Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4)

by Elena M. Reyes

  Bend me over and call me your little doll.

  And had someone else spoken to me the way he does, I’d have knocked out a tooth or ten by now, but with him, it’s not demeaning. It feels warm. Full of this sweetness that makes my core clench whenever he calls me his Muñeca.

  “Are you paying attention, Muñeca?”

  The always-present tingles spread, and I fight the need to whimper. I’m still sensitive. Feel the slight burn from his five o’clock shadow on my inner thighs.

  Dear God, please help me get it together. This isn’t the time to give in to temptation. Amen.

  “What was the question?”

  He tsks, but there’s no real annoyance in his features. Instead, there’s a hint of a smirk. As if he knows where my mind has been. “When did the flowers appear, Mariah?”

  With a sheepish grin, I shrug. No denying it. “A little before I pulled my dinner from the oven. I was sitting right where you are now, looking at the early evening sky when a knock came. They didn’t ring the doorbell but knocked hard instead.”

  “So it should be on the doorbell recorder?”

  “It should.” Why didn’t I think of that? Hard to think with his mouth between your thighs. “Let me grab my phone. Be right back.” I’m rushing to the kitchen before the words finish leaving my lips. I need a moment to collect myself. To gain a bit of decorum.

  This isn’t the time to be anything but what I am: an Asher.

  Opening the faucet, I grab a paper towel and dip it under the water before squeezing off the excess and running the dampness over my heated neck, my cheeks, and lower across the top of my breasts. The coolness feels good, but his shirt on me smells of him and it isn’t helping me control my libido.

  He’s woodsy scents mixed with a hint of cigar and heavy liquor. He’s sex and danger, and I’m sniffing the collar and abandoning the paper towel, closing my eyes to enjoy the moment. The thoughts and images running through my mind are of him on his knees—worshipping me—but the reel quickly morphs to another fantasy.

  I’m praying at his temple. Tasting what is mine.

  “I need to change.”

  “You okay in there?” Javi calls out from the other room and I squeak, the embarrassing sound bringing me back to the situation at hand. Wearing this shirt isn’t a smart choice. It’s disastrous for my common sense, and I walk out sans phone.

  “Be right back.” My answer comes out high-pitched while walking toward my room. The plan is to lose the shirt and get myself together before further embarrassing myself.

  And I make it inside without issue. I begin undoing the buttons and notice his lack of response, but it’s as I get to the last button that two hands come up from behind and stop me, a deep rumble leaving his chest in displeasure.

  “No.” His face appears next to mine a second later, his cheek rubbing against mine. “Don’t take it off.”

  “But I can’t think straight.” It leaves me before I can stop it, and I’m embarrassed. This isn’t who I am, but with him, my defenses are nonexistent—an afterthought.

  “I don’t want you to think straight.” Javi’s hands leave mine and he begins to put each button back through a hole, lingering a little longer when he reaches the one between my exposed breasts. “Lord knows I’m unstable in your presence. Completely fucked by a slip of a girl that threatens daily to shoot me while the mere image makes me hard as fuck.”

  A harsh shiver rocks me, his nose skimming the length of my neck, causing goose bumps to rise across my flesh. I know I’m supposed to be looking at the video, talking about the discrepancies found in the twins’ file and the possibility of who their donor could be, but when his lips follow the path back up to my jaw and he nips the skin, I lose composure.

  That tiny spark of pleasurable pain makes me the aggressor. I’m the one who’s salivating for a taste.

  With his shirt on and a bold little grin, I turn around and drop to my knees. His eyes turn nearly black—dilated and hungry—as he watches me undo two of the buttons he closed.

  My mouth waters as the bulge in his pants expands, twitches beneath my gaze. That’s the only part of him that moves; he’s stone still as I open his pants and lower the zipper, the angry, purple head greeting me while a drop of pre-come slips down the thick shaft.

  “Hands behind your back and don’t move,” I breathe out, voice just above a whisper as I sweep a finger across the deep V, following the sharp indent from right to left and then back again.

