Page 73 of Sinner’s Torment

Her entire body went rigid, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to decide that,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to show up here and start making demands like you have any right⁠—”

I didn’t let her finish.

I closed the distance between us in two strides, grabbed her face in both hands, and kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was raw and desperate and fueled by every ounce of frustration and need that had been building since the moment I’d arrived at this house. Since the moment I’d learned she was pregnant. Since the moment I’d realized I couldn’t lose her. All the words I’d been too afraid to say, all the feelings I’d been too proud to admit—they all poured into that kiss.

She stiffened for half a second, her hands coming up to push against my chest. I could feel her resistance, the wall she’d built between us. But then something shifted. Something broke. The tension in her body gave way, melting into something else entirely. And suddenly she was kissing me back with the same desperate intensity, her fingers curling into my shirt, pulling me closer. Her breath came in short gasps between kisses, and I could taste the salt of tears on her lips—whether hers or mine, I couldn’t tell.

The tension that had been crackling between us since I’d arrived—the anger, the hurt, the unspoken desire—ignited like gasoline thrown on an open flame. Every argument, every glance, every moment of restraint burned away in an instant, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered need.

I backed her toward the wall, my hands sliding down to her waist, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. The heat between us was electric, crackling with an intensity that made my pulse pound in my ears. She gasped against my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, claiming her in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to before. My tongue swept against hers, tasting her, devouring her, and she met me stroke for stroke, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough that I knew I’d bear the crescents of her desperation on my skin for days.

“Torment,” she breathed when I broke the kiss to trail my lips down her neck, biting gently at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her voice was ragged, trembling with need. “We can’t—my family is downstairs⁠—”

“I don’t care,” I growled against her skin, my hands already working at the button of her jeans. My fingers fumbled with urgency, impatient and demanding. “I need you. Right now.” The words came out raw, primal, stripped of any pretense or control.

She didn’t argue. Didn’t protest. She just nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I yanked her jeans and panties down her legs in one swift motion. She kicked them off impatiently, and I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively as I pressed her against the wall. The cool surface contrasted with the heat radiating from our bodies, and she clung to me like I was the only solid thing in her world.

The position was perfect—her back against the solid surface, her body open and vulnerable to me, her eyes wide and dark with desire. I could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, hear the shallow, desperate quality of her breathing. I could feel the heat of her through my jeans, could feel how wet she already was, and it took every ounce of control I had not to just take her right then and there.

But I wanted to savor this. Wanted to make her feel every second of what she did to me. Wanted her to understand exactly how much power she held over me, how completely she’d undone me with nothing more than a look, a touch, a whispered word.

I shifted my grip, holding her up with one arm while my other hand slid between her thighs, tracing along the soft skin there. She was soaked, her body already primed and ready, responding to my touch with an eagerness that made my blood run hot. When I slid two fingers inside her, she let out a choked moan that went straight to my cock. Her inner walls clenched around me, hot and slick and impossibly tight, and I had to grit my teeth against the overwhelming urge to bury myself inside her immediately.

“Quiet,” I murmured, my lips brushing against the delicate shell of her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “You don’t want your family to hear, do you?” My voice was low and rough, barely more than a whisper, but the warning in it was unmistakable.

She shook her head frantically, biting down hard on her lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. Her chest heaved with the effort of staying silent, her body trembling beneath mine. But when I curled my fingers inside her, hitting that spot deep within that made her see stars, she couldn’t hold back the whimper that tore from her throat.

I covered her mouth with my free hand, pressing my palm firmly against her lips, muffling the sound before it could carry down the hallway. Her eyes flew open, meeting mine in the dim light filtering through the curtains. There was something wild in her gaze, something untamed and desperate, like a caged animal finally set free, and it made my control snap completely.

