Make Me Shine (Six Silent Sins #1)

by Colt, Elodie

  “A shame I can’t see you in this,” I mumble as my hands explore her outfit, and the farther I travel, the more it twists my stomach in delicious knots.

  “That’s the thrill, isn’t it?”

  Thrill doesn’t even come close to the fireworks exploding in my groin as my fingers brush over her cleavage and the thick straps connecting the upper part with her neck in the form of a pentagram, pushing up her taut breasts.

  “I think it’s time for sharing another secret, what do you say?” I whisper into her hair, inhaling the slight undertone of gasoline beneath her addicting scent.

  “Is this our thing now?” Her smile is audible as her hands slide over my bare chest that clenches under her touch. “Revealing a secret every time we meet?”

  Every time we meet… As in, we’re going to meet a lot more times. I like how that sounds.

  “Yes,” I breathe over her neck.

  A corded corset with boning wraps around her slender form, and I splay my fingers to feel my way down a frill skirt, fishnet stockings, and… a devil’s tail. My grin is so wide, it nearly hurts my cheeks.

  “Hmm,” she hums, her fingers traveling down my stomach. “I love dragonflies. I keep them as pets.”

  I chuckle, lightly shaking my head. “How do you keep dragonflies as pets?”

  “You raise them in an aquarium and set them free when they’re grown up,” she says as if it’s the most natural thing.

  “Why dragonflies?” I press to keep her talking, my hand dropping to her ass where a silky bow completes her costume.

  Oh, wow. If this is my Halloween gift, I can’t wait for Christmas.

  “I don’t know. They’re beautiful,” she says with a shrug while I tug at the bow, nuzzling her neck. “When I was a kid, dragonflies used to land on me and stayed there for hours. It’s supposed to be good luck.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah…” she breathes, shuddering in my arms. “Your turn.”

  I brush my lips over hers, lingering there and inhaling her perfume with notes of citrus, passion fruit, and something oriental that smells like green tea. With a nudge, I guide her to turn around so I can finally unwrap my gift.

  “The number six haunts me ever since I’ve been born,” I confess as I tug at the cords on her back, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head until it clicks.

  “So, this is why you were so weird when I pointed out that only six percent were missing,” she says.

  Smart girl. She connected the dots quickly.

  “Yes.”

  I continue tugging at the cords, taking my time as I let them slide from the holes.

  “Is six your lucky number or something?”

  Chuckling, I lick a path up to her ear. “Mostly my unlucky number.”

  “But six is a good number,” she argues to my surprise, and I smirk.

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Well, first, God created the world in six days,” she explains, and my lips play with her earlobe while I soak up every word coming from her luscious lips. “Second, it’s the number of luck because it’s the highest on the dice.”

  “And third?” I press when it becomes clear that she isn’t finished yet.

  “And third,” she repeats, “snowflakes have six-fold symmetry.”

  I laugh, propping my chin on her shoulder. “Do you like snowflakes?”

  “I love snow,” she says. “In Russia, we had these blizzards that— I-I mean… Shit.”

  She curses when it dawns on her what she just revealed, and I can’t help my evil grin. Gotcha.

  “You know…” I twist her around, hauling her back to me so we’re face-to-face again. “Six is also the number of the devil.”

  She hooks a finger into the waistband of my boxers and slides them down, clearly making a point about who’s going to be naked first.

  “Then I’ve chosen the perfect outfit for tonight,” she purrs, rising up to her toes so her lips hover over mine.

  I grab her nape, and the breath hitches in her throat as she waits for me to finally bestow a kiss on her. Instead, I bend my knees a little to move my hand in between her legs and catch her tail, using it to rub it along her center.

  A low groan passes her lips, and my cock salutes in anticipation, slapping against her belly. Enough foreplay, he practically shouts, and my control vaporizes in the darkness.

  Too impatient to get her out of that dress, I push her onto the bed. She yelps, but I don’t give her time to scramble up, dropping to my knees and yanking her closer.

  “Ross,” she whines in a voice that is a mixture of a question and a plea.

