The Angel (The Original Sinners) by Tiffany Reisz Read Free Book Online Page B

the
heirloom chest under the window seemed unnecessarily heavy for simply guarding
linens. And the rosewood box on the bedside table didn’t just hold his white
collar—it held hers.
    Nora’s eyes scanned the candlelit room trying to locate Søren.
She didn’t see him. Instead she saw the bed… He’d changed the sheets. The white
sheets were gone and in their place rich black sheets graced the bed. Black
sheets meant only one thing. Nora inhaled sharply and forgot to exhale
again.
    “Breathe, little one,” Søren instructed as he came up behind
her and wrapped his arms around her.
    “Yes, sir.” In and out she breathed, dragging air into her
stomach and pushing it out through her nose. Nora closed her eyes as he brought
her collar around her neck; she shivered as he raised her hair to buckle and
lock it closed.
    “Down,” he ordered.
    Nora stepped away from him; her feet trembled beneath her. As
she walked to the bed, Søren took the towel from her. Naked, she lay across the
sheets, the black sheets, and forced herself to keep breathing.
    Søren stood next to the bed looking down at her. He reached up
to his neck and removed his own white collar. He unbuttoned his shirt and slowly
pulled it off. Nora had never seen a man with a more beautiful body than
Søren’s. His morning runs and the five hundred push-ups and sit-ups he did every
day kept him in immaculate shape. Lean, taut muscle wrapped every inch of his
tall frame. Sometimes she could simply not keep her hands off him. But tonight
she feared his touch as much as she craved it.
    Søren let his shirt fall to the floor. Barefoot and wearing
only his black pants, he crawled onto the bed, crawled over her.
    He bent his head and kissed her. She loved how he kissed her,
like he owned, as he owned her. Sometimes Nora marveled at the thought that
while she’d had more lovers than she could count, Søren had shared his body with
only three people in his entire life. His devotion to her humbled her, and Nora
wrapped her arms around him to pull him even closer. Rarely, if ever, could she
touch him when they made love. Søren was a sadist and a dominant. When he took
her she was almost always tied down, bound to the bed, the floor or the St.
Andrew’s Cross. Only on nights like this did he leave her arms and legs free.
The act he was about to perform was sadistic enough no bondage was necessary to
satisfy him.
    Søren pulled up from her and reached to the bedside table.
Nora’s hands dug into the sheets, the black sheets.
    Nora looked up and into his eyes—gray eyes the color of a
rising storm.
    When he brought his hand back she saw the small curved blade
shining in his hand.
    * * *
    Michael paced his room while trying to decide exactly
how to tell his mom he planned to leave town for the summer. He hated to lie to
her. But he couldn’t just come out and tell her that he was running off with
Nora Sutherlin. He knew his mom knew what he was. Or at least she knew that he
wasn’t like other kids. The boys at his school got in trouble for Playboy magazines stashed under their mattresses or
for knocking up the cheerleaders. But when Michael got in trouble it was for
burning and cutting himself, for downloading pictures of men being tied up and
beaten by women and even other men. And when in trouble, he didn’t get grounded.
He got slapped and thrown against the wall by his dad with enough force to leave
bruises—the bad kind—all over him.
    Sicko…pervert…freak… His father had said them all. When his
mother tried to defend him against his father, saying Michael was just young and
confused, his father had hit her too. The fighting had become an everyday thing,
until his dad finally just up and moved out. Michael’s mom had gone into shell
shock and still hadn’t completely recovered from it. The night Michael slashed
his wrists it was with one thought in mind: maybe if he died his parents
wouldn’t have anything to fight about anymore.
    Michael took a deep