Sinful (Undone)

by Jennifer Dawson

  Ironically, the only thing I lacked was an art background, a minor wouldn’t quite cut it in the art world. But that wasn’t really an obstacle. I had a transient job with flexible hours, and because Gwen’s restaurant was one of the most popular in the city, I made a pretty decent wage.

  There was no reason I couldn’t go back to school. My parents are big believers in education, so they’d help me out, and I could get loans if necessary. I’d get a master’s degree in art history.

  The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I could look at art all day long. I could talk about art all day long. I could find masterpieces good homes. I know I can do this.

  I pick up my phone. I’d intended to call my mom, but before I could process what I was doing I pushed Leo’s name instead.

  He answers on the second ring. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting up?”

  I laugh. “Of course not, I’ve already started on my quest for world domination.”

  “Oh really? Do tell.”

  I stop for a second to marvel at how easy this is with him. How it had only been a few days but he already feels like he’s a part of me. My person I’m supposed to tell everything to. “Well, I walked around the city for a while, then came home and decided on a brand-new career.”

  Now it’s his turn to laugh. “So you’ve been really lazing around, have you?”

  “Totally.”

  “Well, girl, tell me what are you going to do with your life?”

  “I’m going to go back and get my master’s degree in art history, and then I’m going to become an art dealer.”

  There’s a moment of silence over the line, where I hold my breath, suddenly tense. Half of me expects him to laugh and tell me how impractical I am, per usual.

  Finally, he says, “Actually, Jilly, that’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea.”

  I beam. See, this is why Leo is the best. “I know, right?”

  “It’s perfect for you.”

  “So, I’ve already investigated four programs, but I’m going to shoot for Northwestern or University of Chicago. I know I can get recommendations from alumni with my dad, which gives me a much better shot at getting in. I start a GRE prep course in two weeks and signed up for the exam in two months. It’s a little tight, but I want to make the admissions cut off for next year.”

  “Christ, woman. I leave you alone for a couple of hours and look what happens. I’m proud of you.”

  I blink at his response. “You’re not going to tell me to slow down?”

  “Why would I do that?” He sounds genuinely confused.

  “Because I’m impulsive? And think with my heart instead of my head?”

  Three beats pass before he speaks. “You are all those things, and they are the best things about you. I have no desire to slow down a moving train. I told you before I think this is something you should be doing.”

  “What if I lose interest?” Even he said I’m prone to flights of fancy.

  “You’ve loved art your whole life, I don’t think that’s possible. But even if you decide it’s not for you, something else in art is for you, so this path can only help you, right?”

  “That’s what I think too.” In that moment it sinks in, really sinks in for the first time. Leo gets me. Gets me in a way no one else in my life did. He understands the way my mind works, but instead of trying to reel me in and protect me from dumb mistakes, or my impetuous nature, he encourages me. Because he’s right, even if this doesn’t work out, art is my love and I need to start traveling down this path.

  My heart swells with emotion. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His voice fills with a dark rasp.

  I drop my own voice. “I’ll have to get on my knees and suck your cock to show my appreciation.”

  He groans and I can see him sitting at his desk, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “You’re creative, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  He draws in a breath. “Tonight, if I don’t get called in, I’m going to do filthy things to you.”

  I shiver, my body already perking up at the prospect. “Promises, promises.”

  “Goodbye, Jillian.”

  “I hope to have my lips wrapped around you later.” I practically purr the words.

  He hangs up on a groan.

  I hang up completely satisfied.

  Unfortunately, luck was not on my side. Leo did get called to a scene and would probably be there until at least two in the morning. He’d already texted me to tell me he probably wouldn’t be able to get to me tonight.

  Sadly, I was already climbing the walls. I’d been on an adrenaline rush all day and couldn’t come down. I’d also been priming myself, thinking about seeing him, that dark look in his eyes, his stern jaw.

  I’d thought about his cock in my mouth, sliding over my lips and tongue.

  I thought about the way he moved inside me, as though he couldn’t get enough of me.

  The things he whispered in my ear about how tight and wet my pussy was.

  How I was his.

  The low growl when he came.

  The way he fucked me, so hard and deep.

  I bound up off the couch and start weaving a path through the room.

  Heather, sitting peacefully, wearing her serene ballerina expression, says, “Oh my god, what is wrong with you?”

  “I’m restless.” She’ll think I’m totally pathetic if I admit I am so hung up on Leo I don’t think I can last the night without him being inside me.

  One blonde brow rises. “Didn’t you have sex like a hundred times in the last couple of days?”

  “Well, that’s an exaggeration. But it’s been a lot.”

  “So what is the problem? I had sex on Sunday morning and I’m totally content.”

  That’s because her boyfriend is boring as hell. Her boyfriend also doesn’t make her call him if she wants to slip her fingers down her panties and come to take the edge of. Of course, I can’t say this.

  Instead, I shrug. “It must just be because it’s new.”

  “Derek and I are new and you don’t see me getting all crazy,” Heather pushes a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

  Derek and Leo aren’t even in the same league, but I don’t want to be insulting, so I ignore the statement all together and resume my pacing.

