My Sinful Nights: Book One in the Sinful Men Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  He trailed his fingers along the inside of my thigh, and I trembled with desire, watching the path of his hand as he slid his finger through my folds. A current surged through me at his caress.

  “You’re so fucking turned on, I can coat myself in you,” he said, rubbing my slickness on his hard length. I burned fever hot as I watched him.

  Groaning savagely, he spread my arousal on the head, then back down all along his length. His eyes floated closed as he stroked—a long, lingering, tantalizing stroke meant to tease me to the point of no return.

  It worked. Oh hell, it worked. I was an inferno.

  I couldn’t wait. Seconds seemed too long. I had to have him inside me. “Please,” I begged, as he rubbed the head of his cock across me now, teasing me with that first touch, tempting me with so much more. I desperately longed to feel him slide into me. To have him so deep inside me that the world faded away, that day shaded into night, and night melted into day. And that this—the connection between the two of us, the intensity of our need for each other that spanned years—became all that existed.

  Because this was everything good in the world.

  “Take me,” I said. “Take me now.”

  Every atom in me buzzed. My cells were no longer made of molecules. They were comprised of desire and lust. There was no more waiting, no more time. I needed only this, only now. Mercifully, he sank into me.

  “Oh God,” I cried out, and roped my arms around his neck. His eyes blazed darkly at me, so hot, so full of the same raw and primal need. He stilled himself when he was all the way in, letting me feel him, letting me adjust to his size.

  “It feels so good,” I moaned. “I want you so much.”

  “I have never wanted anyone like this,” he said, moving in me.

  “Me neither,” I said, gasping with each thrust.

  “I have never been so in love with you.”

  I gripped his neck, digging my nails into his skin. “Never. I’ve never felt like this.” My world spun silver and gold. The intensity of him inside me drove me wild. My heart beat in a frenzy.

  “I fucking love you more than I did the first time,” he said on a powerful thrust. My head fell back on my shoulders, and I squeezed my eyes closed. I rocked my hips up into him, chasing even more pleasure.

  “The same,” I said, barely able to form words anymore. Fire roared through me. “I feel the same.”

  He grabbed my hips and yanked me up to him, deeper, harder. “You are like coming home.”

  My body jolted with each delicious thrust. My heart pumped wildly as he drove into me, burying himself. “Deeper,” I panted. “More.”

  Pressing a hand on my chest, he lowered my spine to his desk. I grinned wickedly as I hooked my legs up on his shoulders, wrapping them behind his neck. He practically climbed onto the desk, his knees on the wood, and he took me. He just fucking took me.

  My spine dug into the desk. His hands curled around my head as he drove into me. His cock hit that spot inside me that sent me galloping closer to the cliff. I felt him everywhere.

  Every thrust consumed me. He filled me completely, and he owned my body with his. The world rotated on its axis again as Brent Nichols fucked the last ten years without him right out of me.

  Time was crushed to pieces in the way he took me.

  I could barely move, and I didn’t care. Couldn’t care. All I wanted was to give myself to him.

  My back scraped the desk as the friction drove me to the edge. “Please,” I called out. Tremors of lust slammed into me, assaulting me with pleasure and sending me flying as my body detonated.

  The world slipped away into bliss, into ecstasy, into the end of missing-the-love-of-your-life.

  This was everything.

  I was back.

  We were one.

  He held me harder, gripping my head. “I love you,” he grunted as he thrust, reaching his own release. “I love you so much.”

  And I felt that love everywhere.

  42

  Brent

  The stars twinkled against the inky black night as I pulled off the highway, en route to my home in her car. Shannon had told me about the guy she saw outside her condo, and how she didn’t want to spend the night there.

  No way was I going to let her. Especially since I told her I’d seen someone suspicious there the other week. It sounded like the same guy in the same car.

  We’d stopped at her place to pick up some clothes for her.

  Now, we were nearing my home. I pulled up to the curb and turned off the car.

  “A sleepover at last,” I teased as we walked inside, and I dropped my bag from New York by the door.

  I flicked on the lights and led her straight to the bedroom.

  And we wasted no time.

  “It’s been ten years. Once is not enough,” I said.

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  In minutes we were naked, tangled up together, making love. Making promises. So many promises of love and passion and togetherness.

  She was worth flying home for.

  She was worth everything.

  In the morning, we didn’t want to get out of bed. I’d already planned on taking the day off, since I’d worked over the weekend. Shannon said she could play hooky.

  And then we did our two favorite things.

  Talking and touching.

  Touching and talking.

  This was who we were. This was who we’d be again.

  “Why don’t you move in with me?” I said.

  “You think I should?”

  “I’d feel better if you did. I don’t like the idea of someone watching your place. I have a security system, but I can also get you a security detail for when I’m not here.”

  She smiled and ran her fingers down my arm. “I do have two brothers who run a security firm.”

  “Then let’s put them to use.”

  She dropped a kiss to my nose. “Do you just want me to move in to keep me safe?”

