Page 61 of Sinful Lord

It’s mine.

“Why are you here?” I suddenly feel the urge to ask.

In response, Tytus’ silver-blue eyes drift over my shoulder.

I know what he’s looking at. But before I can turn to see the video still quietly playing on the laptop screen, he reaches over and clicks it shut.

“I thought I might be able to stop you from seeing that filth.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” I shamefully admit, far too quickly.

My toes curl as I remember how this giant man looked naked.

My eyelids flutter. The pressure in my core expands. I want to see it again. I want to see it in person. No matter how crazy that is.

I’m clearly losing my mind. And, right now, I’m okay with that. This moment is mine—even if I’m not really in control.

“Interesting,” Tytus muses, a playful lilt running through his voice. “I thought you’d be horrified by the video.”

“Well, I was… eventually.”

The forearm Tytus has planted between my legs relaxes as he purses his blood-red lips and shakes his head.

“I won’t treat you like that,” he gently insists. “You deserve so much more care.”

The assurance helps ease some of my fear. But part of me is strangely disappointed too.

“And what if I didn’t want you to treat me so gently?”

The stare Tytus gives me makes my whole body shiver.

“You can’t handle that, little dove.”

It’s only when my chest starts to pound that I realize it had stopped beating.

“What can I handle?” I breathlessly ask, entirely lost in the intimate moment.

I’m flirting. For the first time, I’m freaking flirting, and it feels… right.

It feels good.

I want more.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The forearm fixed between my legs finally lifts. But so does the hand around my jaw.

For a moment, I’m returned to a cold empty world.

Then, both hands are on my legs, stretching out just above my knees. My thighs are pulled apart.

“Open your legs for me, angel. I promise to make you cum before I fill you up,” Tytus grumbles. “It’s the only way I’m going to fit.”

Before I can respond, he touches those thick blood-red lips of his against the inside of my thigh.

A gasp rips from my throat. My fingers are immediately in his hair, grabbing on for dear life.

“Slow…” I beg. “Please.”