Page 6 of His Sinner

When I hang up, Saint raps on the door and pokes his head in the room with a feline smile. I jump, praying he didn’t overhear that conversation. “I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“If you had let me pack a bag before kidnapping me from my house, I could’ve brought my own.”

When Saint said he packed our bags for us, I stupidly thought he stole clothes from my dresser or at the very least bought women’s clothes for me. Instead, article after article of clothing I pulled from the bag was full of loose, oversized men’s attire, all of it coated in his ink-and-paper scent.

“I need my muse to read my latest chapter.” He holds out his hand to me and leads the way downstairs.

His laptop rests on the kitchen island, and he hovers nearby while I read the scene on the screen. It’s so clearly fanfiction of us, I snort. In the scene, “Belle” and “Simon” have just committed murder, and they’re racing from the crime scene until they find a dark alley, where Simon picks her up, holds her against the wall, and fucks her, both of them still covered in blood and wearing their masks.

His imagination is absolutely sick and depraved, and my lips should definitely not be curling up into a smile.

“It’s really too bad I don’t have a mask,” I purr. “Maybe we can act this scene out sometime. For research purposes, of course. To verify the realism of the angles and physics.”

“In the meantime...”Saint strides for the light switch, plummeting us into darkness. When his hands land on my hips, he’s wearing his mask. “...Maybe we can act out one of your favorite scenes.”

My breath catches. I hope to god he’s talking about the first spicy scene in his debut novel, where the masked serial killer fucks the heroine on her kitchen table.

Saint lifts me by the back of my thighs and I wrap my legs around him. He plants my ass on the massive mahogany dining table. “Ah. So this is why you bought this table.”

“Exactly, muse,” he growls.

He yanks the shirt over my head first, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness and my heart already racing in anticipation.

“Are we going to be acting out every sex scene you’ve ever written?” I ask. “Because you’ve written a lot of them.”

I can’t see his mouth beneath his mask, but I know he’s smirking. “Sounds like we’ll be here for a while then.”

His expert fingers travel to the waistband of the boxers around my middle and yank them down my legs.

“I believe he feasted on the heroine for an hour. If I’m not mistaken.”

His chuckle echoes in his mask. “Yes, he didn’t quite have the endurance of his author.”

“You’re saying you could lick my pussy for over an hour?” I challenge.

“I’m saying I will lick you until my tongue falls off if that’s what you desire.”

My god, this man. “If your tongue falls off, what use would I have for you?”

He yanks me to the edge of the table, my bare ass squeaking across the surface. “My fingers and cock could still make you scream.”

I trace the painted flames on his mask that dance along his cheek, then glide my fingers across the inhuman white smile that both sends a shiver down my spine and makes my pussy clench.

To prove his point, he doesn’t lift his mask up to pleasure me with his mouth. Instead, his hands wrench my thighs apart, and his fingers find my clit, eliciting a moan from my lips. “You’ll never question what use you have for me again, muse.”

I whimper as he tears off my bra, ripping through the flimsy fabric and rendering it useless.

I grind my teeth. “That’s the only bra I had because someone wouldn’t let me pack more.”

“The fewer the clothes, the better. I fully intend on forcing you to walk around our home naked.”

Our home. Like I already live here with him. Saint de Haas is the most presumptuous, delusional, alluring man I’ve ever met. “And what if I get cold?”

“What have I told you, muse?” he growls and unsheathes his cock, not bothering to remove any of his clothes. Even though I ache to see every inch of him just as his eyes feast on me, there’s something arousing about him remaining fully covered while he nudges his tip at my entrance. “I will give you everything you need.”

Without another word, he buries his cock inside me, warming me from the inside out.

I scream at the unexpected intrusion, the stretch around his thick length painful. “Agh! Fuck!”

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