear how it's bubbling deep into the wound. She doesn't cry out this time; she just leans forward, her arms wrapping around my neck for support, as slow whimpers reach my ear.
I’d have to be stone cold not to try and comfort her, and as much as she deserves it, I just can’t stop myself from trying to ease her pain. My hands run up her hips all the way to her ass, then back down beneath her knees, a couple of times, squeezing to ignite any other sensation but that damn pain. "You're doing so well, Serena. Just a little bit more and it’ll be over. I promise." My hands go up and down, becoming bolder with each move, more eager to explore her body.
Her whimpers are still there, softer, but enough to drive me mad. And I don't even know when my hands drift between her legs. My fingers brush her sensitive skin until I feel how wet she really is—even after nearly passing out from the pain.
I'll be damned. The pain turned her on.
I know she likes it a little rough, but this was well beyond any reasonable limit. Yet, here she is, dripping all over my hand.
My fingers begin moving, turning her whimpers into soft moans, so seductive it makes me consider making her join the mile-high club.Her breasts move up and down from her ragged breath, and she's so damn hot in this moment that I’d be the one selling my soul to the devil to have her.
"Fucking Hell," I groan, spreading her wetness across her entire core so she can feel what I'm doing to her.
I almost lose it, and I’m one step away from repeating this morning. But I won't let her fool me again. She needs to pay, and I just figured out how to make her do that. This might be her worst punishment, even if I have to take a little punishment for myself.
I adjust her skirt as I pull away from her, catching the flush on her face as she sinks back into her seat.
"I have to bandage it. Then I'm done." Even I'm surprised by the coldness of my tone. But I force myself to shut it all down and go from aroused to indifferent.
I'm still careful not to hurt her as I bandage the wound. I'll have to keep an eye on it over the next few days, but for now, it looks decent enough. I don't want to stay next to her a second longer. Ican'tstay next to her—at least not now, when I’m this close to losing control.
I get up as soon as I'm done, like something from within me is chasing me away. But before I walk away, she grabs my arm, those big blue eyes staring up at me. "I made a mistake," she says, her voice shaking. And it's not because of the alcohol. I know exactly what she's talking about—she regrets leaving.
Yes, she will regret it for a very long time.
I look at her, almost inexpressively, trying to be as calm as I can, given the fact that I’d betrayed every single belief I ever held; for this woman. "No. I’m the one who made the mistake," I say, then return to my seat, where I stay for the rest of the ten-hour flight.
nine
-Serena-
I didn't sleep for the entire flight back to Vegas, and neither did Set, but he didn't come back near me for the whole flight. I don't blame him, though. I hurt him. It doesn't take a genius to see that. I'll just have to find a way to fix things eventually. Because now I'm certain, there’s no getting away from him. I’m his, no matter what that means.
My knee still hurts, and at one point, the flight attendant brought me an Advil, which I didn't request but gladly took. At least I can walk better now. I even managed to make it to the bathroom on my own.
Mr. Cat is a traitor. He stayed with Set the whole flight, even though I called him several times. I bet that stroked Set’s ego. Now, not only does my body betray me around my mobster, but so does my cat.
As soon as we land, Set hands me a phone so I can text the homeowner, just like told me to. The man has everything figured out. And I mean everything,because by the time we get to his penthouse, Mr. Cat has his own bowl of food and litter box.
I don't even want to ask how those got there because I don't want to know what he’ll expect in return for his kindness. But I do appreciate the gesture. And for a second, I wonder if easing up on him might not be the worst idea.
That's only for a second. The thought dies as soon as I take a turn to my old bedroom and I see his head shaking as a no. "You’re under my watch from now on. No more screwing things up. Next time you try to run away,I willfucking kill you," he growls, sensing that he let his guard down too much with me. "The only reason I haven't done it yet is that I know all this change messed with your head. But that still doesn't excuse what you did."
"I got scared," I admit, meeting his eyes, not sure myself anymore why I ran away.
"You got scared." He snarls, and I can see his calm washing away as his fists clench like they’ve suddenly turned into weapons. "I fucking trusted you, and you broke it. I fucking opened up to you, and you broke that too. I fucking gave you my whole world, and you threw that away.And you're going to pay for that for a long fucking time."
It's only then I realize how much damage I've done. I know I've hurt him, I don’t need him to say it. I fucked up—bad. Still, I can't apologize again because either he doesn't trust me, or he doesn't care. Truth is, I wouldn't trust me, either.
I'm just about to step into his bedroom when I hear him growl behind me, a dangerous intonation in the sound: "You considered yourself to be my toy. I'll show you what being just a toyreallyfeels like."
A cold chill runs down my spine, making the hair on my neck stand on end and my breath to quicken. All I can do is wait in the corner of his room like a kid who just messed up, and is waiting for punishment.
