Page 36 of Make Me A Sinner
And then the trick. "With me watching you."
The bastard keeps pushing the line, day by day. But this is damn straightcrossingthat line. "Are you fucking kidding me? Have you gone mad?" I snarl, stunned by the sheer audacity.
"Watch your mouth before I fill it again with my cock," he threatens, and I feel the hand that's keeping me fixed to the chair losing its grip.
Such a jerk—and here I was, thinking maybe we were turning a corner. But there are no better terms with this man. He always follows his need to own me, and I'm not going to let that happen to the extent that he dreams. He can do whatever he wants with me. He won't get me to beg for him.
His hand slips from my back. He's not keeping me fixed to the chair anymore, so I take my chance. I jump back to my feet, then storm straight to the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I know it won't keep him away since it's his bed, after all, but at least it shows that I have not succumbed to his dirty demands.
nineteen
-Serena-
I barely manage to cover myself before I hear him coming in. And strangely enough, he seems even more relaxed than before, like getting me worked up was the plan all along.
Ugh, I could kill him for being so arrogant, even though I'm starting to become convinced it’s not just arrogance. He's just plain insane.
He changes into a pair of shorts, but I don't even turn to look at him. I just saw him grab them from the dressing room from the corner of my eye. So I assume that’s what he was doing. Then I feel him getting into bed next to me. And the closeness sends a rush of heat spiraling down my body. I hate that I want him so badly.
But he can’t just leave things this way. Everything has to be complicated in the world of Set, so he comes to wrap his arms around me. "You’ll learn how painful it is to be without me," he groans in my ear as I feel one of his hands gliding down on me, and landing straight between my thighs. "This is so you don't get any ideas while I sleep. You’ve been struggling with self-controllately," I can hear the amusement in his voice as he gives me a teasing squeeze, just enough to stir the hunger back up.
Even though I hate it, he’s right, it was painful being without him. And even more painful lying next to him, but withouthim.
Who the hell can figure me out anymore?I sure can’t. I hate him, but I think I love the idea of hating him more than actually doing it. Because deep down, I know those kinds of feelings I have when he’s around me couldn't be born out of hate.
And his words turn the rest of the night into pure torture. I can’t get my eyes to close due to some twisted moral compass that keeps me convinced I should never succumb to him.
The inception of doubt begins spreading in my mind to the thought that what Set wants, Set gets. At least it’s easier than dealing with the fact that it might be something I also want. Not on his terms, but I kind of need the same outcome.
I know he had trouble sleeping too. He kept fussing behind me, moving his hand from time to time over his newpossession—like he was checking up on me, or more likely keeping me warmed up.
Morning comes, following the same routine as in the past few days, he insists on joining me in the shower and washing me. Of course, he does it thoroughly—doesn’t miss a single spot and makes sure he lingers on allthe essentialones. I, for one, think I can get used to this kind of routine, but the worst part is that it’s not becoming just a routine. It’s pure arousal, like a wild game where I’ll end up the loser.
After the usual morning torture, he picks up a peach pencil skirt, a matching jacket, and a white shirt for me—that he makes sure it’s properly smoothed over my every curve.
I’m getting tired of this. Well, not exactly tired, and definitely not bored. His hands running over the fabric still sends a thrill through me, never leaving any doubt about how much I like it.
Today was an office day. Set buried himself in paperwork while I worked through reports, my eyes drifting now over the full-size painting of the god Set—the deity my mobster is unhinged enough to compare himself to. His eyes remind me of the time when I was face-to-face with him, pinned over the painting by Set's own body.
I wish I was a normal person. Why couldn't I just be a normal person and hate the man who’s indirectly keeping me prisoner?
I think it's because of being constantly edged that my mind is warping reality, and makes me romanticize him. I don't know why, but even the way he cracks his neck from side to side to diffuse, like he’s shaking off tension, feels deliberate—meant to allure me. And that’s not even counting the two undone buttons on his white shirt, just enough to let a tease of black ink slip out from his collar.
I realize it's just me, imagining everything he does is meant to seduce me, until I catch a flicker of concern breaking through all that intense focus on the paperwork that fills his desk.
I know he doesn't tell me what's really going on or the severity of things when it comes to Chen. He planned an entire heist just to avoid a war, and now, he'll start one because of me.He's been like this the whole day, like he's trying to come up with a plan. And knowing Set, it’s going to be one that will lead him to victory. He doesn't leave loose ends, and as sure as hell, he doesn't leave enemies alive. He's going to go after Chen, it's all about finding the most opportune timing.
However, I don't ask him about it. I don't want to put more pressure on him right now. I know that he's the one who got me into this, but I also know he's the one who’ll get me out of it. One thing I'm certain of is he's not like Nick. He isn't expecting me to solve any problem that might come up. He’s man enough to handle them himself. To be honest, I’ve never had that kind of confidence in anyone else to protect me. It feels damn good too,not having to rely only on myself to survive. And I’m never going to say this to another person, but it feels good to be taken care of.
We had a business lunch during the day, and then some more work, especially since he hired a new hotel manager a few months ago, and he needed to personally train him on taking over some of his tasks.
That’ll give him more free time. No, let me correct that, that’ll give us more free time because I seem to be glued to his hip lately.
We finish so late, it’s already dinner time when we leave the office. There’s no point going upstairs to order dinner when we can go to one of his restaurants in the building.
Set lets me pick, and I go with Japanese. Nothing too weird on my dining list, but I can't resist the mochis, and I know they’ve got an entire menu page dedicated to them.
"Is everything okay?" I ask as soon as we sit down at the table, trying to get some information about what was going on with Chen.