  I tossed my head back and laughed. “Woman, I want you to move in with me because I want to be with you all the time. Get that straight.”

  She tackle-hugged me. “Fine, fine. Twist my arm.” She held out her arm, but instead of twisting, I kissed it, and as my lips trailed along her skin, she tossed out a question. “What’s going to happen in New York, Brent? You’ve been so eager to expand there. I hate that you might lose this chance.”

  “Don’t know anymore.”

  “Do you think the deal can still happen?”

  “Maybe. I’m honestly not sure,” I said, and the funny thing was, I didn’t care as much as I’d thought I would. I’d been so damn keen on that club and that location until yesterday. The two men I had to deal with didn’t seem to want to deal with me. That was a bit of a turnoff. “They aren’t at the top of my list of people I want to do business with,” I said, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

  Gently, she tugged her wrist away, then propped her head in her hand. “I don’t want you to lose business because of me.”

  I scoffed. “The meeting was over. Lunch was done.”

  “But you were supposed to meet that guy’s wife and daughter last night and you got on a plane,” she added. “And my past, it’s like it’s haunting you too.”

  “If I lose the deal, it’s not because of you, Shan.”

  “Isn’t it though?”

  I shook my head, owning this. “It’s because of me. I made a choice. I had someplace else to be. And they don’t really like my past either, but I am who I am. I have no regrets about that.”

  She frowned. “I want to help you.”

  I stroked her cheek. “You are helping me.”

  “How?”

  “By listening. By caring. By being here. That’s all I want.”

  “You’re all I want.” She kissed me, and my mind turned hazy, and my body responded instantly. With her lips on mine, pleasure ricocheted through me.

  I laced my hands through her hair, curling my fingers around her he
ad as we kissed harder.

  Then she broke the kiss, slid down my body, and took me in her mouth. I groaned appreciatively at the sight. Shannon, between my legs, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue a wicked instrument of carnal pleasure. She was a vision, with her hair spread across my thighs and her lips full and ripe.

  “Take me in deep,” I rasped as I traced my fingertip over her top lip. “I need to own that pretty little mouth of yours right now.”

  She looked up at me as she wrapped her hand around my shaft, her other hand playing with my balls. “Own me, Brent. You already do.”

  She drew me in. The head of my dick hit the back of her throat. I gripped her hair, drawing her closer so she had to take me all the way.

  “I can’t hold back anymore,” I groaned as I pushed her hair away from her face, giving me a perfect view of her lips, filled with my cock. “I’m going to fuck your mouth hard now. Can you handle it, babe?” I asked as I thrust. She nodded, and that was all I needed. Permission to take over her mouth completely.

  To occupy every inch of her.

  This wouldn’t last long. Thirty seconds, a minute tops. I was damn near there already.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect . . .” I said, the words trailing off as my spine ignited, pleasure crackling through my bones.

  Another deep thrust, and I was there. “Coming. Coming so fucking hard,” I gasped, my fingers curling around her skull. Lust slammed into me, tearing through every cell in my body. I closed my eyes, and the world turned black and brilliant.

  And when I opened my eyes, there she was, looking as satisfied as I was.

  She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “I’ve got an endless store of those for you, handsome. Because you know what?” She tap-danced her fingers up my abs.

  “Tell me.”

  “You deserve all the blow jobs in the world.”

  I parked my hands behind my head. “I like the sound of that. Tell me why I’m so damn deserving.”

  She moved up the bed, dropped a kiss to my lips, then said, “Because you’re you.”

  * * *

  That afternoon, we finally made it out of bed, and I gave her a proper tour of my home. I watched as she drank it in, walking around my place in the light of day, checking out the couch, trailing her fingertips over it, surveying the coffee table, looking at my books.

  Her eyes landed on a vase on the table, and she tilted her head. “You have sunflowers.” She pointed to the bouquet of yellow flowers.

  I banded my arm around her waist. “What can I say? I was hopeful you’d come over soon.”

  Her smile was reward enough. “So you got them for me?”

  “You seem to have a thing for sunflowers,” I said. There was a time when I was reluctant to ask her, when I didn’t want to press. But we were all in, and I wanted to know everything. “Want to tell me why?”

  “How about I show you?”

  * * *

  The grass was spongy under my feet, and the late-afternoon sun cast golden shadows across the headstones.

  The oaks and elms rose stately and green, their lush leaves forming canopies. Flowers burst to life everywhere, some wild, many in bouquets laid on the ground. It was an odd juxtaposition—all that verdant life in the midst of those markers of death. But that was what cemeteries were for—for the living to remember the dead.

  With her hand in mine, we neared her father’s grave.

  As the simple stone came into view, I saw yellow. So much yellow.

  “My grandma was here this week. She brought those,” Shannon said, gesturing to the sunflowers along the headstone.

  I read the etching. Thomas Darren Paige. Loving father. My throat hitched, and I swallowed it away as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “I bring them here too,” she continued.

  “They’re beautiful,” I said softly as we stood a few feet from the grave. “It’s a beautiful way to remember him.”

