Inna's pov
"Why the fuck are you angry now?" Sin's voice started me.
He was not supposed to be here. He looked sexy wearing a polo shirt in navy blue tucked into black jeans. Looking at him like this looking like the devil made me angry. I was angry at myself and my heart. After our last encounter in the art room, again Sin had not slept in his room because of me and we didn't talk that much.
I can not find anything to paint, I don't have any idea any inspiration. My mind was a blank page.
Empty.
And I don't know what to do. I've tried reading and liking the books Sin gave me. But nothing helped. I was fucking mad about it. An abyss of creativity, a vacuum of inspiration—I was stuck in a cycle of frustration and uncertainty. I turned to my paints and brushes, hoping that the tactile sensation of their bristles against the canvas would somehow reignite the spark I desperately needed.
I can hear his steps approaching me. I sighed.
"You do have no inspiration? The little plamya is empty of ideas?" He teased, it was obvious that I was out of feelings.
My mind was blank. I stood in front of my canvas for two hours.
Still nothing.
"Maybe I can help you with that?" He said making me turn to him for the first time, "What do you mean?"
"Stand." He ordered.
I did.
Suddenly he was everywhere and making me struggle to the window. He drew nearer, his proximity unsettling, and in an unanticipated move, he slid his hand beneath my shirt. The delicate barrier of my bra offered no resistance as his fingers danced, his touch igniting a visceral response. A rush of longing coiled within me, undeniable and urgent.
He twisted my nipple. At once, my core tightened with need. "I know that you love it when I touch you," he growled.
"I am know of your arousal. Your desires resonate, unspoken but it speaks to me," he asserted, his words brazen and knowing.
Subsiding to his knees, he orchestrated the swift removal of my tights and panties, leaving me bewildered. My protest was but a breath, silenced by his tender advance as his lips met my fevered skin.
I inhaled sharply, a gasp of surprise escaping me. He navigated my defenses, freeing a leg from its confines, and draping it over his shoulder with an enigmatic gaze that held mine captive. As his tongue caressed my parted folds languidly.
Drawing nearer, he tenderly grazed his lips against my fevered skin, prompting an involuntary gasp that escaped me. My startled inhalation hung suspended in the charged air, a testament to the electrifying shift in our shared space. With deftness, Sin orchestrated the liberation of one of my legs from the confines of my garments, a gesture both unexpected and calculated. Gently, he elevated it, draping it over his shoulder with a calculated intimacy that held a promise.
Sin pulled back a couple of inches.
"See, I knew it. your desire speaks to me," he said in a rough voice. He pressed a few kisses against me before suckling lightly. My eyes wanted to roll back in my head from the sensation.
"Has anyone ever done this to you?" he asked fiercely.
I couldn't even find the power to lie.
I shook my head.
"Good." He rewarded me with a mind-blowing kiss, his tongue tracing my opening, then darting back up to my entrance.
"Oh God," I whispered.
