by Sam Mariano
When his tongue teases my clit, the pleasure is so intense, I could almost come for him right then. I’ve never had someone bring me to orgasm as quickly as Sin can, but everything about him excites me. Just visualizing that beautiful, sensual mouth lapping at the most intimate part of my body causes my stomach to tighten, then he stabs my clit just the right way and my left leg jerks.
I clutch two fistfuls of bedding above me, writhing helplessly. “Oh, Sin. Oh, God.”
His fingers tighten on my thighs and he pulls my pussy against his face harder, his tongue wringing half-assed gasps and whimpers—just a string of pitiful noises out of me. Then I come for him, and I couldn’t care less what kind of noises I’m making. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. I can still feel him between my legs, but he’s not prodding my oversensitive parts, he’s just kissing along my lips in the sweetest way.
God, I love that.
Sated at least for the moment, I sigh with contentment. I love every second that we spend like this. I love being here in this bed with him. I want him closer, but he already seems to know that. Now that he’s done eating me out, he climbs on the bed beside me. Without delay, I turn and curl up against him, as close as I can get.
“That was wonderful. Thank you,” I murmur.
“My pleasure,” he assures me, lightly caressing my arm with his thumb as he holds me.
As my limbs begin to feel capable of supporting my weight again, I let my hand drift down between his legs so I can rub him. He’s already hard, so I unbutton and unzip his slacks, sliding my hand down the front and wrapping my fingers around his cock.
“My turn to play,” I murmur, kissing my way along his muscled chest, then circling his nipple with my tongue.
Sin closes his eyes for a moment while I work him, then he opens them and his eyes lock on me. I love when he watches me. I want to know what he’s thinking right now, but I know he won’t tell me if I ask.
I want to dive into him and swim around until I know all his secrets. I feel like I can see so much looking at him, but logically I know there’s still so much I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like anything matters outside this bubble, like I just want to forget that life exists outside of Sin’s house and build upon what we have here. I want him to possess me completely, to obliterate everything that came before him and consume me so he’s all that comes next.
It’s almost scary. It would be scary if I didn’t feel so securely attached to him, like he’s my rock. The need to express gratitude hits me hard and I release him so I can climb off the bed just long enough to tug off his pants and underwear. I need his cock in my mouth. I need to worship him and let him know how much I crave him.
Sin crawls back toward the middle of the bed so I have more room to work, and I sink between his legs. I grip his hard cock in one hand and kiss it, gently at first, and then with more fervor. I want him to feel how much I crave him, how much I adore this beautiful instrument. Stroking him close to the base, I stick my tongue out and drag it along his generous length. I lick it again beneath, then the other side, then I flatten my tongue and cover as much of his cock with it as I can.
“Fuck, Laurel.”
Satisfaction flows through me and I smile up at him, gripping his cock firmly and tugging it up and down. “You like that, baby?”
Sin nods, watching me. I feel relieved that he accepted my endearment, then express my gratitude by opening my mouth and taking the tip inside so I can I play with it. God, I love to play with him. A guttural noise rumbles from his throat and my heart soars. I want to please him more, so I take him deeper.
Sin wants some control now, so he reaches down and gathers my hair in a pony tail, wrapping it around his scarred fist and guiding my mouth over his cock. He must want my throat, because once I get a good rhythm going, he shoves his whole length to the back of my throat and holds me there while I struggle to take it. My muscles relax and I manage, then I position my tongue under him so that when he pulls my head back, my tongue caresses him.
“Mm, yes, you know I like that.”
And he knows I like when he holds onto my hair and brutally fucks my throat. Or, if he doesn’t know it, I certainly do. Even though he just got me off, I start to get turned on again as he uses my mouth for his pleasure, and when he comes, my pussy clenches like I’m the one being pleasured.
I try to pull back, but he holds my head still. “Nope, you get every last drop.”
His words make me wetter than I already was. I use my lips and tongue until he’s satisfied with my clean-up job, then he releases my hair.
I give his dick a couple more soft kisses, then I crawl up and burrow back into my spot beside him. Sin wraps his arm back around me and tugs me close, but he keeps his eyes closed, like he’s at peace. It makes me feel more fulfilled than maybe anything else ever has that I played a part in giving him that.
My arm around him tightens, but he’s still not close enough. I want him closer. I want him inside me. Not just to fuck me, I want him to live there. Somehow he is already in my blood; I’m like a junkie in this bed, yearning for my next hit.
My stomach hollows out as it hits me, the illogical, insane, ill-fated realization.
I’m in love with Sin.
Maybe I don’t know enough to love love him, but I know this feeling, this natural high. It’s the same feeling lovestruck fools dating back to forever have been hit with, the feeling that inspires poetry and music and art. I crave him. I derive so much pleasure just from his mere presence; he excites me and preoccupies me, completely dominating my thoughts. I want to know every thought that goes through his head, and share every idea that flits through mine. Mostly, I want to stay here in this bed with him, kissing his scarred knuckles and drawing pleasure out of his magnificent body forever, the rest of the world bedamned.