  “They’re not only for him,” Shannon said, looking up, meeting my eyes.

  “Who are they for?” I asked, but then I knew the answer. In a flash, everything made sense—the photos in her home. The ultrasound picture behind them.

  I inhaled sharply, walloped once again by something unexpected. “For the baby we lost?” I asked, setting a gentle hand on her belly.

  “Yes, our baby. I don’t know if we would’ve had a girl or a boy,” she said, and the fact that she was saying we tugged at all my heartstrings. I wanted that with her—a family. I wanted everything. “But I like to think his or her soul is with my dad. That they keep each other company in the great beyond.”

  I swallowed roughly and spoke softly. “I believe that too.”

  “I started to bring the flowers when I moved back from London. I was struggling and I needed to find a way through all that sadness. There was this hole inside me,” she said, her voice soft but steady. I could hear her strength in it. I could hear all her resilience, all her survival. “And soon, the pain lessened. Time did what time is supposed to do. But I’d still come here when I was in town, and I’d leave more sunflowers, and soon I realized I wasn’t leaving them for the baby anymore.”

  “You weren’t?”

  She shook her head, then met my eyes. “They were for you.”

  “After what you thought? How we split?” I asked carefully.

  “Yes. For what you’d meant to me. Sunflowers always reminded me of you.”

  “Why?” I asked, my throat dry as the desert, choked with emotion.

  She didn’t answer with words at first. She answered through touch. She pushed up the sleeve on my right arm, revealing my ink—the black sunburst I’d gotten with her in Boston, when she’d told me it fit my sunny disposition. “Because you were like the sun to me. You made my days better. You were my warmth and my happiness. And I wanted to remember all the good times we’d had. I wanted to have hope again.”

  My heart stopped. My breath fled my chest. My life narrowed to a before and an after.

  To this moment in time. It marked the man I was, and the man I was becoming. The man I could be for her. In that second, those words became the epicenter of my life. “I never knew how far and deep it went when you said I was like the sun to you.”

  She ran her fingertip over my sunburst. “You were all my sunny days, Brent. You were always so happy and so upbeat, and you never let anything get you down. And you gave all that to me. You turned my days around when I met you.”

  I closed my eyes and swayed closer to her, trying to take all this in, to digest the enormity of what she was saying. Then it hit me, with the clarity of a thousand suns. There was life and death, and the thinnest thread separated the two, like the edge of a razor. Life was for the living, and for the loving.

  I dropped down to one knee for the second time. I had no ring. No plan. No speech. I grasped her hand in mine. “Marry me.”

  She blinked, a look of utter disbelief on her face. “Are you proposing to me in a cemetery?”

  “I am,” I said. Hoping. Praying. Wanting that yes. “Life is precious, Shan. Life is for this. For us. For living again, for loving again. Marry me now. Because I make you laugh, and I always will. Because I make you happy, and I promise to make that my greatest mission for the rest of my life. Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done. I love everything about you—your body, your heart, and your mind. I have been in love with you for more than a decade, and I’ve spent most of that time without you. Let’s pick up where we left off and spend the rest of our lives together. Let’s do what we were supposed to do ten years ago. Let’s do it now.”

  Her eyes lit up with mischief. “Yes. Vegas, baby.”

  She held out her hand and tugged me up.

  “Vegas, baby,” I replied.

  That was our new vow.

  43

  Brent

  There were no flowers. There were no rings. But the bride did wear white.

  She stopped at a store she liked and
grabbed a new white sundress, while I snagged a white shirt and jeans from my house. We raced over to the marriage license bureau and signed the paperwork. Plunking down our IDs was nothing short of thrilling.

  I pulled up in her car to a drive-through chapel, its orange neon sign lit up and flashing. The officiant came to the window. I had called earlier to book a quickie ceremony, and that was exactly what we got. No Elvis impersonator, no Johnny Cash stand-in, no Vegas theme package of mobsters or starlets or showgirls. At the end of the two-minute ceremony, the officiant said the words I had longed to hear years ago. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  No one needed to tell me that twice. I laced my fingers through Shannon’s hair and dropped my mouth to hers, kissing her softly at first, savoring the sweet taste of her lips, memorizing every second of the first kiss with my wife.

  Mrs. Shannon Nichols.

  The name played in my head, and it was so perfect, so damn sexy, and everything I’d ever wanted in my life. In mere moments, the kiss climbed the heat scale as I kissed her furiously, and she tangled a hand in my hair, consuming my lips with her fire too.

  I kissed her harder, even as the officiant clapped and cheered and wedding music played from the chapel.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  I opened my eyes to see her cell phone held in one outstretched hand. I broke the kiss.

  “I know you love selfies of us, so this is your first wedding present from your bride. Our first picture as husband and wife.”

  “I love it, Mrs. Nichols,” I said in a low, dirty growl in her ear. “Now, I need to fuck my wife for the first time.”

  “Then put on your seat belt, handsome. I see a parking spot over there that’s got our name written all over it.”