Sins of Seven Series 1-3: Boxed Set

by Dani René

  A dressing table sits near the window and opposite to that a closet is built into the wall with mirrored doors. How I’d love to fuck her while watching her face in those. A sight to behold. She strolls over to a hanger, which is perched on the hook beside the dressing table, approaching a long silver elegant dress. I can’t wait to see her in it.

  “I’ve set a chair out for you. I’m going to get dressed now and you mentioned you wanted to watch?” she says, not looking at me, but her confidence shines through. It’s sexy, drawing me into her orbit like a moth to a flame. My gaze is glued to her hips as she sways them when she walks.

  “Thank you, Sweet Slut. You are perfection in a tight little body,” I remark, sitting back in the faux leather armchair which is situated beside the door. When she turns to face me, my chest tightens. I shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t part of the agreement and as much I’m breaking the rules, I can’t stop myself. She slowly slips off the dressing gown, and when it pools to the floor, every sense of right and wrong leaves my mind. Her lingerie—a black corset, with a gold bow between her ample cleavage and a thong which matches with a bow on either hip—leave my mouth dry. Yellow, gold, the color of greed. One of the seven deadly sins. Perhaps this siren was made for me after all.

  She plucks the silver silk dress off the hanger and allows it to fall over her body. The material hugs every one of her perfect curves. It drapes over her like it was painted on. She’s covered in the floor-length silver dress. I’m speechless.

  “How do I look, Sir?” Her words are sultry, meant to seduce, and they do.

  Never have I seen a more exquisite woman, and I tell her so. “Exquisite.”

  She strolls to me after she slips on the pair of sparkly sandals. She’d be almost at my height in those heels, but she’ll still have to glance up at me with those blue eyes. When I rise to take her in, my hands find purchase on her hips.

  Meeting her gaze, I’m dragged into the arctic blue that greets me with shimmering desire, excitement, and happiness. My lips tingle with readiness to devour her. For a moment, I wonder if I should tell her how we met, or rather why we met. But today is the first and only time I’ll have her again, so I decide not to. I make the choice to lie, just for a few hours more. What will it hurt? Even though I’ve learned first-hand that secrets are evil, they break down lives and relationships, but when I look at her now, I realize I can’t say a word because to see her hurt would gut me. That thought scares the shit out of me.

  “I’m nervous for tonight,” she confesses shyly. In all her confidence, there’s still a little girl hiding in there. A woman needing a Dominant to care for her. To take her places she’s never even dreamt of. And in that moment, I don’t see the mask she puts on for everyone else, I see her. The soul that’s shattered, broken, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I realize I want to be that for her. The man that will show her who she really is. Give her everything she needs and yearns for. Can I do this? The last time I took a chance with someone it ended badly. Worse than I ever imagined. But something tells me Eva is different.

  A fleeting moment passes between us. My mind clicks into place when her lips purse, then turn into a small shy smile. My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her body, causing a soft moan to fall from her sweet lips. Yes. I can do this. God help me, I need to do this.

  As long as she never finds out what I did, we can try. It’s been a long while since I owned a slave. My own past is scattered with skeletons, but I offer her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right beside you. You’ll love my dungeon.” I wink, offering her my arm.

  4

  Eva

  His confidence oozes from him, along with the spicy scent of his cologne, which lingers once he leaves the room. It’s like a warm cloud of safety when I inhale deeply; I revel in it. I’ve only ever felt like this with Carrick. As much as I’d like to one day be owned, I’ve been rather shy to be with men. Something about this man who I still don’t know, makes me feel like I can safely walk on the edge, and he’ll catch me if I fall.

  “What’s your name, Sir?” I ask, a smile lifting my lips when his eyes twinkle with mischief.

  “Nathan, and as much as I love it when you call me Sir, tonight you’re welcome to call me Nate,” he informs me. His voice is raspy, thick and decadent, and I recall last night, my thoughts drifting to the finest brandy.

