Page 155 of Sinister

Then laugh.

Before I know it, we’re in the middle of a riot of color—shrieking, dodging, flinging paint across each other like children. I forget everything else. The rules. The fear. Even the fact that he’s still naked.

All I can do is laugh and spray a streak of green across his stomach.

But just as I reach for another tube, he lunges.

Paints in hand, he tackles me gently to the ground, sending us tumbling among the scattered brushes and tubes. I expect a new volley of color to hit my face, but instead—he shifts.

He pins me softly beneath him, balancing with one hand, while the other goes to my bodice.

In one swift motion, he tears it open.

Cool air hits my exposed skin.

I suck in a breath, but he’s already shaking up a tube of red paint—and then pouring it directly across my stomach, letting it run like liquid silk over my skin.

He watches, transfixed.

Then he lowers his hand, spreading his fingers wide, and presses it against the paint.

A crimson handprint blooms across my body.

“So beautiful,” he whispers. His voice is reverent. Almost worshipful. “So beautiful . . . and so mine. You have no idea what you do to me, Petra, do you?” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “You have no idea how much you excite me . . . how damn much you turn me on.”

My lips part slightly, breath catching as I stare into his face—into the wild intensity darkening his eyes. But my gaze betrays me.

Slowly, involuntarily, it drifts downward.

There.

It had only been a glimpse before, barely a peek, but now . . . now it’s different.

Bigger. Much bigger.

My mind scrambles to comprehend it. Is that normal? I think, stunned. How is that even possible?

Perhaps he didn’t sell his soul for a kiss, but he might have sold it for an inhumanly large . . . appendage.

And then, because the situation is so absurd, so surreal, I let out a breathless little laugh.

He arches a brow. “What are you laughing at?”

I hesitate, then point vaguely in the direction of his lower half. “I was just thinking . . .” I trail off, trying to suppress the grin tugging at my lips. “Did you sell your soul for that?”

His expression freezes. “You think I made a deal with the devil for a big cock?” he repeats, blinking in disbelief.

And that only makes me laugh harder.

“You little minx,” he says with a chuckle.

“Do you blame me for thinking that? It’s alarmingly large.”

“It is quite the compliment, I must confess.”

“A compliment?” I laugh. “You, sir, need to learn what a compliment is. That was merely an observation.”

“Still a compliment.” He winks at me. “But have no fear, I won’t hurt you, nor will I take you today.” He leans forward, his cock nestled between my legs as he thrusts it forward over my mons. A shiver goes down my back.