by Eva Ashwood
I know I won’t be able to paint anything else tonight, but I also know I can’t go back to bed yet.
So instead, I find myself staring at the painting I just did, sitting in the quiet room that’s been turned into an art studio for me. A whole room in this beautiful place, dedicated completely to my painting. Not just a section of my own bedroom, a corner in the living room, a makeshift workplace that has to be moved or cleaned up anytime you want to sit down and eat dinner or chill, but a room just for my art.
It’s something I always wanted but never thought I’d get to have.
Despite the shit, despite the fear, despite the fight against Cliff and Alan, part of me feels so fucking lucky.
The Sinners set up this studio for me, and they did it without me even asking. They did it because they care about me.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me look up, and a moment later, Elias’s sleepy form appears in the doorway.
“Hey. Painting again?” he asks, running a hand through his tousled hair.
“Yeah.” I nod, absently rubbing the paint on my thumb deeper into my skin. “I figured I’d try to get some stuff down, in case the new memories that’ve been jarred loose give me anything useful.”
“That’s a good idea.”
He crosses the distance between us, coming to stand behind me and looking over my shoulder at the painting. It means nothing to me, and probably even less to him, but that doesn’t stop us from looking for clues, for anything that might be hidden behind the murky mess of colors.
He shifts his position a little until he’s by my side, and I find myself glancing over at him. He’s shirtless, his bare torso illuminated in the moonlight, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He’s toned and tight in all the right places, perfect lines of muscle and power that give me the sudden urge to pick up one of my brushes and dip it in color before dragging it across his torso.
“Hey. My face is up here, Blue.” His voice is light, but when I drag my gaze up to meet his, I see heat in his eyes.
I bite my lip, my skin going warm. “You’re flirty even in the middle of the night,” I tease before turning to look back at my painting. “What are you doing up?”
His fingers reach out and grasp my chin before I have time to fully turn away, tugging my gaze back to him. “I think the better question is, why are you up?” he murmurs.
“You know why,” I say quietly.
I don’t like talking about the things I feel—the frustration and fear and worry—because it makes them real. Painting is different, because sometimes when it’s on the canvas, it doesn’t feel like me, but talking about it means confronting those feelings.
Elias tugs me toward him, wrapping me in his arms as my cheek rests against his chest. He doesn’t press me to talk, just holds me like that for a long moment as we breathe together.
I release a shuddery breath. “I’m frustrated,” I finally admit, and the words come out harsh. “I hate that even now, even though I’ve confronted everything, so many memories are still escaping me.”
The important ones. The ones that could put Alan behind bars.
The why and the how.
That’s what I really need to know.
“And what’s even worse,” I go on, digging my fingers into the muscles of his back, “I feel like part of the reason that’s happening is because deep down, I don’t really want to remember. It’s crazy to even think about, but for as fucked up as my childhood was after age eleven, the shitty parts that I can remember, I’m pretty sure that what came before was even worse.”
Elias pulls back enough to look down at me. One thumb reaches up to swipe away the single hot tear that rolls down my cheek. Then he drops his head and brushes a kiss against the spot where his thumb just touched, the contact of his lips soft and fleeting.
“Sometimes, it feels like it’s my fault for not remembering,” I admit. “And sometimes, I’d almost rather go back to not knowing, to making up my own versions of what my childhood was.”
His gaze softens, and he pulls me against his bare chest again, burying his face in my neck. His nose brushes against the sweet spot between my neck and shoulder, his lips against my skin, his soft hair tickling my chin and jaw.
“I know I can’t relate. Not really,” he whispers, kissing my pulse. “And I know you’re not a damsel in distress who needs rescuing. But I want to rescue you, Blue. You’re my purpose now. Keeping you safe, and beyond that, making you happy. Not just now, but for as long as I can imagine. That’s all I want.”
He means it. Every single word. I can hear it in the way his voice goes hoarse with emotion, feel it in the way he wraps himself around me as he says the words.
When he lifts his head and looks down at me, my heart swells. I’ll admit, it scares the shit out of me, just like I suspect it scares the shit out of him to lay his heart so bare. But this thing between us, between all of us, is too big to be held back by fear.
And I’m done fighting it.
When I was a little girl, Alan Montgomery taught me that no one could be trusted. He taught me to fight. He made me so jaded, so fucked up, I thought I would never trust again.
But the Sinners? They taught me that trust is real. They taught me that sometimes, there are fights that are worth giving up on.
So when Elias leans in and kisses me, I give up the fight.
I surrender completely.
11
Elias’s scent fills my nostrils as his lips move against mine. It’s fresh and sweet, some combination of his body wash and the scent of his skin, and it’s addictive as fuck.
I want to wrap myself up in it, to drown in it.
“God, I can never get enough of you, Blue,” he groans softly, his hands framing my face as he kisses me over and over.
“Me too,” I whisper, my fingertips moving over his back and shoulders.
The warmth of his skin seeps into my body everywhere I touch him. I can feel the bulge of his cock through his sweats, and I love that it just takes a few kisses to get him hard for me. Ready for me. Hungry for me.
