Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Izzy, wait.” He rounds me, ensuring he doesn’t touch me, and blocks the doorway. I take in his bare feet, the thread of his worn jeans dragging the carpet as he steps toward me. “I would never hurt you.”

  I look up at him, my eyes brimming. “Not physically, no. But you’re hurting me here.” I thump my hand over my chest. “The hospital was my haven, Theo. It was the one place in the world I felt safe, and you’ve taken it away from me.” I quickly look down, realizing I’ve said too much, and close my eyes, hoping he doesn’t push me.

  “Izzy, look at me,” he begs, his hand reaching for mine slowly. I don’t withdraw or stop him, but instead let him tentatively brush across my skin before he takes hold of my hand. I look up at him, finding sorrow and despair to match mine. “I want to be your safe haven,” he whispers, lifting my hand to his cheek, holding it there. The feel of his bristle across my palm is harsh but so soft. I don’t want it to be, but it’s soothing.

  I’m losing my battle to keep my emotion at bay, and tears tumble down my cheeks as he gently takes me in his arms. I feel overwrought and helpless, yet safer than I’ve ever felt before. He’s taken away my safe place and replaced it with another, but my new safe place is probably impenetrable. It’s made of steel and reinforced with iron. It’s real, and it can truly protect me. It’s him.

  I sob into Theo’s chest, my head a riot of troubled thoughts. I can have my job and the security of the hospital, or I can have Theo and the security of him. Simply him. And as I cling to him, my tears soaking into his T-shirt, my small body jerking in his strong hold, I silently accept that no one can keep me safer than Theo can. But I have to work. I want to keep doing what I love.

  He sighs into my hair as he cups the back of my head, pushing me more and more into his chest, as if wanting to meld us together. And he holds me for the longest time until my jerks have subsided, and my tears finally stop falling.

  “I’m sorry,” he says on a sigh. “So sorry. I’ll make it right, I promise.” He frees me from his arms and smiles sadly as he wipes under my eyes. “Forgive me?”

  How can I not? How can I reject him when he’s looking at me like this, with sincerity and hope in his tired eyes? I swallow and nod, breathing out. “You need to control your temper.”

  He nods, looking away and falling into thought. It’s reassuring, because I can see he’s silently agreeing with me. “Come.” He plants the gentlest of kisses on my forehead and then slowly turns me in his arms, leading me out with his palms engulfing my shoulders.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, reaching up and sliding my hands onto his. I feel heat close in at my ear, my shoulders rolling up, my eyes closing.

  “My room,” he says, so seductively, the super low tone going super low into my groin. I bite my lip as he pushes me on up the stairs, sparks of anticipation dancing across my skin. “We’re about to have make-up sex for the first and last time. Are you naked under my robe?”

  My mouth is suddenly parched, so I nod. He growls mildly, flexing his hands beneath mine, a silent instruction to move them. The moment I peel them away, one of Theo’s palms slips down to my waist, taking the tie of the robe. He tugs until it loosens, still walking us up the stairs. When we’ve reached the top, I’m steered right, and he grips the soft material at my shoulders in his fists. “Keep walking,” he instructs, and I force my sight forward, focusing on the door to Theo’s private quarters ahead. Cool air finds my breasts first, teasing my nipples into hard bullets, then crawls across the rest of my naked front. I shiver, concentrating on keeping my slow pace as Theo looms behind me, following my steps and drawing the robe away from my body. I hear the light thud as the mass of fabric hits the carpet. He’s dropped it, and while I know it will be found by Jefferson before Theo is done with me, I haven’t the inclination to tell him to pick it up. His arm extends past me to reach for the door, and his lips meet my naked shoulder. I turn my face into him, letting my eyes flutter open as the heat of his mouth on my skin chases away the coolness engulfing me. I’m hot, lustful.

  “Please don’t tie me up,” I beg quietly, letting him at my face, his teeth nibbling across my cheek to my lips. I want him to let me touch him, feel him, to hold him like he holds me.