  And almost as if he knows that I can’t resist his magnetic pull, he offers me a smirk that has my panties disintegrating the moment he gifts it to me, like a present at Christmas, but this is more priceless than a wrapped box with a red bow.

  We make our way into the living room and I grab the purse which has my phone and keys. We move silently through the apartment, comfortable in each other’s company, even though we know nothing about the other’s personal life. Once I’ve locked the door, we take the elevator down to the parking garage.

  I spy a beautiful Aston Martin sitting in a space, the lights blinking as we near it, and I notice the key fob in his hand. He opens the door, slipping his hand in mine, helping me into the cream-colored leather passenger seat of his car.

  I admire his taste in cars while he rounds the front. I may not know too much about cars, but I recall my father telling me that once he made it big, he was getting himself an Aston. Daddy worked as a banker, he earned a good salary and we never wanted for anything, but before his death, he told me he’d put money away for me. He wanted me to one day be able to study, to have a life where I wanted for nothing. Sadness seeps into my mind then, the darkness of my past follows me. Even though it’s been seven years since I lost him, that pain doesn’t go away.

  That’s the problem with love. With caring about people. One day, they all leave. When Nathan slips into his driver’s seat, he turns to me for a moment, placing his hand on my thigh. The connection sizzles between us, causing my sadness to dissipate for the moment, and has goose bumps erupting on every inch of my skin.

  “If at any point you want to stop tonight, or want to come home, use your safe word, okay? I’ll push you, but I’ll never force you.”

  His words ease the tension and I nod. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not because he’s a friend of Carrick, but because there’s a kindness in his darkness. There’s a flicker of humanity in his eyes, even though I see a rabid beast just below the surface.

  “I know, Nate. Red if I’m at my limit and yellow if I’m nearing it, I’ve done this before,” I tell him, nodding as he smiles, but a dark flicker of displeasure dances in his eyes. It makes me wonder if he’s jealous. But as quickly as it appears it disappears, and I’m met with a warm, affectionate grin. Different to his sinful smirks and dirty stares. There are so many layers to Nathan that I find myself wanting to be the one to uncover them.

  “I can promise you something right now, Eva,” he caresses my name, as if it’s the sweetest taste on his tongue. “You’ll never need to use your safe word with me.”

  With that, he starts the engine, turns on the radio, and pulls out onto the road. Even though it’s not late, it is quiet on the street. We easily weave through the minimal traffic, while I listen to the lyrics of the song currently playing. Whisper by Chase Rice taunts us through the speakers; his deep gravelly lilt sings sensually, heating my skin and sending a tingle down my spine.

  Casting my gaze to Nate, I watch his jaw work as he concentrates on the road. The dusting of his stubble causes me to squeeze my thighs together thinking about his face buried there, in that spot that’s now aching for him. Sir Nate. I like the sound of that.

  Smiling to myself, I turn to face the road again, the lights like beacons in the dark, telling me this is right. It’s where I should be.

  “You okay over there, sweetheart?” he asks when the song comes to an end. Dark eyes flit over to me in question, and I nod.

  “I’m just perfect, thank you, Sir Nate,” I tease, testing the name on my tongue. Yes, I definitely like this.

  “That you are, sweetheart,” he replies, chuckling
low in his chest, which makes me smile. The sound of his laugh is so different than any other man’s.

  So unique.

  So Nate.

  So mine.

  The thought stills me momentarily, and I realize I want this. I want him.

  Moments later, he pulls up to a valet for one of the most exquisite restaurants in the city, Everest. Situated on the fortieth floor, I’ve heard rave reviews about the food, the view, and the place itself. I watch Nate round the car, to find me waiting on the other side. His fingers protectively find the base of my spine, which causes a jolt of desire to sizzle through me the same way it does every time he touches me.

  All my life, I’ve heard of those butterflies that girls explain they feel when their crush is near, but I’ve never felt butterflies. Yes, Carrick and I had tension, sexual tension that skyrocketed when we were together, but this is different.

