Page 122 of Two Sides of Sin

Sage was sitting cross legged on the plush rug in front of the floor length mirror, putting the finishing touches on her angel costume. She looked flawless, ethereal even. The structured white corset pushed her breasts up perfectly, a halo sat securely in her dark, styled waves, and dramatic, smoky makeup framed her eyes.

The sight of her was doing dangerous, terrible things to me below the belt.

But I couldn’t help periodically glancing down at the fake stab wound painted on her chest.

I was gripping the edge of the mattress so hard the wood frame was creaking under my knuckles. I had to physically restrain myself from crossing the room, dragging her up by the hips and bending her right over in front of that mirror. I wanted to ruin that innocent little outfit. I wanted to grip her waist and make her watch her own reflection as I took her from behind, showing her exactly who she belonged to.

I was so lost in the dark, filthy haze of my own thoughts and obsession that I must have fully dissociated for a minute.

“Julian.”

I blinked, snapping out of the feral trance. Sage had twisted around on the rug, shooting me a playful glare.

“I’m nearly ready,” she said, pointing a mascara wand at me accusingly. “It is time to put yours on.”

I let out a sigh, leaning back. “Do I have to?”

“Now,” she demanded, her glare instantly melting into a devastatingly cute, pleading pout. She batted her dark eyelashes at me, giving me the ultimate puppy dog eyes. “Pleaseeee?”

I didn’t stand a chance. I grabbed the crinkling plastic bag off the nightstand and walked into the adjoining master bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I stripped out of my clothes and pulled the floor length, hooded, black robe over my head. I slipped the black gloves on, wrapping the chain around my hand, and finally, I pulled the mask over my face. I stared at myself in the vanity mirror. The material was hot and heavy, it was a struggle to draw a full breath, and I felt like an absolute dickhead. A century-old, battle hardened dickhead playing dress-up.

But the second I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the bedroom, every single ounce of my insecurity instantly dissolved.

Sage stopped dead. The mascara wand slipped from her fingers, dropping onto the rug as her jaw dropped.

The playful, teasing look from earlier was now gone, incinerated by a look of uncontrollable desire. Her eyes wandered, taking in the towering silhouette of The Ripper standing in front of her. The fuck me eyes she had given me in the store were nothing compared to the dark, starving way she was looking at me now.

She shifted onto her hands and knees and started crawling across the bedroom floor towards me, her eyes locked onto the black mesh eyes of my mask the entire time.

I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe, fully playing into the character. I looked down at her sideways, giving her that classic, terrifying head tilt. I raised one black gloved hand, slowly beckoning her to me with a single finger.

She reached the toes of my boots, sinking back onto her heels. She looked up at the costume, her chest heaving against the tight confines of the corset.

“Such a good girl for me,” I praised, my voice muffled and distorted behind the heavy plastic, vibrating with a dark, commanding edge.

Sage licked her lips, her gaze dropping as her small hands reached up to my waist, unbothered by me standing over her.

“I feel like now is a good time to admit I was lying,” she declared, her gaze tracing the edges of the mask with a hunger that bordered on feral. Her voice was husky, dripping with a sudden seductiveness. “I really do want to blow the guy in the movie.”

Thank God I put this fucking stupid costume on. I was already painfully hard, aching to burst through the fabric of my pants. Looking down at her—an angel on her knees at the feet of the devil, her breasts pushed up, begging to be disheveled and ruined, shattered whatever was left of my restraint.

As she pulled me free and took me into her mouth, my head whipped back against the doorframe.

I instantly let out a rough, guttural moan that echoed behind the mask. The wet, slick heat of her mouth wrapping around me was complete ecstasy.

I didn’t hold back. I plunged my gloved hands into her perfectly styled hair, but it wasn’t enough. I needed her anchored.

Reaching down, I grabbed the heavy, darkened chain from the costume, the cold metal clinking with a lethal weight. She fought me, dragging us backwards until I slammed hard against my chest of drawers as I got the chain to anchor us. I looped it once around Sage’s neck, the links biting slightly into her skin as I pulled her flush against my thighs. I forced her to look up at me, and there it was—the look I’d been hunting for. Her eyes lit up, a frantic, shimmering collision of fear and desire.

She was terrified but she was obsessed.

I gripped the ends of the chain like a leash, holding her exactly where I wanted her. I thrust up into her mouth, abandoning any gentleness completely. I face-fucked her with a punishing force, completely dominating her as she swallowed my groans.

The friction was so impossibly tight, the visual of her neck bound in the iron links so incredibly hot, that my vision tunnelled at the display. I had to grind my teeth together, every muscle in my body locking up as I fought a desperate, losing battle to keep from coming right down her throat in the first thirty seconds.

My thighs were trembling, my hands locked mercilessly into her dark hair as she took me deeper. I was seconds away from totally losing my mind, my hips jerking, my breath catching in my throat as the perfect pressure built to a breaking point⁠—