It’s only fair, because I’m already wet for him.
Wrapping my arms tighter around him, I pull him closer, grinding against his cock a little in a way that makes him groan. Still cupping the sides of my face, he begins to walk me backward, and I move willingly, trusting him not to let me fall.
We only stop when my back hits the wall, and Elias leans into me, pressing his body against mine as he traps me against the smooth surface. Our kiss breaks, and I tilt my head back a little as he trails his lips down my neck.
The room is still dim and shadowy, lit only by the beams of moonlight streaming through the window. But the paintings around us don’t seem as ominous now that Elias is here with me. I let my gaze drift up to the ceiling, ignoring the reminders of my past for the moment as I focus entirely on the present.
On the feel of Elias’s lips on my collarbone.
On the pressure of his teeth as he nips at my shoulder.
On the large hand that snakes up under my tank top to squeeze and massage my breast.
That’s all that matters right now. It’s all that’s real.
This.
Us.
With a low humming sound, Elias drops his head to my other breast, catching my nipple between his teeth through the fabric of my tank top. I yelp softly, and he chuckles. Then he drops down to his knees in front of me, letting his hands come to settle on my waist.
When he hooks the waistband of my sleep shorts and panties, he looks up at me. His light brown eyes look almost as dark as Declan’s as shadows fall over his face, and I bite my lip as I gaze down at him.
In a deliberate motion, he peels my shorts and panties down my legs, lifting each foot until he can toss the little pieces of fabric to one side. He hasn’t even bothered taking off my tank top, but now that he’s got my lower half bare, he doesn’t seem to care. His gaze fixes on the apex of my thighs, and I wonder if he can see the slickness of my a
rousal glinting in the dim light.
I hope so. I hope he can see that I’m already dripping for him.
For his words. For his voice. For his touch.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he reaches out and slides one finger through my folds. His shoulders tense as he curses under his breath. “Fuck, Blue. You wreck me.”
I don’t point out that my legs almost just buckled from one touch. A girl’s gotta have a little pride, after all.
So I keep my mouth shut and brace all my weight against the wall behind me as Elias leans in and runs his tongue up the line of my folds. My knees wobble again, and I practically gouge holes in the plaster as I press my fingers against it, trying to hold myself upright.
“You taste so good,” he mutters, gripping my hips as he rolls his tongue up and down the length of me, like he’s trying to eat me alive.
“Jesus, Elias.”
It’s all I can get out, and I sound a little pissed. Like I can’t believe he could do this to me with so little effort—wreck me as badly as I wreck him.
He chuckles against my skin, and as if my words were a personal challenge to him, he starts to eat me out in earnest, burying his face between my legs and teasing his tongue over every part of my pussy. When he finds my clit and circles it with firm strokes, my hips buck toward his face.
He tightens his hold on me, reaching down to lift one leg and drape it over his shoulder as he spears me with his stiffened tongue, fucking me with it deeper than I would’ve thought possible.
One of my hands goes to his hair, sliding through the soft golden strands and gripping hard as my standing leg vibrates like we’re in the middle of a fucking earthquake.
“Shit, Elias. Fuck!” I arch my back a little, bowing away from the wall as I follow the incredible sensations he’s drawing out in me, trying to satisfy the throbbing ache in my clit.
I’m close already. So fucking close from the warmth of his mouth and the softness of his breath. From the hungry way his lips and tongue move over me.
“You taste so goddamn amazing.” He groans, and I know he’s done trying to tease me. He needs this as much as I do. Needs to feel me come. “I could eat you all day and still want more.”
My eyes are rolling back into my head, my hips rolling against his face, and the idea of doing this for hours, of his face pink and flushed from being buried in my pussy, makes my breath catch.
He must sense it. He can probably feel how every muscle in my body just locked up tight, because he closes his mouth over my clit and thrashes his tongue back and forth, summoning up a hurricane of pleasure inside me.
“Fuck!”
It’s half whisper and half scream, and it dies out in a breathy groan as the orgasm breaks over me. I’m squirming in his hold, writhing against him as he keeps licking me, and as the aftershocks recede, my standing leg wobbles uncontrollably. When he releases my other leg from over his shoulder, I slide down the wall in an inelegant heap.
“Oh, shit! Are you okay, Blue?”
Elias crouches in front of me, helping me right myself as laughter and worry battle for dominance in his expression.
“Yeah, yeah.” I give him a mock scowl that I know is completely ruined by my flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “Maybe I have an inner ear problem.”
“Uh huh.” He pulls me up onto my knees like him so our bodies are pressed flush together. “Or maybe I’m just that good.” He cocks an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Have Gray or Declan ever made you fall over?”
I laugh, then shove at his chest instead of answering. I know the guys are all okay with sharing me, but I’m not going to start some sort of competition between them.
If they want to compare styles and techniques, they can do it in front of each other.
That thought brings a rush of memories to the forefront of my mind. My clit throbs as I remember the three men surrounding me on Gray’s bed and making me come with their hands and mouths. And more recently, the night of my art show, when Elias fucked me in full view of his friends as they jerked themselves off.
