Page 78 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

I leaned back, letting go of her hand, though the warmth of it clung to mine. ‘Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m waiting for you to stop pretending you don’t feel it too.’

Her laugh was quiet, shaky, but it was the first real laugh I’d heard from her. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘Perhaps.’ I lifted my glass in mock salute. ‘But you’re still here.’

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away. The tension between us shifted—less sharp, less defensive. Something fragile and dangerous threaded through it instead.

Her voice dropped low, thoughtful. ‘Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do if I gave you a chance.’

I smiled faintly. ‘I’d try not to waste it.’

When the last plate was cleared and the maître d’ bowed us out. I didn’t ask, I simply rose, offering my hand. She hesitated, but eventually slid her fingers into mine, and the spark of her touch seared straight to my cock.

A swirl of seafoam, a shift of air, and we were back in her suite in the Underworld, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathing the space in delicate light. I lingered, every muscle straining with restraint I didn’t have. She looked ready to tell me to go to hell—ironic, considering where we were standing—but then her lips parted, just slightly, and that was it… the tether snapped.

In a heartbeat, I closed the distance, one hand curving around the nape of her neck, the other sliding to her hip, hauling her flush against me. My mouth crashed onto hers—consuming, desperate, a storm I’d held back for far too long.

She moaned, and I devoured the sound, my tongue sweeping in, claiming and demanding. She tasted of wine and dissent, heady and addictive, and I drank her like a man parched for her taste. Her hands pressed against my chest, not pushing me away, but clutching—as if she hated that she wanted this as much as I did.

Her lips were soft, pliant, yet she kissed me back with a fury that matched my own. Gods, she was fire—burning me, branding me, and making me want more than I should ever dare. The kiss deepened, turning hungrier, until the world outside us ceased to exist. There was only her. My Little Red… my obsession… my undoing.

When I finally tore myself away, my breath ragged, I pressed my forehead to hers, forcing control back into my voice.

‘You’ll be the death of me, Little Red,’ I rasped, though the truth was simpler… without her, I wasn’t sure I’d survive at all.

She turned without a word, the sway of her hips deliberate, and crossed to the door. Click. The lock slid into place. Then she strode to the connecting doors leading to Guinn’s suite and locked those too. My cock twitched at the sound, at the intent as my pulse thundered in my veins, each beat harder, faster, until it was a jackhammer in my chest.

When she faced me again, her eyes burned with mutiny—and something darker, hungrier… lust. My mouth watered, and my cock hardened into a monument of need. Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the tie from around my neck, my smile wicked and sharp.

‘Take off your dress, Little Red,’ I murmured, my voice rough silk. ‘I still owe you a punishment... A long overdue punishment.’

Those ocean-blue eyes locked with mine, and for the briefest moment, I caught it—a spark of excitement flickering in their depths. She turned without a word, offering me her back, sweeping her hair over one shoulder in a deliberate gesture of surrender. My fingers found the zipper, dragging it down inch by inch, the metallic whisper slicing through the silence, sharp and intimate.

As the dress pooled at her feet, she stepped free of it, and for a heartbeat the image dragged me back—to my penthouse, to the moment before she drove a dagger through my chest. My jaw tightened, eyes narrowing on her like a blade poised to strike.

She must have read the memory in my stare, because her voice came soft, almost fragile. ‘I am truly sorry, Si.’

I didn’t acknowledge the apology, not aloud. Instead, I gave her a sharp nod, my gaze hard as steel. ‘Give me your hands. Now.’

Her eyes widened, surprise sparking, but she extended her wrists towards me without a word. Submission wrapped in defiance. Exactly how I liked her.

‘Good girl,’ I murmured darkly, wrapping the silk tie around them, binding her in a way that was as much possession as restraint. She belonged to me in this moment—helpless and caught.

Gods, the sight of her was enough to drive me feral. Bound and waiting, my little assassin stood in nothing but a whisper of lace. Her bra barely contained the swell of her breasts, nipples hard and begging for my mouth. That scrap of a thong? It was a torment, a tease, a promise of how easily I could ruin her with a single flick of my tongue. And those heels—fuck—they lengthened her legs, arching her body into perfection; she was sin sculpted for me alone.

She lifted her chin, wilful even now, but she couldn’t hide the heat smouldering in her eyes. I still towered over her, her wrists bound, her body trembling with a mixture of obstinacy and need. My cock throbbed in response, hard enough to ache. Hunger gnawed at me, dark and consuming—I wanted, needed, to taste every inch of her, to mark her all over again, to hear her scream my name until her voice was wrecked.

She was mine. And I would feast until she broke beneath me.

I caught her wrists and bound them high, looping the tie over a sconce so she was stretched taut—arms straining, spine curving, chest thrust forward, ass arched perfectly for me. The sight alone drew a low growl. One step closed the distance, and my hand circled her throat, firm but not cruel, tilting her head back so I could claim her mouth. I kissed her hard—hungry and punishing—her body pressed tight to mine, her soft whimper vibrating against my tongue.

When I released her, I let my palm trail slow and deliberate from the delicate line of her throat, around and down the elegant curve of her spine. Her skin was silk beneath my hand, then—thwack—I brought my palm down hard on the curve of her ass. She gasped, a low, desperate sound, and the sound alone made my cock throb painfully.

I soothed the sting with a firm rub, then bent and pressed a lingering kiss to the reddened flesh. She shivered, and I struck again, switching cheeks this time—sharp and deliberate. She moaned, her voice thick and broken, head falling forward as I alternated the rhythm: slap, caress, kiss… punishment and pleasure, fire and balm, until her skin bloomed crimson beneath my hand and she was trembling, groaning deep in her throat.

I dragged my fingers down the length of her arms, slow and soothing, as my mouth grazed the back of her neck. I let my fangs tease her skin—barely breaking the surface, just enough to make her shudder—while my fingers found her nipples through the lace. I rolled and tugged them until her soft whimpers broke into the air, each one like fuel poured straight into my veins.

My tongue traced a path down her spine, tasting every inch until I reached the curve of her ass. Hooking a finger under the flimsy lace, I tore it aside, baring her completely to me. I spread her with one hand, and with a snarl of hunger, I pressed my tongue between her cheeks, circling that tight, forbidden place.