Sinclair - Chapter Twenty-One: Say My Name

Even as he pulls a falsely wounded face, the lustful look in his eyes doesn't dissipate. It seems to me that it's just growing stronger with each passing second.

"And here, I thought you'd always need me."

My lips turn up into a smile and I say, "Well, I don't."

We hold gazes across the room and, not breaking eye contact, Sinclair crosses the room so that we're standing toe to toe. The heat of his body makes me feel strong and I stand up straighter, our gazes never parting the entire while.

"Are you flirting with me, little goddess?"

I flush in embarrassment because that's exactly what I was doing. I was most definitely flirting with him. It was something that happened before I even had a chance to think about it, my body's involuntary response to the air that surrounded Sinclair and me.

"You should leave, Sinclair," I tell him, my voice is pleading because I know what will come if he doesn't leave.

"Make me," he says as he moves his hands down the side of my body lightly before grabbing a handful of my ass and squeezing it. He gives me that familiar slow smirk, the one that is so much like a fox that knows it won't be punished for its actions.

I place my hands on his chest but, to the sane part of my mind's horror, I'm reveling in the feeling of the hard contours of his chest. I'm remembering that night when we kissed in the parking lot. I hadn't really taken my time to feel the hardness of his chest, then. My body wanted so badly for me to do that now. To feel him up like I was some kind of lecherous old man.

"You have to leave, Sinclair." By this point, it really does sound more like I'm begging him. If he weren't holding me so close, I probably would have dropped to my knees and begged him to get out.

Because I know what's coming.

"What did I tell you the last time we spoke in your car, little goddess?" he asks, rubbing my bottom lip softly as he stares down at me with a gaze that is half mischievous and half serious. "Answer me."

I shake my head, attempting to shake his warm hand off of my skin and put some distance between us. He didn't seem like he was having that, though. He gripped my chin a little harder, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough for me to stop struggling and look at him. Excitement welled up in my chest even though my mind was trying to beat it back. That look of domination in his eyes made my knees weak in the best of ways.

"Answer me," he demanded. "What did I say? If I have to ask you again, little goddess, I'll punish you." When he whispers those words, he does it so silkily and so sexily that my lips part in longing despite myself.

"You said practice makes perfect," I finally answer in a breathy voice, all of my earlier steadiness is gone.

"Good girl," he praises me, his hand moves from my lips and trails along my jaw, moving to my neck. My skin is like a trail and his hands are a fire blazing its way through, scorching everything in its wake. Every nerve, every vein of life, everything is scorched and left to ash under the feeling of his fingers.

When he puts his lips on mine, my stupid ass doesn't even try to fight him. I let his lips dominate mine and all I can do is press myself closer to him, feeling like my eyes are rolling in the back of my head. This kiss isn't like the kiss we shared in the parking lot. This one is slower and is burning a little hotter. During that last kiss, we were making up for lost time. It had been tangled, frenzied. With this kiss, he seems to have no worries of interruptions, no thoughts of anything other than my bedroom.

It's me who has to pull away first, moving my lips away from his to gasp for air. When I do, he takes that opportunity to lift me up and spin me, so that we're turned away from the window and instead, I'm on the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Didn't I tell you that I was going to use my tongue on you right here in your kitchen, little goddess?" he asks. Through my haze filled mind, I dimly recall him saying such a thing. He starts to hitch the hem of the dress I'm wearing, his fingers caressing my inner thigh.

"Do you want me to please you, little goddess?"

"Yes," I whisper before I can stop myself.

"Then say my name. Say the name I want to hear."

And even though I knew there would be no taking this back once it was done, even though I knew it was completely selfish of me to do it, my mind was only filled with Sinclair. His hands caressing me in intimate places, his gaze burning through mine as he watched me, his body pressed so close to mine and yet not close enough.

Yeah, I knew that it would be stupid and I knew that it was wrong but I was so filled with Sinclair and yet not filled enough.

And so, for the second time, I whispered the name I knew would drive him over the edge.

"Sin," I gasped.

Sinclair - Chapter Twenty-One: Say My Name - Page 2 (2024)