  Without forewarning, I push up her skirt, wrench her legs apart, and take my first long lick, starting from below her entry and sliding up to her clit. A curse flutters over her lips, and the low rustling tells me she’s clawing her fingers into the silky sheets.

  “Fuck, you taste so good,” I mutter. My tongue wriggles down again to force her lips apart, diving right in to savor her sweet juices.

  Her hips jerk up at the sensation, and I grin, burying my hands into her butt cheeks to press her against my mouth. Jesus, that girl has an ass like Jessica Alba, and the feeling of her taut cheeks makes me groan.

  I hear a whack, and I glance up from under my lashes to see that Devon has slapped a hand over her mouth. The wetness gathering on my tongue signals she’s close. I wish I could yank her hand away, but I can’t reach it, so I let her have it her way for now. With one last, powerful suck on her clit, I tip her over the edge, and she thrashes from the sweet agony, uttering a muffled groan.

  Waiting until she goes slack, I scoot up and tear her dress down, something that turns out to be a feat with Devon still fighting the aftermath of her orgasm.

  Once the material is out of my way, I lay down on top of her and grapple one breast so hard, she shrieks, the sharp sound morphing into a hiss the moment I sink my teeth into her neck.

  I quickly fetch a condom from the box. This time, we don’t share any jokes, the raw, sexual energy humming through the space too thick.

  “Time for your daily yoga exercises,” I growl into her ear as I roll up the rubber, and then hook her legs over my shoulders.

  Jeez, that girl is as lithe as an acrobat, and my mind conjures an image of all the sex positions I could try with her. But for now, I’m satisfied with my little devil sprawled out underneath me, hot and wet and ready for me to fuck the hell out of her.

  “Ross…” she murmurs again, but this time, her voice is thick with desire.

  I hate that name coming from her lips as much as I love it, knowing it’s the only name she will ever know, and the sudden irritation I feel makes me push into her in one, unrelenting thrust.

  Her hands shoot out to claw at my back, anchoring herself to me. Her mouth pops open as she sucks in a breath, and I claim her mouth with such passion, I feel an almost painful stab in my chest.

  “Talk to me, Devon,” I command, and she trembles as my order prickles down her back.

  “W-why?” she chokes, clearly lost in her own little universe as I thrust into her once more.

  “Because I get off on your sexy voice.” I keep one hand on the back of her thigh where the fish-net stockings dig into her flesh. “Because I want to hear the sound you make when I finally destroy your willpower.”

  She doesn’t utter a word. I snatch her chin and dig in my fingers, making sure her mouth stays open so no sound escapes my ears.

  The angle allows me to go in so fucking deep, there’s no way she can endure my onslaught in silence, and soon, she graces me with a grunt, one that vibrates right down to my tip. I keep my movements slow but forceful, eager to hit her core.

  “Sing for me, Devon,” I gnarl in near desperation. “Give me a fucking scream.”

  As soon as the last word is out, her walls clench around me, and a loud, throaty wail wrenches from her lips, one that makes me shoot my load on the spot. I press my eyes shut, letting the sound wash over me and branding it
into my mind. Fuck, how I wish I could see her face right now, all contorted and tormented. In an attempt to swallow the sound, I bite into her lower lip, sucking until her breath whooshes out in a sharp huff.

  “I knew you were a screamer after all,” I say, unable to hide my cheeky undertone.

  Devon snickers. “Why, did I hurt your pride last time, Ross?”

  “A little,” I confess, letting her legs slide down my shoulders.

  “I didn’t—ow!”

  I jerk up in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbles, but I can tell she’s in pain, and my hand moves to where hers presses onto her knee. My fingers brush over her skin, and I feel wet smears.

  “You’re bleeding,” I mutter when a hiss escapes her. “Shit, I’m so sorry…”

  “It wasn’t you,” she assures me. “I gashed my knee last week.”

  I huff in relief, brushing my hand over her skin again, gentler this time. “Why did you wear those stockings then? They cut right into your skin.”