  “Here we go,” he says close to my ear as we step into the elevator along with a few other couples. The ride up to the restaurant itself is silent but the heat that’s emanating from him is palpable. Once we reach our destination and the metal car spits us out into the foyer with the other people, I can’t help my heart skipping. Dates in five star restaurants aren’t for girls like me.

  When we reach the blonde hostess, she glances up from her list and meets Nate’s gaze. “Mr. Ashcroft, so lovely to see you again,” she greets. The smile she gifts him is friendly, but her green eyes seem to hold his for a moment too long, glistening with something more. It makes me wonder if she knows him intimately, the same way I do.

  “I booked my usual table,” he informs her, ignoring her blush. She leads us through the rather large, but intimate restaurant, the soft lighting giving it an almost ethereal glow. People, mostly couples dressed in their expensive clothes—boutique dresses and designer suits—sit quietly at their tables, murmuring over candlelight.

  When we reach the table, which sits neatly in the back corner, tucked away from everyone else, Nate pulls the chair out for me. I set my purse on the table and settle myself in the plush velvet seat.

  He leans in, allowing his lips to whisper along my ear, causing me to shudder. “You’re mine tonight.” Those three words muttered under his breath make my anxiety dissipate. It dies just like a moth being sizzled by the flame.

  I allow my glance to flit across the room as Nate rounds the table, seating himself opposite me. I can’t help roving my eyes over him, taking in every inch of him that I can see. The man is beautiful. When we played out the scene, I thought he was handsome, sexy. But sitting here in a normal setting, he is utterly breathtaking.

  The messy dark curls on his head look perfect for running my fingers through. The stubble that dusts his chiseled jaw looks as if it’s only a day old, his skin tanned to a bronze, making him look like he’d been on vacation on a tropical beach. Shadows from the flame of the candle in the middle of our table dance across his face as he runs his coffee-colored eyes over the menu. My gaze drops to his hands, strong, with thick veins that rise from the golden skin. His long fingers, those same digits that I drenched in my arousal, hold the menu firmly, yet delicately. Everything about him is a contradiction, and I find myself even more enamored the more time we spend together.

  “Are you going to sit there all night looking at me, Eva? Or would you like to decide on your meal?” he questions without looking at me, but there’s a small grin on his lips that causes me to smile.

  “I’m not sure what I’d like more, you or what’s on the menu,” I quip playfully, lifting the menu to roam my gaze over the list of items. He growls under his breath in response to my words, but that’s all I’m afforded.

  When the waitress appears, Nate offers a friendly greeting, asking her for a bottle of the 2009 Merlot, and two salads to start. As soon as we’re alone again, he drops his darkened gaze on mine.

  “Tonight, sweet Eva, I plan on feeding you both, a lovely dinner and my thick cock,” he vows in his low gravelly tone. His words have me shifting in my seat. “And while you’re over there trying to ease the ache between your legs,” he smirks knowingly and his deep brown pools drop to my chest then dart to my face, “I hope you’re ready for dinner because I’m not like any other date that you’ve been with. Tonight, you’ll have challenges. And for each one you complete, you’ll get an orgasm.” His words lower on the last two words, murmured with pure feral lust.

  Straightening my spine, I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. “I can assure you, Sir,” I breathe, watching as his eyes glow with desire. “I can meet any challenge you offer.”

  Before we can continue our torturous flirting, the waitress arrives with our wine and salads. Nate orders the sirloin steak, medium rare, with baked potato and stir-fried vegetables.

  When the waitress glances at me, I ask for the same. She nods, jotting it down on her notepad, and then turns to leave.

  As soon as we’re alone, Nate fills our glasses with the deep crimson liquid. I meet his dark eyes and they seem to swirl with hunger, dragging me into their depths. I know that I’m about to lose myself in the abyss that is Sir Nate… I realize then that he hasn’t told me why he chose me last night, or even why we’re here having dinner. “Why me, Nate?” I ask, innocently sipping the wine he’d poured.