  “Muñeca,” he groans, the pain in his voice causing my eyes to snap up to his. Christ, he’s beautiful and masculine and complying with my wishes without a single complaint. Instead, his eyes are reverent. Hold so much affection. “Baby, I can’t promise to give you full control, but I’ll try. For as long as I can, I’ll do what you ask.”

  15

  MY RESPONSE IS a small kiss on his right hip and then left, traversing the skin with the tip of my tongue before going lower. There, I leave an open-mouthed kiss at the base of his cock and another up the length, laving the tight skin until my parted lips caress the engorged head.

  The bead at the slit glides across my lips and I can’t stop myself from licking his essence, getting my first taste, and I hum. He’s salty-sweet with a hint of earth, igniting my hunger in a way I’ve never experienced before.

  “Don’t. Move.” The unrestrained yearning in my voice makes him shiver, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t grab me when I take the first two inches into my mouth and let his weight settle on my tongue.

  He’s silky smooth, angry veins desperate for my touch. He’s tense muscles and gritted teeth, watching me behind dilated eyes as a rumble builds in his chest.

  I feel vibrations straight down to my core.

  I’m wet and throbbing and my lack of underwear—the cool air in the room over my slick thighs gives away my desire to do this.

  I need to taste him.

  To have him lose control and take. To let him fuck my mouth.

  Another inch and his thighs tense, the pants sitting just below his ass stretching, and I rake the blunt of my nails down his skin, pulling them down to his feet as my mouth takes him in deeper. I don’t pull off to catch a breath or to tease her with a little teeth; instead, I slowly take him down to the back of my throat and swallow, not pausing until my nose touches the base.

  “Fuck.” Javi hisses, eyes on mine as I touch the edge of his balls with the tip of my tongue. Spit rolls down his shaft and sack. It pools on the floor right in front of his shoes and I hollow my cheeks, pulling back slowly until the only thing that connects us is a string of spit. “God, you’re perfect. Made for me.”

  Large hands twitch and I raise a brow, blowing a little on the bulbous tip. “I said don’t move.”

  “You have five minutes, sweet girl.” The deep vibration of his voice carries throughout the room, and I feel a rush of wetness coat my lips at the threat in his words. He excites me. “Four and a half.”

  Swiping a finger across the slit at the tip, I bring it to my mouth and hum. “Can you make it that long, Javi?”

  “Do your worst.”

  “I plan to.” I’m going to use every single trick I’ve watched porn actresses do. Gripping the bottom of his shirt, I rip the buttons off and leave the two sides open, exposing my perky breasts to his eyes. The piercings glint in the room’s low lighting, my chest heaving as I put half his length back into my mouth and hollow my cheeks. I bob my head while my hands wander my body, from my collarbone to the edge of my mound and back again, pausing to cup a tit in each hand.

  I squeeze them, and he grunts.

  I pull the piercings, tugging hard enough to make me groan around his length, and a curse bellows from him.

  “Son of a bitch, Muñeca. God, baby…just a little deeper.” He’s shaking, body fighting to grab me and take, but he needs that extra push. “Open that sweet little throat for me.”

  A large part of me wants to do just that, but I don’t. Instead, I slow down and pull off, kee
ping just the head between my lips while I pinch a nipple and bring the other hand between my thighs. I also slide closer and lean back, the tip of his shoe sitting just below my pussy.

  I’m hot and swollen. Soaked, and as I slip a finger through my soft lips, his hand fists my hair and tips my head back. Angry eyes meet my excited ones, and his lip curls up into a sneer. “That wasn’t nice, linda.”

  “Are you going to punish me?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m going to watch you come as I use your pretty little mouth.” Pulling away, he bends at the waist and gives me a kiss that curls my toes and sets my blood on fire. It’s fast and perfectly messy, but it’s over too soon and then I find myself choking on his cock on my next breath.

