Page 16 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

His weight presses me into the ground, the fire flickering behind him, throwing molten shadows across his silver hair, his sharp jaw, the wicked smirk curving his lips as he kisses me deep and filthy, like he’s trying to ruin me with his mouth alone.

And fuck, it’s working.

I arch against him, my nails scraping up his back beneath his shirt, feeling the flex of hard muscle, the way he shudders when I drag them lower.

He groans into my mouth, pulling back just enough for his lips to graze mine as he exhales, breathless and wrecked. Then, slowly, his lashes lift.

And I swear to god, I forget how to breathe.

Because Elias Dain, the most unserious bastard I know, is looking at me like he wants to break me apart and lick up the pieces.

His silver eyes glow, molten and liquid, dragging over my face, my lips, my throat, where he’s already left a mark, before flicking back up, hungry.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly, like he’s already losing himself in me. Then, lips quirking, voice dark as sin, “You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that?”

I huff a breathless laugh, but it catches when I feel his hand on my waist, fingers flexing against my bare skin like he’s holding himself back.

I don’t want him to.

So I don’t give him the chance.

I sit up just enough to grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it aside.

Elias stills.

His breath stutters.

His gaze drops, raking down my bare skin, the sharp cut of his jaw tightening as he takes in the sight of me beneath him.

And then, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip, slow, as he exhales, “Holy fuck.”

Heat flares low in my stomach, sharp and dizzying.

I reach back, unhooking my bra, letting the straps slide down my arms, slow, deliberate, because I can feel the way he’s barely breathing.

The fabric falls away.

And Elias Dain fucking groans.

His hands are on my waist in a second, tight, his fingers flexing like he wants to grab, to worship, to take. He drags me closer, until our bodies are flush, his breath shuddering against my lips.

I smirk, tilting my head. “You were saying?”

His answering growl vibrates through my chest.

Then his mouth is on me.

Hot, wet, devouring, he leans down, dragging his tongue over my breast, slow and torturous, before taking my nipple between his lips and sucking.

A gasp rips from my throat, my back arching, my fingers diving into his silver hair and yanking.

I swear I see stars.

“Elias. ”

He hums against my skin, dragging his tongue across the swell of my breast, moving to the other, his lips curling in a lazy, smug grin.

“You sound so fucking pretty when you beg,” he rasps before sucking me in again, harder this time, his free hand sliding lower, lower, lower-

And fuck, I want him everywhere.

Fingers slipping past the waistband, teasing along the edge of my underwear, his lips curling against my throat when he feels how warm, how wet I already am for him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his forehead pressing against my collarbone like he’s trying to keep himself in check, his fingers flexing against my skin. But he doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t stop. He presses lower, between my thighs, where I need him most.

I inhale sharply, body arching into his touch, because the first slow slide of his fingers over my clothed heat sends a shock of pleasure so sharp it makes my toes curl.

His breath stutters. His hand tightens on my hip.

And then, he does it again.

A slow, torturous stroke, his fingers dragging over the damp fabric, barely any pressure but still too much. Still enough to make me whimper, to make my legs shift apart, inviting, needing.

Elias lifts his head, watching me, drinking me in. His silver eyes are burning, molten with something dark, desperate, starved.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows hard. Then, his voice wrecked, he mutters, "These are in my way."

I don’t hesitate. I lift my hips, giving him permission.

His fingers twitch, his jaw tightening as he hooks them under the fabric, dragging my shorts down, slow, torturous, like he wants to savor every inch of skin he reveals.

And when they’re finally gone, when I’m bare beneath him, he doesn’t move. He just stares.

His hands slide up my thighs, spreading me open, keeping me there, just for him. His gaze drags over me, his lips parting, a breath leaving him like he’s in pain from how much he wants this. Wants me.

I expect him to say something, something cocky, something teasing, but he doesn’t. He just lowers his head, exhaling hot against my skin before he licks me.

A broken sound rips from my throat, my thighs trembling, because fuck, he doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t tease.

He just devours.

His tongue drags through my slick heat, firm, deep, his lips sealing over me, sucking just right, just perfect, just filthy.

My body bows, shuddering, but he’s already holding me down, spreading me wider, pressing me deeper into his mouth like he doesn’t want to miss a single drop.