  My plea is ignored, his front pushing into my back. I walk forward, hearing the door close behind me, and then I’m swooped into his arms and carried into his bedroom. He lays me on the bed, placing my hands over my head. I look up and see the bedposts. Then back down to see the cuffs he bought me in his hands. I hold my breath, watching as he unfastens the leather bands one at a time, as he walks on his knees and settles his jean-clad arse on his calves, fixing the cuffs around my wrists.

  “I want to touch you,” I murmur, locking eyes with him, hoping he sees in their depths just how much.

  He pauses, straightening a little, looking down at his chest briefly before back at me. “Then touch me,” he replies, taking my hand and resting it on his pec.

  I relish the feel of him, but it isn’t what I meant. “While you’re making love to me.”

  He smiles, understanding, but goes back to his job of securing me. “I hope in time, sweetheart.” He fixes me up with both cuffs and collects two long lengths of satin from the drawer beside the bed. He loops a length of material through each chunky metal hoop and ties them to the bedposts, pulling them taut so my arms are stretched to full length. I breathe in deeply, my legs shifting, my breasts aching painfully with need. This time, he leaves my legs free and straddles my waist, still fully clothed. A palm lands on the mattress at each side of my head, his face coming close to mine. I pant, my heart hammering a needy beat as I search his eyes, finding need in him, too. But on top of that, desperation, hunger, and, most of all, devotion. It’s shining from his eyes like shards of hopeful light.

  He lets his mouth gently brush over mine, from side to side, back and forth, and I moan, lifting my head to catch his lips. But he pulls away, and I whimper, letting my head drop back to the bed. He draws a perfect line down the bridge of my nose and onto my mouth. “Don’t think,” he breathes, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. “Don’t speak.” Then he replaces his thumb with a worshipful kiss. “Just feel how much I want you. Feel how much I need you. I’m just Theo, Izzy.” Keeping his body suspended on one arm, he reaches down with his other, his fingers walking their way across my stomach, down, down, down…

  My back arches off the bed, my arms burning from stretching so much. He slips his fingers between my thighs and spreads me wide, watching me falling to pieces as a result of one single touch. My pants come short and fast as I struggle to breathe through the agonizingly pleasurable feeling of his fingers gliding over my flesh, his touch softly circling my tiny bud of screaming nerves.

  “Feel nice?” he asks, his own chest heaving. He keeps his hand between my legs, playing with me while I’m rigid, and pulls his T-shirt off with his other, grabbing the hem and ripping it upward. I close my eyes and pray for help. “Does it feel nice, Izzy?”

  “Yes,” I answer into my darkness, the vision of his torso so potent, I can still see it perfectly behind my closed lids. One finger slips inside me, and I gasp, turning my face into my armpit, searching for somewhere to hide. He’s suddenly moving, the abrupt loss of his weight on my hips and his finger plunged deep startling me. My eyes flip open and see he’s removed his jeans already. The thick smoothness of his cock has me licking my lips. He climbs on me, looks down, grasps himself, levels up, and enters me with ease, sliding through my welcoming wetness and hitting home on a satisfied exhale of ragged air. Beads of sweat form across his top lip, glistening between his whiskers as the weight of his stare holds me in place. Theo stills, submerged the deepest he could be. Those blue eyes are so reverent, to the point they could hypnotize me. His forearms cradle my head. “Wrap your legs around me,” he orders. “Tightly.”

  He doesn’t need to ask me twice. My free legs coil around his perfectly formed waist and lock down, my ankles linking and pushing into his lo
wer back. One would think my position would hinder his movements. But no. He starts to gently rock, the friction minimal but the fullness consistent, his slow grinding, circling, and rubbing working me up into a fevered mess. He’s being delicate with me. Looking at me with adoration. His strength feels so right held between my locked thighs. His confidence is here, so is his domination, but there’s something missing.

  “I’m not feeling like much of a whore right now,” I say, my forehead resting against his, his movements consistent and meticulously executed.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not feeling like much of a hard bastard right now, either.”