Could I really be in love with this man who hasn’t even kissed me? Who hasn’t even fucked me? Without even penetrating my body, could he have found a way inside me? More dangerous than sex, not as permanent as real love, but an on-ramp, a spot in my heart he shouldn’t have access to. Somehow Sin is already inside me in the way that really matters, and he seems to have found a shortcut to getting there.
Could that have really happened in just a few days?
Apparently, it can, because here I am.
Fuck.
I am in love.
30
Laurel
So, how was your date?”
I’m still reeling from the epiphany that I am in love with this man I know so little about, and he tosses a proverbial glass of water in my face. I should be used to his sharp edges by now; I don’t even know why I’m surprised.
For whatever reason, those sharp edges don’t bother me though. They still manage to surprise me, but I consider it part of the Sin package deal at this point. Experiencing some level of arousal and/or intimacy? Brace for him to throw something unpleasant your way and try to kill the mood. I wonder if it might be a subconscious way of trying to push me away, which brings me back to wondering what kind of relationship issues he might have. I guess if I’m in love with this jagged-edged maniac, I should probably learn those things about him.
Right now I’m more interested in learning every curve of his body. I love lying here like this with him—even if he’s hurling unpleasantness at me. I’ll show him how well I can duck and miss every barb he lobs at me.
“It wasn’t a date,” I tell him, tracing shapes on his bare chest with my index finger.
He cocks an eyebrow, his tragically beautiful face the very picture of skepticism. “No? Seems like it was.”
“I don’t think it would have ended with me sucking your dick if it had been a date,” I point out, smiling mildly.
He doesn’t seem mad, but I can’t quite put a finger on what he’s exuding. “Where did he take you?”
I squirm, but I don’t want to leave his embrace, so I stay here despite the mild discomfort. “A couple bookstores, a botanical garden, private helicop
ter ride over and into the Grand Canyon, then we had a picnic lunch. He didn’t bring dessert and I’m a big fan of dessert, so we went to the strip, strolled around Paris and New York for a bit, and when we had room, we hit up a bakery for strawberry shortcakes.”
Sin is quiet for a few seconds, then he says, “So, not a date—six dates. Got it.”
“We were just hanging out, Sin. It was zero dates,” I say, squeezing him a little tighter. “He knows I like you. It was not a date, I swear.”
He doesn’t buy that at all. “It was six dates rolled into one day. He took you to the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, Laurel.”
My stomach sinks, but I don’t know how to argue with that, so I give him a puppy dog pout instead. “Please don’t be mad at me. I thought about you all day. I wanted to text you, but I didn’t know if I was allowed. I had no idea he was going to take me to do all that stuff. Besides, you told me to go with him. I would have told him no and stayed home if you hadn’t. If you aren’t comfortable with me spending time with him, I won’t do it again.”
“I’m not mad at you, Laurel; I was just asking how your day went.”
“But you keep saying it was a date.”
“It was a marathon date. He pulled out all the stops. Did he try anything? Did he kiss you? Touch you?”
I’m bothered by the way he asks—not so much in the jealous way you might expect of a man lying in bed with you, asking about the day you spent with his rival for your affections. His tone is calm, but then I guess that’s probably better than an irate asshole who flies off the handle.
It’s just, I sort of feel like he has a right to be mad if I consented to going on a date with Rafe. I wouldn’t be lying here with him if I wanted someone else.
Seeking to reassure him even if he’s pretending he doesn’t need it, I say, “Nope. Casual touches, but he didn’t try to kiss me or anything like that.”
With a knowing nod, Sin says, “He will. He’s going to start coming after you hard.”
That makes my heart ache. I don’t want Sin to feel like he can’t trust me, or that Rafe is a threat to whatever we’re building here. It makes me feel even worse because of the conflicted feelings I had in the Grand Canyon, when even I got a little wobbly.
There’s no wobble now. I know exactly how I feel about Sin, even if I can’t always tell how he feels about me. Sin makes me feel free in a way I never have, understood in a way I didn’t even know I wanted. Lying here in each other’s arms like this, there’s nowhere else I would rather be. I need to reassure him—I want him to make me his. I want to see where this goes, because I love where it has gone so far.
Hooking my leg over his, I round up all my nerve and tell Sin, “So give him a reason not to.”
Sin meets my gaze. “What?”
“Right now he can come after me, right? Because I’m single. Because when I refer to us, I don’t know what to call it. Because he sees this as just a hook-up.”
I can’t read Sin’s expression, so I don’t know what he’s thinking. This is scary enough when you know the other person is on board, scary enough when you haven’t told yourself for days that your situation is okay because it is just casual, but what am I supposed to do? The way I feel for Sin isn’t going away. Maybe I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m agreeing to, and it could certainly be a mistake, but maybe Sin is right. Maybe if I want the role of a lifetime, I have to put my money where my mouth is. Maybe Sin is a gamble, maybe staying in Vegas is a horrible mistake, but I’ll never know if I don’t give it a shot.
Taking Sin’s hand and linking our fingers together, I meet his gaze, even though it terrifies me to do so. I hold on for dear life and make the leap. “Make me not single. Make me yours.”