  She shrugs, and before I can give her space, she grabs my necklace and pulls me down once more, demanding a feverish kiss. My dick hardens the longer the kiss lasts, but our time is almost up, and the thought is nothing short of a disappointment.

  “Next time you’re hurt, or I hurt you in any way, you tell me right away,” I say in a firm tone. “I can’t see if you’re injured, and I don’t want you to endure any pain just for my sake. Understood?” I wait until she nods. “And if I’m too rough—”

  She clamps a hand over my mouth. “Stop talking.”

  And with that, she dismisses my words, our lips colliding once more. I love how eager she suddenly is to connect with me considering I was barely allowed to touch her the first time.

  Too soon, our timers announce the end of our second date, and I lend her a hand to help her up.

  She stands and then pats around on the bed.

  “Uhm, any idea where my dress is?” she asks.

  “Here.” I bend down to pick it up when a thought occurs to me. “But I’m going to keep it.”

  She giggles. “It might be a tad too small for you, but hey, be my guest.”

  I slap her ass in response, the sound loud and clear in this fluffy space, and she yelps.

  “Save that sass for next time, Devon.”

  I kiss her goodbye and watch as the door closes behind her, the lights going on in the changing room and allowing me a last glimpse of her beautiful silhouette.

  ~~~

  “I take it you’re still happy with your match?” Carl asks over the phone while I enjoy a glass of Single Malt on my balcony later that night. It’s cold as fuck, but I need the fresh air to cool me down.

  And to blow that stupid grin off my face.

  “I am.”

  Over the moon, actually, and I can’t say if that’s a good thing or not.

  “Good. How was your second date with her?”

  With my gaze swerving over the Manhattan night skyline, I take a sip of my whiskey and prop my elbows on the railing.

  “Carl, just because we’ve shared a few bottles of beer in the past doesn’t mean I’m going to share my love life with you.”

  Devon is my dirty, little secret. My silent sin.

  Carl chuckles. “Actually, I wanted to ask if you’d like to meet someone else.”

  I frown. “Who?”

  “Your second-best match. Sydney.”

  His question takes me off guard, and I straighten. To be honest, I haven’t even wasted a thought on the other matches on my list.

  “Why would I want to meet someone else who’s just the second-best match?”

  I can hear Carl rubbing a hand over his stubble. “Facebook’s algorithm has nothing on eNtimacy’s, but the results are still just numbers. We can’t look into your brain, we can’t regulate your hormones, and we definitely can’t control your heart.”

  I purse my lips, taking a moment to contemplate this.

  “I’m just saying that you have more than one option, Nathan,” he says. “That doesn’t mean you have to go any further than you’re comfortable with. Just another meeting, that’s it.”

  I scratch a spot on my head, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

  “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Carl.”

  I end the call and walk back inside, my feet dragging me to the sofa. Plopping down, I pick up the costume Devon wore tonight—fire-red sequins with black accents all the way down. Lifting the material up to my nose, I inhale deeply, visualizing a pale beauty with wild hair and dark eyes.

  My smile is gone now, my elation diminished.

  What Devon and I have, what we have become ever since we exchanged our first words, is beyond belief. I’ve never been graced with so much as a glimpse of her, and yet I feel as if I know her better than anyone.

  And still…

  What we share, we will never share in reality. The concept of ‘us’ only exists in The Room. A fantasy you can live and breathe and feel for as long as you want, but a fantasy nonetheless.

  ‘I thought that was what Silent Sins is,’ she said. ‘Evading questions. Concealing your identity. Leading the other on a merry chase.’

  And she’s right, but it’s just too easy to forget. Too easy to lose yourself in this dream world. Too easy to fall for the illusion.

  It will only ever be a silent sin.

  So, why the hell does the thought of dating someone else feel like a betrayal?

  “Did you even listen to what I said?” Brooke’s sharp tone demands my attention, and I sigh.

  Tearing my gaze away from the sixth nook in my office, I turn around to face her.

  “You want to partner with Gallery 47 to merge our booths at the Pier Antique’s Show in New York next year,” I repeat her words to diffuse the bomb that was sure to explode, but her glassy stare tells me I’ve missed a good chunk of her speech.