  Javi’s stroke is near punishing, and with my hair wrapped around his fingers, I’m held still while he strokes in deep. He holds still when his balls meet my chin, tapping two fingers against the bulge in my throat and I swallow hard, breathing through my nose and ignoring the urge to gag.

  I’m at his mercy. Being used by him.

  I love it more than I should, but I can’t help and rub my clit a little harder while he stares down my body and begins to thrust in time with my fingers. “Faster, Mariah. Get yourself off while sucking my cock.” The two fingers on my throat become his hand and he wraps it tight, moaning each time he strokes in and feels himself expand my throat.

  “I’m close,” I whimper around his shaft, spit dribbling down the side of my mouth and he wipes up the mess, pushing his thumb inside my mouth, further stretching me. I’m full. His taste dances on my tongue, but it’s when he pumps his thumb twice and then drags the glistening digit to my left nipple and pulls the piercing that I come.

  I scream around him, eyes closed, and rubbing my clit faster as my orgasm takes me over. Pleasure grips me out of nowhere, the hold nearly painful as the pulsing wave consumes me until becoming a throb, and my body feels as if I’ve been electrocuted by a thousand pinpricks. But that’s when I start coming back to my senses and the guttural groans above me become clear.

  Javi’s fucking my mouth with wild abandon. No stopping. No concern, he strokes in and out at a rapid pace while bottoming out each time, using my hair to guide my mouth.

  He feels larger, his growls harsher, and when our eyes connect again, he stills. “Motherfuck.”

  Spurt after spurt glides down my throat and I swallow fast, making sure to not spill a single drop.

  We’re sitting in my bed an hour later, naked and with our legs crossed at the ankles. He’s to my left and quiet, humming now and then some tune I don’t recognize, and eating his slice of tiramisu while my phone lies between us. No shame. Not a care as his dick twitches each time my eyes wander lower.

  And they do. A lot.

  He’s muscles and control and danger.

  He’s tattoos and a few scars that only serve the purpose of raping my psyche.

  And while I’ve fought this thing between us, I know that here, like this, was inevitable. Javier Lucas didn’t take my no at face value and pushed and pushed until my will gave in. He’s been persistent enough for the both of us and while I still have a few reservations, I’m at peace with what’s happened.

  Happy. Excited.

  Is this fast? Yes.

  Does my attraction to a man like him make sense after what happened before? No.

  Moreover, he’s never given me a reason to doubt his word. He’s a man of integrity.

  “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.” Javi’s rough voice breaks my appraisal, and I blush when the words hit me. I look away and toward my turned-off TV hoping for a miracle to break the now heated flush that covers down to the tops of my breast. “Not that I usually mind when it comes to you, but you promised an explanation and a search through your front door security feed.”

  “You suck,” is my mature reply and he snorts, hand on my knee while his body shakes beside mine. “I do.” His hand sweeps higher, pausing just at the edge of my core and squeezes, grip firm. “And I’ll be more than happy to remind you after.”

  A hard shiver rushes through me at the same time I slap his arm. “Maybe I don’t want you to show me.”

  “You do.”

  “So cocky.”

  “I see no point in denying that.” Placing his now empty plate on the nightstand with his unoccupied hand, he shifts to face me a little, a subtle turn of hips that pushes those long, calloused fingers against my still-sensitive clit. “We both know who we are and where we stand; the only thing I need clarification on is the murder of Lane Dermot.”

  “You swing without lubing me up first.”

  His chuckle warms me even when I should be annoyed. “Always aim to please.”

  “All right, dork. How much do you know?”

  All traces of amusement die and he’s back to being the stone-faced killer I met weeks ago. “Nothing but what I told you. Please fill in the blanks.”

  “Okay. But first…” I put my plate down and reach for the large afghan I keep on my bed at all times, pulling it over my naked body “…for distractions’ sake.”

  “I’d rather you don’t.”

