PETRA #2
I shiver without noticing, because the “shrine” is just that creepy. And more importantly, was this altar a part of Arnoult’s dark ceremonies? Were wailing, masked victims brought here to be killed?
I shake my head; it seems to physically buzz with a swarm of difficult questions swirling.
“This place feels so spooky, Sin,” I whisper hoarsely.
The next instant, arms have settled on my shoulder, and I’m turned around.
“Don’t be scared, Petra,” Sin tells me in a low voice laced with an overpowering sensuality. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”
One of his hands sweeps back my hair and gently cradles the nape of my neck, while the other slides to my hips, gently clasping them.
As has been happening as of late, my body melts at his touch, and I lean into his palms, taking a deep sniff of his skin, the woodsy, citrusy smell underlined with notes of bitter pine, and he turns my chin toward him.
As we kiss, I sigh loudly, not caring who can hear in this abode of the dead, not caring that we are probably committing some sort of sacrilege.
The kiss deepens, with Sin gently pushing me back against the wall behind me, even as the whispering shadows of the crypt wrap around us like a thick fog.
It’s true that we’ve made rather disturbing discoveries about Arnoult and his followers, but in this moment, the rest of the world fades away, as Sin’s hand slides down my body, gently stroking the swell of my breasts and the padded roundness of my hips.
He leans ever closer, taking great care not to jostle me or the baby, and I can feel the hardness of him pushing against my knees, so I part my legs, gladly, because the ache between them has grown urgent and more intense in the last five minutes or so.
Damn, pregnant women must be jumping their husbands all the time, my inner voice cooly remarks in my head, but I’m too distracted to care about her snarky comments just now.
We kiss desperately, our hands roaming all over each other’s bodies.
In a daring gesture, I cup the bulge in Sin’s pants as he slips his tongue into my mouth.
He groans loudly before pushing his hips into my palm.
His fingers are fumbling with the stockings I have stretched over my inflated belly, and I shimmy out of them to help him.
In the next moment, his fingers are teasing my wet folds while he keeps nibbling and licking my lips. I moan again, my fingers tangling in his hair.
“Petra,” he murmurs against my lips, the sound sending a thrill coursing through me. “This feels so good . . . You have no idea.”
His voice breaks over that last word as I rub him harder.
“I think I might,” I reply breathlessly, feeling bold inside the hushed crypt.
“You’re so goddamn sweet, fuck.”
His fingers circle my clit, teasingly slipping in and out of my wet opening.
“Do you want me inside you?” Sin groans into my neck. “Do you want me to pleasure you? We could stay in bed the whole day, and I would get to know every inch of you.”
His fingers increase their pace, and the ache builds inside me so that I am gasping and moaning wildly. More than anything, his words set loose some feral spirit inside me, because I pull his face close to mine and almost take a bite of his lips.
“Don’t stop,” I murmur into his mouth, hitching my leg up slightly to whatever angle my rather enlarged belly will let me. “Oh God, don’t stop!” There’s a note of entreaty in my voice, and maybe it’s not even addressed to Sin. Maybe I’m just praying to the universe at this point.
“Not God. There is no god in this room, Petra. Just me. Say my name, sweet thing,” he growls in my ear.
“Sin, Sin, Sin,” I moan.
“Fuck, you’re so hot. So fucking hot and ready for me.”
He continues to perform an assault on my senses, his fingers digging so deep inside of me, it borders on painful. I never thought of myself as a masochist, but the bite of pain that accompanies the pleasure only increases my arousal.
“More,” I gasp.
Just as I teeter on the cusp of what promises to be an earth-shattering climax, he stops.
“I need to fuck you. I need inside you so badly.”
“Yes, yes,” I chant, unable to recognize my own lust-filled voice. “Please.” Anything to take off this edge, to fill this emptiness inside me.
We both struggle with his belt and then the zipper of his pants. I reach inside and wrap my hand around him, hard, hot, and so ready.
If I’d been in my right mind and not so overwhelmed by desire, I would have slowed things down to study him more, to get to know that part of him that’s already been inside of me.
I would have marveled at the sheer size of him, just as daunting as the first time, at the softness that belies that hardness.
Now, I only shiver in anticipation, knowing that he will not only fill this aching emptiness inside of me, but his size will bring just the right amount of pain to complement the pleasure.
He’s mine. This man is all mine. A wave of possessiveness pierces through me at knowing I’m the only one who’s ever touched him like this, who’s ever seen this side of him. It’s so unlike me that I have a hard time tempering it down.
Somehow, I know instinctively that if he ever strayed, things could get bloody. Am I a violent person? No, not really. But for him, I’ll make an exception.
“Don’t you ever dare look at another woman, Sin,” I warn as I tighten my hold on his cock in a warning.
“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. It seems I’m not the only one turned on by a bit of pain. “Keep saying that, Petra, and I’ll spend right here and now.”
“Is that so?” I drawl seductively.
“Never looked at another,” he says between gritted teeth. “Never will. Only you. Only ever you.”
“Good boy,” I murmur against his mouth as he nibbles on my lips.
“I love it when you’re jealous. I love it when you lay your claim on me.” He drags my lower lip into his mouth as his eyes find mine in the darkness.
I continue to move my hand up and down his cock while his fingers are still inside me, drawing out this torture.
“But make no mistake, Petra. I am just the same, if not worse. You have no idea what I’m capable of. For you. For us. For this.”
“What?” I ask in a breathless voice.
“I’d sell out the entire universe for you,” he whispers.
A sudden noise slices through the night—an eerie, heavy rustling that chills my heated body almost immediately.
I pull back instinctively, withdrawing my hands from Sin’s pants and pushing his hands away from between my legs.
“What was that?” I ask in a shaky voice, heart pounding as adrenaline spikes through my system.
Sin’s expression shifts from languid lust to alertness, and his brow furrows as he leans away from me and toward the entrance of the mausoleum, straining hard to listen.
“I don’t know. Sounds like something moving outside.”
More rustling, as if several feet are squelching through wet grass. I glance around the dark chamber, while the shadows stretch and shift in the wind. Only they are not just shadows of the stone angels and marble demons.
Something, or someone, is definitely outside. And they are coming for us.