Time shifts.

The fire flickers more slowly. The world holds its breath. And my pleasure stretches.

I can feel it building, feel the tight coil in my stomach, but I can’t reach for it. He won’t let me.

Elias traps me there, in the unbearable, exquisite edge of release, suspended in heat and friction and the relentless, devastating pace of his tongue.

It’s too much. It’s perfect.

And then, just when I can’t take another second.

He lets go.

Time snaps back, and I shatter.

The orgasm hits like a violent wave, crashing over me, ripping through me, my body locking, shaking, breaking apart.

Elias groans against me, licking me through it, dragging it out, keeping me there, not stopping, not slowing, making me feel every single aftershock, every tremor, every pulse.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, uneven, his lips wet, slick with me.

And he doesn’t stop staring.

His silver eyes drag up my body, watching me wrecked and trembling beneath him, and then, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slowly, like he’s savoring every last taste of me.

He leans over me, his mouth brushing my ear.

And in a voice so wrecked, so raw, he groans, “I need to be inside you. Now.”

And then, he’s unbuckling his belt.

The buckle clinks, sharp and deliberate, the leather sliding free as he tugs it from the loops in one smooth pull. He flicks the button of his pants, lowers the zipper, and then he’s shoving them down just enough to free himself.

My breath catches.

His cock is thick, heavy, flushed deep red with need, standing rigid against his stomach, the head leaking. He looks like he’s in pain, like he’s been holding back for too long.

He fists himself at the base, exhaling hard through his nose, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he gives himself a slow, rough stroke.

Elias grips my hips and pulls me down against him, his cock already thick and hot, pressing at my entrance. The tip teases, sliding against my clit in slow, tormenting drags, spreading his pre-cum over me like he’s marking me before he’s even inside.

I arch beneath him, my thighs flexing around his waist, my breath stuttering out in uneven gasps as he rocks forward, pressing the blunt, swollen head against me, but not pushing in. Not yet.

His hands tighten where they hold me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to say, he’s barely holding himself back.

Then, voice low and strained, he rasps, “You ready for me, little Binder?”

I don’t answer. I just roll my hips, slick and open, dragging myself over him, feeling every hot, pulsing inch of his cock tease against me.

Elias shudders, curses, then slams inside me in one hard, devastating thrust. I cry out, my body stretching around him, taking him deep, drowning in the sudden, shocking fullness.

His growl tears through the night, his silver eyes squeezing shut as he bottoms out, his cock throbbing inside me, every inch of him thick and unforgiving.

“Fucking hell,” he grits out, his head dropping to my shoulder. “So tight. So perfect. You feel like you were made to take me.”

He pulls out halfway, just to slam back in, hard enough to make my breath punch from my lungs.

Then he does it again.

And again.

Each thrust is brutal, deep, possessive, his hips snapping against mine in rough, punishing strokes that leave me writhing, gasping, digging my heels into his back to pull him even deeper.

Elias groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath hot and uneven, his body rolling faster, harder, deeper.

“You like this, don’t you?” he rasps against my lips, his cock dragging against every aching nerve inside me. “You like me fucking you like this.”

I whimper, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, because he’s right. Because I need it.

Because I don’t want him to stop.

His pace turns relentless, the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds himself above me, driving into me with a hunger that borders on desperation.

The wet, obscene sounds of our bodies meeting fill the air, mixing with the low, guttural sounds rumbling from his throat as he pounds into me, harder, faster, pushing me to the edge.

Time slows again.

Elias groans, feeling it too, his silver eyes flickering with power as the fire beside us freezes mid-crackle, the embers suspended, the night holding its breath.

And inside me, so does my orgasm.

I hover there, right on the edge, my body coiled, trembling, burning up from the inside out, but I can’t come. I can’t fall.

I gasp, writhing, squeezing around him, but Elias just smirks, his pace never faltering, never giving me what I need to break.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his cock sliding so deep it makes me see stars. “Not until I say so.”

He drives into me harder, pulling almost out before thrusting back in, so deep, so perfect, his grip unrelenting, his body a force I can’t escape.

Pleasure spirals tighter, unbearable, my legs shaking around his waist.

And then, he releases it.

Time slams back into place.

And I break.