Page 33 of Vows in Sin
R eign
Our little flower girl is sprinkling her leftover petals all over the dance floor. Tina Charles comes over the loudspeakers, belting out that she ‘loves to love.’ The fortieth person tonight compliments my tie as I walk by them.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m searching for my bride. Have you seen her?”
They nod over my shoulder. “Right behind you.”
I turn and there she is. A vision of beauty and love. Flowers and pearls in her hair, the white lace of her long dress trailing behind her. Grabbing my hand, my bride drags me right to the center of the floor, forcing me to participate.
“Come on! It’s time.”
“Are you sure about this?” I ask.
“We practiced for this.” She smiles. “We can’t let the team down.”
“Team?” I glance around. We’re an island being observed by a sea of people. “What are you on about?”
“You’ll see.” She takes my hand. The two of us. Alone. Center stage. The lights focus on our faces. I cringe. The music starts. The familiar beat. I’ve heard this song a thousand times.
Desperate to please her, I have practiced these steps so often that I dream about them.
“You’ve got this.” She smiles up at me, and I try. Left. Right. Left. Right. Kick. Damn, that was the wrong foot. I don’t give up, going straight into the part where I hold her hand high and she twirls.
Nailed it!
Fuck yeah.
To my right, Tabby, Cleo, and Eloise appear, doing their synchronized steps.
To her right, there are Dame, Blaze, and Hunter joining us and reflecting the girls’ movements.
I try to keep the pace. Is that Miss Fifi in the crowd? Smiling and gesturing to the others, clapping the beat.
“You’ve got yourself a choreographer for this?” I get off tempo, missing a step.
Seraphina calls my attention. “Look at me, baby. Look at me and have fun.”
“Fun? Dancing? In front of everyone?” This is my idea of hell. I hold her against me and dip her low. I stare down at her upside-down face. “You have a twisted sense of entertainment.”
She flashes me a wicked grin. “Says you? Have you forgotten what you get up to in that shed of ours?”
I’m two left feet surrounded by a flash mob, and all I want is her in my arms.
She’s standing there, laughing as I stop to catch my breath. Beauty and light and everything I needed but never thought I’d have.
Fuck this. I want to hold my wife.
“Come here.” I pull her close. I hold her against me. Heartbeat to heartbeat. I kiss her cheek. “Dance with me, my love.”
Laughing, she wraps those arms around me. “You did great.”
“I looked like Frankenstein doing the Monster Mash.”
“Did not!” She stares up at me with that look of admiration I’m still getting accustomed to. “You tried something new. And you looked sexy while you did it.” She reaches up, tugging the end of my tie. “Especially wearing this tie.”
“I’m sorry you married such a bad dancer,” I murmur, staring down at her. We’re nestled in a cocoon in the middle of the floor. We sway together, her in my arms, the choreography swirling around us.
“But you’re the best kisser,” she grins. “And I like kissing way more than dancing. Kiss me.”
“Yes, wife.” I obey her with the world melting away.
All that’s left is me and her.
The girl who put hope back in my heart.
THE END
BOUND by SIN. SEALED with VOWS.
In a world where sin is currency and love is a deadly vow, these men don’t ask—they take.
Come hungry. Leave complete. One vow at a time. Click Here for FORBIDDEN VOWS
Cleopatra
"No, Blaze," I gasp, making one last attempt at reason, but his name on my lips sounds more like a plea than a protest. His hands grip my waist, lifting me onto the polished wooden table behind us; the cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat of his body.
"I've wanted you for so long. That time living with you as your brother was torture.”
“Step. Brother,” I correct, gasping as he kisses my neck.
“Pure torture. I wanted you every moment of every day," he murmurs, his lips trailing kisses down my neck, his hands exploring every curve of my body. "And now, here you are. Hiding in the back of a church. And all mine."
Not fair. His words fill a void inside me. It feels so good to be wanted.
I'm shocked by how hard my heart thumps in my chest and by the excitement I feel at the thought of being desired by a man who is not only off-limits but can have any woman he wants.
And he wants me.
I’m currently single, and the man who made me that way didn’t make me feel this desired at the best of times. Still. I should push him away and run from this twisted seduction, but my body is paralyzed, trapped between his touch and the cold table beneath me.
His hands glide up my thighs, pushing the skirt of my dress higher and exposing more of my bare skin to the cool air of the church. I shiver, but it's not from the cold; it's from the way his touch brings me to life. Every nerve ending is wide awake.
The guilt cuts in deep and hot with shame. "Blaze, please," I beg, but even I don't know what I'm asking for. For him to stop? Or for him to continue? My mind is a whirlwind of confusion, torn between the morality hammered into me since childhood and my need for him. And the wanting cuts deeper.
His lips find mine again, swallowing my pleas as he presses against me, his body hard and insistent. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, echoing my own racing pulse.
He finds his way to the very core of me, and I gasp as he gently strokes the most sensitive part. My hips ease into his touch, betraying my inner turmoil. He stops kissing to watch my face, his breath hot on my cheek as he whispers, "Tell me you don't want this, Cleo. Tell me to stop, and I will."
But the words won't come. Instead, a soft moan escapes my lips; the sound is like a white flag, a surrender to the forbidden desire that is him. His eyes, intense, search mine for a moment before leaning in to kiss me again, his expert fingers never stopping their torturous dance.
My body jolts at the contact, a wave of pleasure crashing over me. He swallows my gasps, deepening his kiss as he strokes and circles, driving me to the brink of madness.
Will I be able to resist him?
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