Winter

Chapter Six: Unravel

The Sinner leans closer, and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to shy away in embarrassment. Proximity alarms scream inside your skull, warning you that someone is getting too close to your skin, and you need to back away before something happens that you might regret. His breath feels like a gentle butterfly against your cheek, warm, soft, sending little zaps of pleasure running down your spine. When his lips brush against your jaw, it's like a single spark hitting against a dry bush. His mouth travels, trailing small, chaste kisses down to the crook of your neck. Your core shutters once, the flame taking a moment to catch, but the heat spreads like a forest fire, your body quickly becoming almost hot enough to be feverish.

You stay still yet, backside pressed up against the table as the Sinner ravishes your flesh with his mouth, moving from your neck to your collarbone, even having the gall to tug at your neckline with his teeth. Just a moment later, he looks up, almost overpoweringly smug at the sight of your red face, popping back up to give you an impossibly chaste kiss on the lips. He hovers, mouth barely a hair's width away.

"I should be a gentleman and ask you to my chambers." The Sinner's voice is straining to remain neutral.

"You have never once struck me as a gentleman," you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Oh?" He arches his eyebrows, amused. "Do tell. What kind of reputation do I have with you?"

You think back to the letters in his desk and the numerous rumors listed in the journals. "You are a Grade-A Whore."

He laughs, eyes wild with a lusty intensity you have never seen before. "A whore, you say?" The Sinner muses, grabbing for your hips and massaging the clothed skin between his fingers. "Would you have me to fuck you like a filthy whore, then? Take you like I am a dog in heat?"

"I don't know, do you think you can handle being treated like one?"

At your challenge, the Sinner's mouth curves into an almost sinister smile. With a single motion, he swipes at the unfilled dishes lining the table, the pottery shattering against the unforgiving marble. The thrust of his pelvis pushes you up onto the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. Oh god, you can feel his half-hard erection already, pressing up against your thighs as he begins to grind. The sweet, sweet friction that you have been missing nearly brings you to tears as a wave of wetness begins to seep out from between your thighs.

You reach out, pawing blindly at the clasp of his cape until you manage to pull on it just correctly for it to release, the long, flowing cloth easily dropping to the ground. Next, you grab a fistful of his shirt, bringing yourself up to kiss him almost hard enough to hurt. "This. Off. Now."

"Yes, ma'am," the Sinner says, approvingly, as though his obedience to your orders sends a thrill of blood spiraling down to his cock. Slender, pale fingers yank the hem out from the waist of his pants, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it carelessly somewhere behind his shoulder. Wasting no time, you raise your hand and palm one of his pecs, his blue-tinted nipple sharp with arousal. Your fingers glide up to his collarbone, skin so much more smooth and soft than you had imagined in the dead of night, red face pressed against a pillow to anchor yourself in reality. He definitely exfoliates, there's no question about that.

The blouse you have on is a mess of buttons, all of which you can barely manage to get off. The Sinner hastily pulls at the straps of your undershirt, helping to get the cotton over your head, exposing your chest. Once more, he bends over to kiss you, hard and possessive as he guides your hands to undo the buckle of his belt. After kicking off his boots, the soft, black trousers slide down his legs, quickly followed by his undergarment. Thighs? Just as powerful as described. Cock? Phantom bursts of pleasure burn inside your core as you look at it.