  “I’d rather a few things as well, but they’re not conducive to this conversation.” Javi grunts but doesn’t pull my blanket away. Instead, he gives me his attention and waits with patience for me to begin. “Lane and I met years ago when I was still in high school, and we became friends. You know, the kids of affluent families that didn’t fully abide by the law and run in the same social circles, we bumped into each other a lot. He was older than me, a jerk to most and spoiled, but never disrespectful toward me.”

  “How long did you date?”

  “Two years, and no, I didn’t love him then or now.” For some reason, I’m ashamed to admit my faults to this man. To let him see me as anything but a smart, fierce, and independent woman. “My reality now isn’t what it was back then, Javi. I made bad choices. Let others dictate my life.”

  “Malcolm?” There’s venom in his tone, and while I still don’t meet his eyes, I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers. Squeeze them. “Did he force you?”

  “No. He hated Lane.”

  “Then who?”

  “My parents.”

  “I haven’t met them.” Not a question, although his raised brow and pursed lips show displeasure. He’s demanding an explanation without uttering the words, but I read those warm brown eyes, and the anger in them isn’t directed at me.

  “And you more than likely won’t for a long time.” Sighing, I reach over to the bedside table and pick up my bottle of water, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. It gives me a small reprieve, the moment needed to explain the dynamic he isn’t aware of. “They’ve been exiled to Europe for the foreseeable future by Malcolm for their role and the audacity to try and pin the incident on me.”

  “Incident?”

  “I killed Lane the night he attacked me in this apartment two years ago. A few days before our anniversary/engagement dinner was to be held.”

  16

  PRIDE SURGES THROUGH my chest at her words.

  She put the dog down with mercy because had he still been alive today—breathing and walking this earth—I’d have hunted him down and left his entrails for Mildred to find.

  “Do you threaten all the men you meet?” I say, and she giggles a bit, the tension in her shoulders dropping. Is she worried I’d think differently of her? Because if anything, I’m in awe of her and fuming at her parents.

  How could they sell their child out this way?

  “Are your parents active members on the Asher board?” Because if they are, I’ll talk to Malcolm and make the bounty on their heads worthy of his acquiesce. Not that it will stop me, but I don’t want Mariah to lose anyone she cares about.

  “No.” A wayward curl glides across her shoulder and I bring my hand up to her face, turning to fully face her and push it back, tucking the loose strand behind her ear. She shivers, and
I see the two hard little tips beneath the blanket. “After going behind Malcolm’s back and making a deal to expand territories—overthrow two other families that deal in the city in exchange for helping my father claim my cousin’s rightful place, everything was taken. Money, properties, and access to all Asher dealings and buildings around the globe. They’ve been left with a small monthly allowance to live off and that’s it.”

  “Do you talk to them?” Sadness flashes in those seafoam eyes briefly, but just as fast it’s gone. “Miss them?”

  “Not since my last birthday seven months ago.” Mariah pulls her hand from mine and stands, the blanket tightly wrapped around her lithe frame, and walks toward the bathroom. Her foot is over the threshold when she pauses and turns her head slightly, just enough for me to see the pain that lingers from their actions, and I vow at that moment to take it all away. To give her the life she deserves with a faithful man at her side. “That’s the day I buried them after being blamed for destroying their lives. They rather I’d died instead of the asshole who nearly choked me to death.”

  My muñeca slips inside the bathroom with the door closed, and I give her the time she needs. No matter how much my body wants to follow her inside the running shower or pull her close, I pick up our plates instead and run them to the kitchen.

  While she’s soaping up and touching what is mine, I bring us a bottle of water each, find her bottle of ibuprofen, and fix the sheets and covers. She’s upset. I know there’s more that needs to be discussed—the flowers and Mildred—but for tonight, I’ll hold her and make sure she understands that no matter what…

  I’m here.

  And twenty minutes later when she comes back into the now pitch-black room and slips under the covers, I mold my body around hers. Keep her warm and kiss the crown of her head, humming a song that reminds me of her. Her beauty.

  Moreover, when her breathing evens out and body melts into mine, I follow. Allowing my eyes to close and sleep to claim me.