  “You’re making me nervous.” Heather pats the couch. “Come sit down and relax. Do you want to talk to me about Leo? Or your new career? It will help you unwind.”

  I’ve already talked to Gwen, my mom, my sister and Heather about my plans and they were all cautiously supportive but pointing out things “I should consider”. Strangely, because of Leo’s enthusiastic support and acceptance, I didn’t find it necessary to try and convince them to why this was great for me. They’d find out soon enough and my future success will be all the I-told-you-so I’d need.

  But I’d talked so much already, I’d kind of exhausted the topic, and all that was left is execution.

  Which leaves Leo, and my burning desire for him.

  And, well, I love Heather, but she’s kind of prissy and I can’t tell her the same things I tell Gwen, who’s always up for dirty details.

  I glance at the clock. It’s eleven. I think I’ll just hole up in my room and try and read a book or something. “I actually think I’m going to go to bed.”

  She smiles. “All right, I’ll be off in a bit too, I’ve got an early call tomorrow.”

  I go into the bathroom and through my nighttime routine, as though my nipples aren’t hard and my eyes aren’t glassy with lust. I slip on a nightgown and the cotton is like heaven and hell over my skin as I slide into bed.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m lying there, book tossed aside, covers twisted at the bottom of my legs. I’m literally squirming. He’ll never know if I give myself a quick orgasm. Never. If I could just come, I’d be able to sleep. And the faster I sleep, the faster I see him again.

  It’s the easie
st, and best, option, considering I’ve been going on and on about how I’ll never call. But, I don’t know, something in me just can’t do it.

  I made a promise, and I had to keep it. Besides, I’m convinced he’d somehow know, and then what would happen? Somehow I didn’t think it would be one of those delicious spankings.

  God, had anything ever felt so fantastic? I didn’t understand how something that hurt could feel so good. How I could want it to stop and long for it never to end. I had to quit thinking about this.

  But then my hands find my way to my breasts, and I stroke my nipples, keening at the pleasure.

  Fuck it.

  I don’t care. I want an orgasm. I can’t sleep like this.

  But I made a promise, so that only leaves one option.

  I pick up the phone and text him. Not one word…but…I can’t sleep…I need to sleep… And to sleep…well, I think I need to come.

  The ten minutes it takes him to respond feel like an eternity where I work myself up into a sexual frenzy of need. Is there a question somewhere in that text?

  Bastard. I’m too worked up to care about principles and stubbornness. He wants me to ask, fine, I’ll ask. It will be worth it. Please may I have an orgasm, Leo?

  There’s more waiting where I sit, glaring at my phone, feeling completely irrational that he’s not answering me right this second even though my logical mind reminds me he’s at some murder scene. And here I am sending him silly texts asking him for permission to have an orgasm.

  I don’t question why I’m doing this, or the depravity that has come over me. I’m just single minded in my focus.

  Finally, my phone beeps. Yes, you may.

  My heart beats wildly in my chest and I’m so ridiculously happy I can only laugh at myself.

  My phone beeps again. But after I want you to send me a video saying good night.

  Deal.

  I toss my phone to my nightstand and I swear to god, my fingers barely brush over my clit and I’m coming, hard and fast, and with such force I bury my head in the pillow to keep from screaming with the pleasure. After, as I lay panting, I come face-to-face with the truth.

  Leo has turned me into a monster.

  It didn’t even take the edge off.

  All I want is more.

  I turn toward my nightstand, roll over and prop up my phone against my lamp. As crazy as it is, I’m going to ask again, so I’d better make it good. I’m past caring how this looks. Past caring what a big deal I made about how I’d never ask, and didn’t need to. I don’t care anymore.

  The more time goes on, the more I’m coming to the realization that I like this. That Leo controlling me in this way makes things better, more exciting.

  I position myself so I look totally casual. Propped up on my elbow, my hair is a wild tumble over my flushed shoulders, my cheeks are pink, my lips full and I let one strap of my nightgown hang low on my breast. The edge of the fabric held up by the catch of my hard nipple.

  I look pretty good. Sexy. Like I’m so ready to be fucked, which of course I am, but since that’s not possible I have to make do with what I have. I press record and smile into the phone. “So I’m here, saying good night.” I lean in, and flicking my tongue over my lips, dart my eyes innocently around the room. “But my plan backfired.” I give him a pout. “I’m still not tired. I miss you and I think I need more orgasms. May I?”

  I hit the button to stop the recording, and send it off.

  This time he answers within a couple of minutes. This might be the hottest video I’ve ever seen, made all the more so as it clearly took you no time at all to get off.

  I grin, leaning back on my headboard and stroking my nipples, pinching and pulling them the way he does, with bite and intent.

  My phone beeps again. But, no, you may not. Now be a good girl and get some sleep. L

  I bolt upright and stare at my phone. He said no. And now I’m burning with, what I pretend is outrage, but is really out-of-control desire. No?!?!?!

