Page 19 of A Taste like Sin

platform. From this angle, I have no idea where he’s positioned. My only clues are the nuanced shifts

in the air. His breathing. His scent.

“Are you ready?” Gone is the smug mocking from his voice. I picture his nostrils flaring, his tongue

flicking along his lower lip.

With what I suspect is another practiced motion, he finds the tray near my hip and noisily drags it

closer to him, allowing the edge to brush my skin so I can feel every single inch.

Tiny pings make me assume that the pearls are colliding with the sides of the tray. Each delicate click

sends my heart surging just a bit faster. There are too many possibilities for him to implement the

words he said. Use the pearls to explore me. But how?

I’m so lost in thought that I almost miss the moment he seizes one of the ivory balls between his thumb

and his forefinger: the only solution I can envision when the tiny noises suddenly go silent. I can

almost see him rolling his chosen pearl between his fingers as if memorizing every slight flaw in its

surface. Satisfied, he’d cock his head, a dangerous grin shaping his mouth.

“Do you want to place them initially, or should I?”

“Is that a trick question?” I counter, resorting to the only weakness of his I can use to my advantage:

his blindness. “Just tell me where you want them and I’ll—”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m sure I could manage. Your hip,” he announces before the silk pad of a finger

brushes along my side, persistent even as I jump. “Your stomach. Your navel. Should I utilize this spot

in particular?”

I shiver as he flicks the dip in my belly. Rather than move on, he lingers, imparting his heat into my

skin merely to prove a point.

“Yes, here,” he declares before replacing his touch with the unmistakable round shape of a pearl.

Panic spreads down my spine like wildfire as the slight weight settles there precariously. One wrong

move and it’s gone.

“And if it falls?” I struggle to ask while keeping my stomach flat.

He laughs again, but the sound is an octave deeper. “I’ll let you imagine what the consequence may

be.”

“B-But—”

“Next one,” he declares, cutting me off. The hiss of silk and flesh teases my ears as he presumably

rummages through the contents of the tray to retrieve yet another pearl.