  I smile and ravage his mouth, and he lets me maul him for a few pleasurable moments. My kiss becomes hungrier and my internal muscles pull at him constantly, trying to draw his release forward, too. I’m not going to last much longer. “Are you close?” I ask, not bothering to try to hide my hope. “Tell me you’re close.”

  “You go, baby.”

  “No.” I cut the build back, seeking out the crook of his neck and burying my face there.

  “Go,” he orders again, tactically switching the direction of his rotations and stirring a tremor of pleasure that cuts right through me. My muscles lock.

  “No, Theo.” My arms start to yank and pull, my impending orgasm defying my orders and steaming forward.

  “Go,” he breathes, sliding his palm to my nape and lifting my head, holding his mouth to mine. “Take it and remember through the haze how good it feels. Me inside you. My cock surrounded by your pussy. My body owning yours.” He sweeps his tongue through my mouth. “Remember how much you mean to me.”

  The orgasm slams into me with epic force and bends my body, injecting strength that defies my small frame, jolting Theo up as I scream my way through it. I lose control of everything, my body racking violently as pleasure burns through my bloodstream.

  My legs fall limp, my head to the side, and I gasp for breath as he circles his groin, maximizing the sensations and the length of my release. He molds the back of my neck until I’m drained dry and boneless under the weight of him. “Oh God.” I shudder, the aftereffects showing no signs of freeing me from the wonder of my release. It just keeps coming and coming, putting my heart under strain and sending my mind spiraling.

  “That sounded good,” Theo muses with deep satisfaction, rolling his hips on and on.

  “Stop,” I breathe, my clitoris starting to zing sensitively. My stomach muscles feel shredded, my skin clammy.

  “I’ll never stop.” He leans down and nuzzles my face. “Give me your mouth.” I turn into him, letting my mouth fall open in welcome. The soft roll of his tongue around mine has me moaning and humming, the sounds pleading as well as gratifying. I can’t get enough of him. “I’m going to free your hands,” he whispers past my lips. “I’m going to turn you over, and you’re going to hold on to the bed, okay?”

  I nod, eager, though slightly nervous about the power that I’m about to accept into my body from behind. Teeth lightly bite my lip and pull away, and he reaches to my wrists in turn and unfastens the leather cuffs. A satisfied smile creases his cheeks when he checks my wrists, clearly finding no friction marks. I don’t have the chance to see for myself. One swift move sees him flipping me over to my hands and knees. “Hold on,” he orders, taking my hands to the gold bar spanning the bed.

  I grip hard, feeling my hips being pulled back as he’s poised behind me, spreading my legs with his knee. My head drops, my lungs expanding in preparation.

  “Arch your back, Izzy,” he says, drawing a perfect straight line down my spine to my bum, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. I groan, my back bending to his will.

  “Now that make-up sex is done, are you ready to be fucked like a whore?”

  I swallow hard, nodding into my darkness, just as his palm collides with my flesh. A yelp, part surprise and part pain, jerks my body back, and my bum crashes into his groin. I get another swift slap in return.

  “Be still,” he growls, his hand skimming the skin of my abused arse.

  My hold on the bar tightens, blood whooshing in my ears. The folds of my entrance get separated, and when the tip of his cock slips across my slickness, I grit my teeth. “Your pussy.” He slides in, his voice shaking. “Oh Jesus.”

  The muscles of my walls greedily draw him into me, my hips rocking to accommodate his sheer size. Strong fingers dig into my flesh and hold me still, and I hear him working to control his labored breathing. Any minute now, he’s going to power into action. I need to be prepared, so I join Theo and try to regulate my ragged breaths.

  It’s futile.