  “Why not you?” he responds with a question, lifting the glass to his mouth with a smile. I watch in tortured lust at the liquid that’s left over on his full lips. He doesn’t say anything until he’s set the glass down. “Before we get down to learning about each other, I’d like you to do something for me. First challenge. Take my phone, go to the rest room, lock yourself in a cubicle. Sit on the toilet, lift your dress and spread your legs. Once you’re settled, take a photo with my phone, I want one picture with your panties in place. Then I want a second image of you with your one hand on the sweet lips of your cunt. Be creative.” He sets his iPhone on the table and sits back. I watch him lift his glass again, sipping the red wine as if he hadn’t just asked me to take selfies of my panties on his phone.

  “Yes, Sir.” I smile, rising on my heels and heading to the ladies’ restroom. To say I’m nervous would be an understatement, but I want to please him. I also want to show him I don’t scare easily.

  Once in the cubicle, I do as he said, step by step. My hand is shaking so much, I have to take the photo a few times before I’m happy with it. Deleting the extra’s, I lock the screen. Once I’ve straightened my panties and dress, I head back to the table. Slipping into my chair, I find he’s moved seats. He’s now right beside my chair.

  “All done, Sir,” I inform him with a satisfied smile.

  “Give me your hand,” he grunts. I offer him the hand I know he wants. The one I used to shift my underwear to the side to get the shot he wanted. He grips my wrist, pulling my fingers to his nose. Taking a long deep inhale, he growls when my scent invades his nostrils. “Fucking incredible.” He holds out his other hand and I place the phone on his palm.

  He doesn’t look at the photos. Not even acknowledging what I just did. We continue our dinner in silence, every now and then he asks me questions about my life, and I only offer what I can in response. My past hasn’t been the easiest and I don’t feel like bringing our lovely dinner down with the depressing tale of my early life.

  “Eva, I don’t normally do this,” he tells me suddenly. We’ve just finished eating, and we’re on the dregs of our bottle of wine. Even though he only had one glass, he’s made sure mine has been topped up all evening.

  “What? Date the girls you fucked?” I ask him straightforwardly while holding his intense stare.

  He’s silent for a moment before nodding in response. “Yes, I suppose you can say that. I mean, I’m not really a man that can offer you forever. I asked Carrick for your number for one more night with you. And I promised him that it’s only one night,” he tells me wryly, and I hear the regret in his tone.

  Furrowing my brows, I wonder why he’s so adamant this can’t work. Perhaps he’s married.
My gut clenches painfully at the thought that I’ve been with a married man.

  “Carrick isn’t my father. He doesn’t own me. Tell me something honestly. Are you married?” I retort hotly.

  He snaps his gaze to mine. “No, I’m not that kind of monster. I don’t cheat. If and when I take a slave, it will be her only. At the moment, my tastes differ to what you’re perhaps used to.”

  “And what do you think I’m used to?”

  “Eva,” he says in warning. “I like things… I prefer things casual. Would you be averse to me fucking another woman?” His question hangs in the air heavily, a lead weight on our rather lovely evening.

  “Why?” I ask. Shaking his head, he doesn’t answer me which only serves to infuriate me more. “I’m not a child, Nathan. Tell me. What is it that you like that’s so wrong?”

  His hand grips my thigh as his fingers painfully dig into the flesh. “Would you consider being with a man who loves to throat fuck other women to humiliate you?”

  A gasp falls from my mouth in shock at his filthy words. I’ve always wanted to be the only woman for my Dominant. I don’t like sharing, but as I stare him down, meeting dark eyes that are filled with… something. I can’t make out what’s in those eyes because they’re a mixture of emotion that leaves me aching to say yes to him. Even though it goes against every bone in my body.

  Turning my gaze away, I gulp the last of my wine, then look at him. “Perhaps not, I’d want to be your only toy, should you take me on,” I confirm with surety seeing his brows lift in surprise. “Take me to your dungeon. If after tonight you feel we should not see each other again, I will accept that. And don’t let Rick be the one to tell you what I want.”

  He smirks then, his hand beneath the table still on my thigh. Inching it up, he slides my dress up slowly, teasingly. Even though the material is floor-length, in no time, he’s bunched it up to gain access to his prize.