  Correct. My answer is no.

  WHY!?!?!

  Because I like you needy. Good night, Jillian.

  I scream. And pound out. I hate you!

  I know you do. Sleep well.

  I didn’t bother trying again. I know him. He won’t change his mind. I think about doing it anyway, but—argh—I can’t make myself.

  Eventually I fall asleep, still needy and desperate, plotting my revenge.

  Leo

  “Are you even listening?”

  I jerk my head from the window and look at Michael. “What?”

  Apparently, he’d been talking but I had no idea what he was saying because I’m thinking of Jillian. How she’d broken down and asked, her little good-night video where she’d looked flushed, her hair wild, her goddamn mouth full and pouty. The way she’d asked again. Her outrage that I’d said no.

  But mainly, how even though it was three in the morning, all I want is to see her.

  That, in this craziness between us, I’d turned just as wild and desperate as she had. How I don’t think I can go home without touching her. Without feeling her body under mine. Without sinking—

  “You’re doing it again.”

  I blink, having once again lost track of the conversation I’m supposed to be having with Michael, as we drive to the station so I can pick up my car. “What?”

  Michael shoots me a disgusted look. “You’re thinking about my sister, aren’t you?”

  My brows draw together. I cross my arms, and shrug. As though it’s not a big deal I can’t get her out of my head. The woman has consumed me, and I’m not going to lie, it’s uncomfortable as fuck.

  He pulls to a stop at a red light, and studies me. All the sudden his expression widens and he starts to laugh. “Wait a minute, I’ve just figured it out. This isn’t working things out of your system. You’ve actually got it bad for her.”

  Yeah, I’m pretty sure I have it bad for her. And I have no idea what I’m going to do about it, but I can’t stop, so I’m not going to. I raise a brow at Michael. “The light’s green.”

  He starts driving again, shaking his head. We fall into silence for about a mile before he sighs. “Neither of you is great with commitment.”

  “I know that.” Jillian and I are alike that way, albeit for different reasons. While I just plain don’t want to be attached to anyone, Jillian is more prone to flights of passion that burn out as quickly as they began.

  I frown. For the first time thinking about how that personality trait might apply to me. Now that she has me, it’s quite possible the reality won’t live up to the fantasy, and she’ll grow bored.

  I think about her calling me this afternoon, brimming with excitement about becoming an art dealer. All the plans she’d thrown herself into the second she latched on to the idea. The expectation that I’d try and talk her out of it because that’s what everyone did to curb her impetuous nature. Her delight I hadn’t. That I’d accepted her for who she is.

  I’d meant what I said. I did think going back to school was a good thing for her. It got her immersed in the world she loved, headed in a direction that gave her a future instead of drifting along, but it was quite possible she’d change her mind about her future career plans. That she’d become bored once she learned too much and change directions once again.

  Would the same happen to us once she learned too much? Would this inferno raging between us flame out? I experience a beat of panic.

  I shake my head. I don’t want to think about this. All that mattered was I had her now, and after all this time I could finally touch her whenever I wanted.

  I didn’t want to waste it, waste her.

  Things would settle. This need I felt for her was merely because I was no longer forced to deny my attraction.

  That was it.

  I thought of her, sleeping in her bed, and knew I was going to go to her. That I wouldn’t be able to help myself.

  Michael pulls into the station and I dig my keys from my pocke
t before he even pulls to a stop.

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” I say, opening the car and vaulting out before he says anything else.

  Then I’m sprinting to my car, and pulling out my phone. Yes, I’m calling her in the middle of the night, but this is Jillian and she won’t care.

  I slam my door shut, and start the engine as she answers in a sleepy voice, “Leo?”

  “Can I come over?” My words are a bit too hurried.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks, sounding wide awake.

  “Everything is fine. I just need to fuck you.” I grit my teeth and pull out of the spot, my mind already on burying myself into her body.

  She gasps. “Text me when you get here so we don’t wake Heather.”

  Christ I forgot about her roommate. I want her at my house, where I take her as loud and mean as I want without having to worry about someone else. But even in my lust-filled state I recognize it’s unreasonable to ask her to drag herself out of bed to go to my house. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” she says, her voice a low purr that shoots straight to my balls and up my spine.

  “Are you still wearing the nightgown from the video?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you naked underneath?”

  “Yes.”

  I growl, and resist the urge to flick on the sirens so I can fly through the streets. “Did you keep your hands to yourself?”

  Her breathing kicks up. “Yes, you jerk.”

  “Good girl.”

  She moans. “Why do I like that so much?”

  “Because you want to please me. Because I own you.” It’s too soon to say these words, but they feel so right I can’t stop myself. I don’t know how long I’ll have her, but for the time being she’s mine.

  “Oh.” A quick intake of breath.

  My cock is so hard I can barely think. “Touch yourself until I get there, but do not come. I have no patience for soft.”

  “I already want you,” she whispers in a low, dark voice. “I’ve been like a crazy person.”

  “Me too, baby.” I shift, trying to get more comfortable. “I’ll be there soon.”