  The first crash of his body against mine catapults me forward on a scream. And from there, he finds his pace quickly, and he keeps it, pounding on, yanking me back onto him repeatedly until I’m dizzy and my throat is sore from my variations of screams and cries, ecstasy and pain, despair and delight. My arms brace against the bed, and the sounds of two people fucking wildly fill the room, probably even the whole damn mansion, maybe reaching as far as the Playground. How the bed is sustaining us is beyond me. He goes on and on, yelling, slapping my arse, and reaching down to feel my breasts. I begin to wonder how much more I can take when I hear Theo suck in air and hold it. He’s on his way. I can feel the thickening of his dick even through the chaotic thrusting of our bodies.

  “Oh, fuck,” he bellows, slamming on harder. My mind blanks of everything except the unexpected orgasm that smashes into me with equal force as Theo’s body. The power of it takes me out, and I collapse to the bed, Theo following me down and grinding his hips in smooth, effective rotations.

  The sheets are wet beneath me, my hair damp, and my skin burning. I was just fucked like a whore. And, strangely, I feel more precious than ever with my big man twitching on top of me, his skin slipping over mine as my cheek rests on the pillow and I stare across the bed. “See how much I want you?” he pants, biting at my shoulder.

  I beam wide, happy beyond description, and his mouth pauses. I feel him smile against my skin before he abruptly flips me to my back and pins me to the bed, my arms high above my head. His chest hovering above me, shimmering with sweat and undulating with his erratic breathing, only stretches my smile more, making my face hurt. How? How does he do this to me? He blows a cool stream of air across my cheek, dislodging a lock of hair that’s stuck there. Then he grins, arching a brow as he scans my flustered face.

  The vision of raw masculinity floating over me is just…it’s just…just…I sigh. I’ve run out of words. Theo Kane is like marshmallow coated with steel. He’s a big softy in a hard exterior. He’s a certain kind of cut handsome that I think only I can see. Because the hard lines of his gorgeous face don’t affect me like they do others. I don’t tremble in my boots or shake with dread in his presence. Instead, I quiver with want and vibrate with need.

  My gentleman sinner. “I want you, too,” I say, and he smiles, closing his eyes and placing the wet skin of his forehead against mine.

  But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I can feel his appreciation, hear it in his calming breathing, and smell it in the thick scent of sex in the air. And I wonder…is he speaking in code? I’ve fallen for him, so fucking hard, but for the first time, I think about how Theo sees me. How he feels. Am I just a strange fascination to him, because he finds himself hyperaware of me and my touch? Because he craves it? Likes it? My heart sinks a little, because I wish for so much more from him. Then he drops the most tender of kisses on my lips and my heart lifts again. I’m being stupid. He’s given me no reason to doubt his intentions. Even his psycho behavior speaks of a man who cares.

  “Let’s get ready. You can come with me today.” He peels his body away from mine and gets up off the bed. I quickly prop myself up on my elbows so I can indulge in the delight of his naked back as he strides to the bathroom. I cross one leg over the other and ogle the striking definition, my gaze climbing up his thighs, over the perfect swell of his arse, up to his back. I tilt
my head and get a few precious seconds to admire his tattoo before he disappears through the doorway. I collapse back to the bed and smile. “Where are we going?” I call, hearing the spray of the shower kick in.

  “I have a few errands to run.”

  What errands does a man like Theo Kane run? “I need clothes.”

  “Then we’ll stop by your place.” He appears at the door with a razor in his hand, a cheeky grin spanning his face. “Do you think Callum strangled Jess or fucked her?”

  I bolt upright on the bed and mentally run through last night. When it comes back to me, I throw wide, wary eyes at Theo. He nods, silently telling me that I remember right, before he returns to the bathroom. I’m up like a bullet. “Which is more likely?” I ask, joining him by the Jack and Jill sink.

  He swishes the water around the bowl, looking at me in the reflection of the mirror. My unabashed curiosity is clear, and Theo seems to find it amusing. “Knowing Callum, probably both.”

  My expression morphs into horror as Theo chuckles, flipping the tap off. “Knowing Callum? What, does murdering someone while he fucks them turn him on?” I’m getting very worried for my friend. I’ve not been able to read Callum from the second I met him, but his capabilities are pretty clear. He’s as dangerous as Theo, if a little more in control of himself.