Page 220 of Sinister

“What do you need, Petra?” he asks huskily. “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“I don’t know⁠—”

He sneaks his hand between our bodies and touches me there, circling that pleasure point once, twice, applying more pressure.

And just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the explosion comes—so much more intense than before, so much more powerful that I end up screaming, digging my nails into his back, scratching him and drawing blood.

“That’s it. Come with me,” he commands. “Come with me, my love.”

His movements become out of control as he chases his own high, and then it happens. He nestles his head between my breasts, biting my skin as he convulses around me. I feel his hot release coating my insides just as he lets out another shout of pleasure before going still again.

We’re both breathing heavily. I’m dazed, unable to concentrate on anything but the warmth he provides, the feel of his body glued to mine. So much emotion explodes in my chest right where that mark pulses with life—the living proof of our eternal bond.

He licks his way up my breasts, kissing me on the lips again.

Yet just as I think it’s over, that we’re both finished, I find myself flipped onto my stomach with him behind me, his hand in my hair.

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PETRA

His hardness is between my ass cheeks as he gathers the hair around my nape into a tight fist, pulling me backward so he can bite my neck again.

It’s vicious, painful—yet perhaps I am just as deranged as he is because without any other stimulation, I come the moment his teeth pierce the barrier of my skin.

I cry out, sobs making my body tremble as every logical thought flees my head.

He pulls harder on my hair, my scalp tingling from the pain. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to stop, that it hurts, but the only things that come out are more pleas.

“Please . . . put me out of my misery,” I beg.

I should want him to stop, but all I can do is beg for more. He slowly licks the blood trickling down my back before kissing his way down my spine.

Just as I think he’s finally going to thrust into me again, he surprises me with a change of direction. Still clutching my hair with one hand, he reaches between my buttocks with the other, his finger probing at a different hole.

The sensation is so foreign, so unexpected, that I stiffen.

“Sin, what are you doing?” I stammer.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Petra?” he murmurs in a lust-clouded voice.

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Then you’re wholly mine. Every single thing about you is mine, including this.”

His finger pushes against the barrier of my hole, and I react instinctively, trying to get away from him, from this intrusion.

This is odd; I’ve never heard of anything like this.

What is he doing? This isn’t how our consummation should be, right?

But the more I pull away, the more he yanks my hair, keeping me in place while he works his digit inside my bottom.

At first, it’s only one, then it’s two. It hurts, but there’s also something else⁠—

“Sin, what are you doing?” I demand, shocked by my own reaction.

He whispers, “You begged me to take you, remember? So I am. I am taking you.”