Sweet Sinclair (Masters of the Castle) by Maren Smith

Author:Maren Smith [Smith, Maren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blushing Books Publications
Published: 2014-01-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter NINE

He was killing her. He was absolutely killing her. Did he even know he was doing it? Sinclair couldn't tell. His face was too hard to read, but she herself, she knew, had to be an open book. She felt consumed in raw flame, so intense in places it felt like licks of real fire tickling up between her clenching thighs, all the way to the very pit of her belly. Her nipples were throbbing, but then, peacock nipple clamps would do that to a girl.

“Take off your jeans.” Parker sat back in the same metal folding chair he’d occupied while they’d been working side by side. He’d pushed it back from the table and now sat simply watching while she undressed herself for him. Her breasts were swollen, pulsing and aching, her nipples shone wet with the saliva of his suckling kisses—he was such a breast man; it felt like he’d spent hours on them before firmly attaching each clamp. She dreaded that moment when she, inevitably, had to obey. She was so wet already, as dark as this room was, he couldn’t help but see exactly what he did to her. Not that she was being discrete about her responses.

Her hands shook as she unbuttoned her fly, peeled the zipper down and pushed the stiff denim over her hips, bottom and thighs. She wished she’d been a little more awake this morning when she had dressed. How funny, that she should be so unbelievably preoccupied with all he’d done to her last night that she hadn’t even considered dressing accordingly for tonight’s repeat performance. But no, she’d put on her customary sports bra and blue panties and rushed off to work. Just once she wanted him to see her in something sexy, or lacy, or that matched.

Picking her discarded jeans up off the floor, she folded them—more a nervous gesture than fastidious tidiness—and put them on top of her shoes under the table. With nothing else to do, she quietly stood before him, fiddling with her fingers and waiting to be commanded again.

She liked this. Something was seriously wrong with her, but she did. She liked the feel of his collar—his—and she liked being naked—well, almost naked—while he remained fully clothed. She felt vulnerable just standing here. And yet, she also felt safe, because this was Parker. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wanted her too. She wasn’t lying; she really could see that on his face. So why, oh why, did he feel such a need to tell her he wouldn’t make love to her?

“Panties,” Parker said, having looked his fill. “Take them down.”

Sinclair tried to focus on her breathing. Slow in, slow out. Don’t panic. Don’t shake. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear, skimming them down to the floor. She folded those neatly too, looking everywhere but at him until she had nothing else to do but place them upon her jeans and stand up straight again.

“Hands on your head,” he said when she tried to cup her mons and hide at least a little bit.

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