It was one of the hottest moments of my life, and the thought of repeating that, of fucking all three of them at once, makes molten heat surge through my veins.
Elias’s eyes darken, and I’m pretty sure he’s guessed what I’m thinking. He doesn’t look hesitant or pissed off that I’m thinking about sleeping with his friends and him at the same time.
Instead, he looks turned the fuck on by it.
My pussy gushes wetness, and I shove at his chest again, a little harder this time. He gets the hint and drops down to his back on the floor, gazing up at me. I pull my tank top off then move toward him.
We’re both breathing harder as I begin to work his sweats and boxer briefs over his hips. As soon as they’re off, he grabs my waist and pulls me up to straddle him. The movement drags my swollen pussy over the hard line of his cock, and we each hiss out a breath.
“Fuck, Blue. I need to be inside you. I need it, like, yesterday,” he rasps out.
I nod, fisting his length and holding it steady as I adjust my position, then rise up and sink back down on his thick cock.
Goddammit, he feels good.
He stretches me in just the right way, and I love how his abs flex and contract as I shift my hips from side to side a little, bringing him deeper inside me. I stay still for a few heartbeats, soaking up the perfect feeling of fullness. Then I brace my hands on his chest before rising up and sliding back down.
My toes curl against the cool, smooth floor, and I repeat the motion over and over, moving faster as pleasure builds inside me. I lean forward a little, letting my blond and blue hair tumble around my face as I find the perfect angle. My clit is still throbbing and sensitive, and a rush of pleasure moves through me as I rub against Elias with every stroke.
He’s watching me, his eyes hooded and warm. His hands roam over my body, finally landing on my breasts, where he pinches and flicks my nipples. When I bite my lip, he does it again, urging me on as I ride him harder and harder.
His hips jerk up toward mine, making our bodies collide with even more force, and finally, it’s more than I can take. I shudder from head to toe as I come hard on his cock, squeezing and pulsing around him. He lets out a deep grunt, and I know he’s close.
But before he can finish, I slide off him quickly. My pussy is still spasming a little, and I feel suddenly empty without his thickness inside me.
“Blue, what…?”
Elias’s gruff voice trails off as he realizes what I’m doing. He makes a hungry sound low in his throat as I turn around, then swing one leg over his hips again. Facing his feet, I slide his cock back inside my tight channel and sink down.
Everything feels different from this angle, and judging by the way Elias’s fingers dig into my hips, he doesn’t hate it. It takes me a second to find my rhythm, and then I begin to bounce on his cock again, pushing him toward the climax that I know is so close.
“Oh, god. I’m not gonna last long. Jesus, you look so fucking perfect like this.”
Elias’s voice is rough and strained, and as his powerful thighs tense under my fingers, he reaches up and wraps his hand around my hair, fisting the long strands. His hold on me forces me to arch my back a little, and we both moan in satisfaction at that.
“Ride me, baby,” he whispers, and I can tell he’s almost all the way gone now. “Make me come.”
So I do, clenching around him as I slide up and down his length, my movements sharp and hard. When his hips arch up to meet mine and his cock pulses inside me, I tip my head back and let him fill me with hot cum.
He sits up suddenly, wrapping an arm around my waist and plastering my back against his chest as the last shudders of his orgasm wrack his body. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, kissing my heated skin as I go limp against him.
“You’re incredible, Blue,” he whispers breathlessly. “I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.”
With his arms around me, I feel
completely encased by him. Protected by him. The nightmares that woke me up and drove me into the studio in the first place seem like they’re a million miles away.
I still have to dredge up the past. I still need to remember everything I can.
But I feel better now. Elias’s sweet words and possessive touch are the reminder I needed that I’m not alone.
That when the demons of my old life come out to play, the Sinners will be here with me to face them.
12
The next morning, there’s debate about whether I should go back to school at all, but I can’t afford to ditch many more classes if I want to keep my grades up. And I hate the idea of Alan making me fail out of Hawthorne University by scaring me out of going to class.
The guys grudgingly agree, although I know all of them hate it. But Gray already tried the “get Sophie to leave for her own good” tactic once, and he remembers how well that worked—or didn’t work. So instead, all three men make plans to keep an eye on me while we’re on campus.
Our new place is less than five minutes away from the campus, and despite the fact that I’ve been going to Hawthorne for almost a year now, as we pull into the parking lot, it almost feels like it’s the first time I’ve been here.
“Jesus. Why do I suddenly feel nervous?” I mutter as Gray stops the car and cuts the engine.
I realize as soon as the words are out of my mouth that I probably shouldn’t have said them. He’s already wound tight with worry for me, and I’m the one who petitioned hardest to keep going to classes. I shouldn’t be giving him more reasons to start the car back up, drive to our new place, and lock me up in my studio or something for safekeeping.
But instead of doing any of that, he just looks over at me, his jaw set with determination.
“It’ll be all right, Sparrow,” he says, “you’ve got us.”
I do have them. Which is why I’m able to keep my cool when we run into Caitlin and her posse halfway across campus. Gemma is right behind Caitlin, and Reagan trails behind them both.