I pulled my fingers out of her, slick and glistening, ignoring her muffled protest and the way her hips bucked up, seeking more contact. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with my belt and zipper, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, throbbing with need. I didn’t waste time with finesse or preparation. I lined myself up at her entrance, feeling her heat, and thrust into her in one hard, brutal stroke that buried me to the hilt.

She cried out against my palm, her body arching off the wall, her legs tightening around my waist as waves of sensation crashed over her. Her fingers clawed at my shoulders, desperate for purchase, for something to anchor herself to as I filled her completely. I gave her a second to adjust—just one—allowing her to catch her breath and feel the stretch, the fullness, before I started moving. Hard. Fast. Relentless.

The angle was perfect, every thrust driving me deeper, hitting that spot inside her that made her shake and tremble in my arms. Her back pressed against the cool wall, creating a delicious contrast to the heat building between us. I could feel her tightening around me, her inner walls clenching and pulsing, could feel the way her body responded to every movement, every shift of my hips, every deliberate grind. She was close already, teetering on that edge, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood, leaving crescent marks in my skin, her muffled moans vibrating against my palm as she struggled to contain the sounds threatening to escape.

“That’s it,” I growled against her ear, my voice rough and strained, barely recognizable even to myself. “Take it. Take all of me.” My breath was hot against her neck, my words punctuated by each powerful thrust as I claimed her completely.

She nodded frantically, her eyes rolling back, losing focus as the sensations overwhelmed her, and I felt the first flutter of her orgasm beginning to build deep within her core. The telltale trembling of her thighs, the way her breath hitched and caught in her throat—I knew she was close. I shifted my angle slightly, adjusting my position to hit that perfect spot, grinding against her clit with every deliberate thrust, applying just the right amount of pressure and friction, and that was all it took. She came apart in my arms, her entire body convulsing and shuddering uncontrollably, her muscles clenching and releasing in rhythmic waves, her scream muffled by my hand as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her, drowning her in ecstasy.

But I didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t give her a moment to recover or catch her breath. I kept fucking her through it, maintaining that relentless pace, chasing my own release with single-minded determination, my hips slamming into hers with a primal force that made the wall shake and rattle, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the room. She was so tight, her walls gripping me like a vise, so wet that I could feel her arousal coating my length with every stroke, so perfect in every way, and I could feel my control slipping away like sand through my fingers, feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

And then she bit down on my palm—hard—without warning, her teeth sinking into the flesh with surprising force, breaking through the skin, and the sharp, stinging pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, the contrasting sensations blending together in a way that short-circuited my brain and sent me over the edge. I came with a guttural groan that tore from deep in my chest, burying myself as deep as I could go, bottoming out completely, my cock pulsing and throbbing as I emptied myself inside her, filling her with hot spurts of release that seemed to go on forever.

For a long moment, we just stayed like that—her back pressed firmly against the wall, my hand still covering her mouth to muffle any sounds, both of us breathing hard and trembling with the aftershocks of what had just happened between us. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, a rapid rhythm that matched my own. Could feel the way her body was still clenching around me, pulsing with involuntary contractions, milking every last drop from me as we came down from the high together.

Slowly, carefully, I lowered my hand from her mouth, my fingers trailing across her jaw as I did. She gasped for air immediately, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips were swollen and red from our kisses, from the way she’d bitten down on them to keep from crying out. Her eyes were glazed with satisfaction, half-lidded and unfocused, still lost somewhere in the pleasure we’d just shared. I pressed my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us, and for the first time since I’d arrived at this godforsaken house, I felt like I could actually breathe. Like the weight on my chest had lifted, even if just for a moment.

“Torment,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaky, barely more than a breath against my lips.

“Yeah?” I murmured back, not moving away, not wanting to break whatever fragile connection we’d just forged.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

The words hit me like cold water, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze directly, to search her eyes for what she really meant. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t solve anything,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice. No certainty or determination behind the words. Just exhaustion and confusion and the lingering haze of pleasure that still clouded both of our minds. She wasn’t even convincing herself, let alone me.