The Sleeper's Harp (The Arcane Artifacts, #1)

Chapter 15 - A Taste of Sin

She was aching for him. Bastian could smell it, sense it in the sounds she made, so much better than the ones she'd made eating his food. Then, she nodded. His restraint faltered. He cupped her breast, gripping, pushing, while his other hand swept beneath her panties.

His fingers slid into the folds of her pussy, and he hissed. "So wet for me, Sugar? Did I do this to you?" She whimpered, pushing her hips against his hand. Answer enough.

He dragged his fingers along her slit, back and forth, then circled her clit. She felt like a fucking sin, a forbidden fruit, smooth and warm. His dick throbbed, pressed tight in the confines of his jeans, desperate to bury in deep where his fingers played. She groaned again, head falling back against the wall, pink wisps of hair framing her face, eyelids fluttering, struggling to remain open.

His gaze stayed fixed on her face, feasting on every expression that flashed over her features. So fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.

Humans weren't supposed to appeal to his senses, not after everything in his past. He was crossing so many lines, and for once, he didn't give a single fuck. After he had time to process, he'd likely regret this.

But not now, not in this moment.

Desperate to see what she felt like inside, he slipped a finger in. She sucked in a breath. Her eyes opened wide, locked on his. That look had his balls tightening, stealing his breath. He wanted to rip her leather mini skirt right off, turn her against the wall, smack her ass for being such a fucking tease, hard enough to see the outline of his hand, then fuck her until she screamed.

No. He wouldn't go that far. This was where it stopped. His hand—nothing more. It was better that way. He'd make her come, then leave, get control over himself, and move the fuck on.

She'd be too much of a distraction, otherwise. And too much of everything else. Everything he couldn't have and didn't want.

"Bastian," she gasped. That one word had those thoughts sliding right out of his mind.

"Say it again, baby girl," he begged.

"Bastian," she whimpered, grinding against his finger, showing him exactly how she'd move those gorgeous hips if it was his cock instead. He pulled out and replaced the one with two, dipping in and out, fast and then slow, scissoring them inside her.

"Oh, fuck!" she moaned.

"You're drenched, Sugar. So fucking wet. This pussy has been desperate for me all night, hasn't it? Desperate since you first laid eyes on me?"

"Mmm..."

"Answer me, baby girl. Let me hear you say it."

"Yes. All night—since yesterday."

He groaned and didn't care that he did. If he wasn't careful...

He clenched his teeth until they ached. That didn't matter, it didn't keep him from grinding against her, grinding to the rhythm of his fingers. He pressed his palm into her clit.

"Oh, God, I'm going to—"

He halted, stopping the orgasm that nearly swept her over the top. "Don't say, God," he admonished. "God doesn't have his fingers in you right now. I do. God isn't making you feel good. I am. You got that, Sugar?"

Her eyes focused and unfocused. He expected her to argue. Instead, "Please don't stop, Bastian," she begged.

He could deny her nothing. His fingers moved, sliding back in, fucking her harder than before. The wet sounds left him panting.