Page 58 of Make Me A Sinner
“Mmm, this damn dress looks fucking stunning on you,” he whispers, his breath’s hot against my neck. “But without you, it’s just an overpriced scrap of fabric.” My heart just skipped a beat, and I’m almost afraid to turn to him because I don’t think I can stop myself from kissing him. And wouldn’t be the type of kiss that would stop just at that.
“I need to find some sandals to go with this,” I say, leaving the bathroom, but not without stealing one last glance at him. He’s biting his lips as if he’s waiting for something—something he’s not going to receive.
I go to my dressing room and grab a pair of gold tie-up sandals from a lineup of nearly identical ones in every color. Oh, I love making decisions like this. Only, this is something I really didn’t think through too well. My dress is too tight, and that piercing’s killing me every time I try to bend and tie my sandals. Luckilyfor me, I get an idea pretty quickly and stop in front of Set, who’s sitting on the bed, waiting for me to get ready.
If he wanted to help, now’s his chance. I toss the sandals to the floor, slip my foot into one, then lift it in the air, stopping only on Set’s chest, where I press, heel digging into his tux. They’re brand new, so it’s not like I’m dirtying his outfit. I don’t think that he even cares at this point, he just smiles, sliding both hands up my leg for support, and slowly starts wrapping the strings around me. Maybe this was a mistake, because his gesture is so sensual that it makes everything in my body hurt.
The top of his hand slips a little further—higher on my thigh, finger slowly digging into my flesh as he leaves a trail of pure lust down my legs.
I switch legs before he drives me totally insane. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I don’t know what this man is doing to me, but by the time he’s done, my mental sanity’s gone as well.
I press my other leg against the center of his chest, and he groans. I bet next time we have sex, he’ll make me wear heels. I almost laugh at the thought, but his hands gripping my legs quickly make me snap out of it.
My breath catches as he works to tie up the cord, but his grip on me is different this time, and I can tell he’s not letting go when he’s done. No—his hands slide up my thighs, gently lifting my dress, just enough so he can see his property.
I want to be ashamed because he’s staring straight at my pussy. But I’m not. I’m burning from inside out, like a fucking bomb, ready to blow—so turned on I can barely stand.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks, glancing between us for the glint of jewelry he knows is there, shining just for him.
“Yes,” I snap, even though it’s not a hundred percent accurate. It still hurts, but it’s a very bearable pain. It’s more like a reminder of who I belong to. “You’re not touching me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Don’t fool yourself that I need your permission to touch you,” he grins, slowly—and I mean slowly—retrieving his fingers. Then he gently lowers my foot back on the ground and readjusts my dress. “We have to go. There’s a charity event at eight, and the party’s on the outskirts of town.”
Fine by me. We really need to get out of here anyway. But before we do, Set makes me wait a minute, then comes back holding a jewelry box I remember all too well. “I think it’s time you had these back,” he says, handing me the box, and I know exactly what’s inside—the star earrings he gave me. I haven’t seen them since Italy. But no matter how dear they are to me, they only remind me of one thing—I hurt him. I did him wrong. I betrayed him. And when it came to the two of us, I was the villain, not him.
I don’t apologize, though, just take the box and put on the earrings, trying to wipe the guilty expression off my face. I don’t think I’m succeeding. But I know I’ll make it up to him one day.
Set takes us to the party in his two-seater Bugatti, and as we drive up the front alley, I notice the place is swarming with luxury cars and limos. This is a high-roller party, probably crawling with celebrities. I never thought to ask, but now that I’m looking at the impressive villa in front of us, I’m curious. The luxurious estate must have over two dozen rooms—maybe more—judging by all the windows.
“What is this place?” I ask, trying to figure out exactly where we’re going.
“They hold an annual event here. Different charity fundraising. In reality, just an excuse for Vegas’s richest figures to gather and gossip or brag about whatever luxury cars or houses they bought.”
“I never took you out for the partying type.”
“I can be civilized when I need to be. I’ve still got connections to maintain. Plus, a few people I haven’t seen in a while will behere tonight.” He leads me inside, and the glamour here could easily rival the Sphinx’s. Same Vegas style—just with less bling and neon lights. The building’s nonetheless impressive, with the classic marble floors and soaring archways setting out the perfect decor for the elite to mingle.
Set gives our names at the entrance and leads me in. Everything feels so glamorous, it reminds me of a part of my life I’ve left behind a long time ago. I used to attend parties like this in California. My brother moved in the right circles, and we were always getting invited to events like these.
I just miss him so much sometimes.
I see a few wandering eyes drifting my way. That’s the unspoken goal of any of these parties—for women anyway. Get everyone else's attention and get noticed for your outfit, makeup, or hair. I won’t lie—deep down, I used to love the attention. Who wouldn’t? But right now, I’d rather they all just look away because I don’t need to see Set shoot someone tonight. And I’m pretty sure that’s what’ll happen if any of the gentlemen present here try to talk to me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Set whispers at the back of my ear as he guides me across the room—toward some guy waving at him like his life depends on it. “Fuck. That’s Senator Burley. I can’t just ignore him.” Set heads over, and the man launches straight into politics and campaign funding. Why am I not surprised? I’m having the feeling we’re not giving charity to some children's organization, but to some politicians who are up for reelection.
Then again, aren’t they all like this? That’s always the real goal for all of these charity events. I just never pictured Set in this scene, but now that I think about it, you don’t get to the top unless you’re part of a bigger picture. This is the way the world works—big players watching each other’s backs, as long as the money flows into the right pockets.
Set eventually gets rid of the senator, but he barely takes two steps before he’s greeted by the head of the Vegas gambling committee. I know the guy’s important, and mostly I know he’s important to Set with all the casinos he owns. So I spend another fifteen minutes being bored to death while they drone on about legislation. I’m starting to think I liked him better when he was killing people. At least that was exciting. Besides, there are more than a few politicians here, I’m sure no one would miss.
“See, that’s why I don’t like leaving the house,” Set mutters as the man sees someone else to schmooze, and vanishes into the crowd.
“Well, we’re here. You can’t leave before the charity thing begins. Which should be in just a couple of minutes. So let’s make the best of it.” I barely finish my sentence as I see the most jaw-dropping woman descending the stairs. A stunning blonde, dressed in a skin-tight white dress, molded to each and every one of her flawless curves. Her eyes, almost an unreal shade of green, sculpted cheeks, plump arched lips. A living, breathing Barbie doll. The whole crowd around us is murmuring as if the most famous celebrity just walked in. And maybe she even is a celebrity. She sure looks like one.
Even I’m admiring her—until that admiration suddenly turns into something else as I realize she’s cutting through the crowd and walking straight to us. I glance at Set and the large smile on his face confirms it. She’s coming to him.
My breath gets caught for a second, and for some dumb reason, I squeeze harder on his fingers, like someone’s trying to steal him from me. Funny how I wanted to run away, now I’m the one holding him in place. But I kept telling myself it’s only in my imagination, and she’ll stop to talk to any other man or woman in the room.
She doesn’t. She stops right in front of Set and—completely ignoring me—kisses his cheek. “I missed you,” she purrs, her voice coated in a strange warmth.