  “Thanks so much for your input, Nathan,” she huffs in a sardonic tone. Grabbing the stack of catalogs from the table, she launches out of her chair and struts out, shutting the door with a bang.

  I put two fingers on the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. I know I’m giving Brooke a run for her money, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck about this stupid show and how much she wants to shell out just to make our booth the biggest and the prettiest.

  Toying with my pendant, I turn around again to study the Buccellati ring Nick put into the sixth nook to fill the void. It doesn’t belong there. It feels… wrong. Just like the fact that I’m going to meet Sydney tonight. Even the weather is a bad omen with the angry clouds blanketing the sky, and the heavy rain lashing against the glass.

  The cords in my neck twang, and I rub them to ease the tension, trying to convince myself that my pessimism is unwarranted. Silent Sins is supposed to be fun. A temporary distraction. And who’s to say that Sydney isn’t worth my time? Just because the numbers say she’s not the best match? Just because I trust an algorithm to dictate my love life?

  Just because the difference between Devon’s and Sydney’s match ranking is exactly six percent?

  Fuck, this Silent Sins stuff is getting out of hand. As always, I let my doubts take root until my head is full of shit, so I give myself a pep talk on the way to Melrose and try to ignore the fact that we’re going to meet at the Everland Casino—one of the many playgrounds where Vincent lost a lot of money in the past. I make a mental note to tell Carl to cut out any casinos as potential locations for my future dates with Devon… Or with Sydney, or Toronto, or Indiana, or whoever else until I’ve weeded through all the continents!

  After this mental announcement, I feel somewhat clearer in my head, and I find myself in the changing room of the casino, adjusting my tie one last time before activating the door and slipping inside.

  The woman I’m supposed to meet is already here which is no surprise considering I’m five minutes late.

  “Hi,” Sydney greets me, and the glow of her bracelet moves with the hand she waves in my d
irection.

  And what happens next is astonishing, all because of a simple, fucking ‘Hi.’ Within the blink of an eye, my brain jots down a list of comparisons:

  First, Sydney is way more confident than Devon. Instead of gluing herself to the wall and waiting with bated breath until she’s close to passing out, she already took three steps into the room to greet me like the casual acquaintance I am.

  Second, Sydney’s voice is smooth and clear and at least an octave higher than Devon’s. Pleasant but way down on the intensity scale.

  Third, the smile in Sydney’s voice was audible, and the way she completed her greeting with a wave allows me the assumption that she’s a ray of sunshine, not a loaded storm cloud like Devon.

  And fourth, Sydney is at least three inches shorter than Devon which brings her to the same height as Aiko, and I immediately hate myself for bringing up the connotation.

  Give the girl a chance, dammit.

  “Hi,” I force over my lips after Sydney drops her hand, but it’s clear she’s waiting for me to initiate a conversation. “Uhm, is this your first time at Silent Sins?”

  A melodic laugh resounds. “No, uhm, actually, I’ve been a member for a few months now.”

  And my mental list goes on…

  Sydney is a regular member and forks out a few thousand per month for this program. Chances are she’s as wealthy as me, unlike Devon who gave herself away the moment she asked if I was rich. Also, the only accent she sports is a slightly southern twang. No rough vocals but all soft like a baby’s bum.

  “What about you?” she asks and takes a few steps closer.

  “I’m fairly new,” is my vague answer so she knows that she’s not my first Silent Sins date, either.

  “Uh, wanna share a drink?” She motions to the fridge.

  “Sure.”

  I walk over to the fridge and pull out the plastic champagne bottle with two cups. This time, I manage to fill them without ruining my suit, and when we clink classes, I can’t help but recall Devon’s full-blown laugh when I popped open the bottle only to spill half of it.

  “So, tell me something about you. Any hobbies?” I say to break the awkward silence, not oblivious to the fact that Sydney tries to invade my personal space to the point I can smell her expensive perfume—the type that is way too pricey for mass retail.