Something like a smile tugs at the corners of Sin’s lips. He shakes his head slightly, then brings our entwined hands up to his lips so he can place a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “That wouldn’t make him want you less, Laurel. Rafe likes to chase what he can’t have. The higher out of his reach it is, the more appealing it looks to him. Thinking I want you is what took him from ‘get the fuck out of my town, I never want to see you again’ to pursuing you full-force in just a few days. I told you Rafe likes competition. I thought it went without saying he ultimately wants to win.”
“Well, it’s not up to him,” I point out. “It’s up to me. I’m not a prize, I’m a person. I’m not awarded to the best player; I go where I want, and I want to be with you.”
His words could be mean, but his tone is gentler than it usually is. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” I insist. “I know it’s a little crazy, but you’re the one that said fuck what people think, I should do what feels right. Well, this feels right. You feel right. More right than anything ever has. It doesn’t make sense, but maybe it doesn’t need to. Maybe I’m supposed to follow my heart instead of my head this time.”
Now he drops my gaze. “Laurel…”
My heart stops. That’s not the face of someone who is on the same page I’m on. Even logic tells me that the man who just had his face buried between my legs surely likes me, at least to some degree. But the hesitation in his tone causes my blood to run cold. Even though I’m confident he likes me, it doesn’t sound like he wants to keep me.
He has said too many things that led me to believe otherwise, so I can’t quite swallow that. Hell, he expressed interest in me despite me being knocked up by someone else. He said that wouldn’t be an issue for him, commented on my breasts growing like he would be there to see it.
Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe that isn’t what his hesitation means. I don’t know how to ask, though. I’ve already put myself out there beyond what’s comfortable; the ball is sort of in his court now. I need something from him, but I have a sinking feeling I won’t get it.
There’s really no going back from here, is there? I can’t open my mouth and shove the words back inside. I can’t go on after asking to be his, knowing that’s not what he wants, and still be able to do the things I have done with him as recently as a few minutes ago.
If he shoots me down, that’s it. I don’t understand, I don’t know why, but if he doesn’t like me enough to date me when I like him enough to risk my whole world by staying here and seeing if we can build something together… well, that really tells me all I need to know, doesn’t it?
I despise the next words out of my mouth, but they spill out anyway. “Don’t you like me?” I ask it with a smile, hoping that will camouflage my vulnerability, but it only accentuates it.
His hand caresses my jawline, his eyes softening with something like regret. “Of course I like you, Laurel. You made me like you. But I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Well, I wasn’t supposed to like you either,” I tell him, stroking his arm as he caresses my face. “But here we are. I guess we’re just a couple of rebels. I say, let’s embrace it. Let’s run with it. I have a couple months to play with—school doesn’t start back until late August; that gives us plenty of time to see if this wears off. I love being with you. You haven’t even kissed me, and I’m already crazier about you than I’ve ever been about anyone. I know that’s a severely uncool thing to admit, but it’s true. I’m completely smitten. This is far from what I expected when I came here, but… I’m falling, Sin, and I only want you to catch me.”
My stomach hurts, but maybe your stomach is supposed to hurt when you go all-in.
Maybe it’s not the size of the bet that’s terrifying me, but the look on his face. There are no teammates in this game, only opponents. I made a wild bet on a few hastily drawn cards, but dammit, I have faith in them. I have faith in him. I have this strong feeling that I can have something magical with him, something I’ll never have with anyone else…
Only, right now, I’m not getting the feeling he wants the same thing. His hand drops from my jawline, easing around to cradle my head as he smoothly pulls me into his arms. This could be a safe place—in fact, it is, when Rafe does
it—but safe is the last thing I feel right now. This feels like comfort, like soothing, like an apology without all the noise. Leave it to Sin to apologize without a single word right before he breaks my heart.
“You’re not for me, Laurel.”
“I can be,” I insist.
He pulls me back so he can look down at me, but the sympathy on his face is horrible. “You’re so young.”
“Don’t do that. You’re seven years older than me. That’s nothing.”
“I don’t mean in years,” he says, simply. “Your heart is still tender and impressionable. You’re still capable of thinking you’ve fallen in love in just a few days.”
He’s said a lot of mean shit to me since we met, but nothing as mean as that. I want to stop him. I want to ask him not to do this, not to push me away, not to take a wrecking ball to all the feelings I’ve already grown around him, but I know it’s too late. I can already see the ball swinging; I know we’re only moments from demolition, and I’m already living inside a memory.
One more experience I don’t get to keep.
I want to blame the pregnancy for tears that well up in my eyes, but I think they would fall either way.
“I don’t want to make you cry,” he says, but in the way that conveys he knows he will. As sure as the sun will rise in the morning, Sin is going to hurt me right now.
“If I couldn’t be for you, why do any of this?” I demand. “Why would you toy with me if you had no interest in seeing it through? I’m not being crazy. You’ve said things to me…”
He pushes himself up in the bed so he’s sitting instead of lying here with me. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. I didn’t think… I mean, it was only a few days. None of this should have happened. It wasn’t my intention.”
