Sin, page 12
London startles at the move, shooting up from the bed while trying to remove my arm from around her. “Don’t touch me, Alton,” she whimpers, and my heart breaks. My entire being freezes as her fear rocks the both of us.
She needs me. Those words are the sole reason I stay in this bed instead of heading out once more to hunt her pig of a brother down. To dismember her father.
“Twirl, it’s me,” I croon low, flipping her onto her back so she can see my face. However, her eyes remain closed as a tear slips down her cheek. Her bottom lip trembles. “Please, open those gorgeous blues and look at me.”
“Malcolm?”
“I’m here.”
Her small body stills and after a few deep breaths, she meets my stare. A heavy sigh—relief settles in as she realizes that she’s not at home. That she’s safe. “How?”
“You okay now, sweetheart?”
She nods, but then her brows furrow. “What are you doing here?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Keeping my tone soft, I lay beside her but keep an arm around her midsection. Nothing inappropriate, just letting her feel me. Get used to my touch.
“Telling Alton I was heading to bed after he…” Trailing off, Twirl brings a hand up to touch her neck—grimacing at the tender flesh there. That’s also when I see the angry lines down her arm, the hint of blood near the edge of broken skin.
My eyes move back to hers. If I see those marks again… “What did he do?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” She shakes her head, eyes pleading me to drop it. London opens her mouth a few times and then closes it while her eyes survey the room. “How did you know where I…did Mariah call you? Because she appeared out of thin air, telling everyone we had an appointment with a designer that I never agreed to. She all but pushed me into the shower, gave me fifteen minutes to change, and I don’t remember much after that.”
Her rambling is adorable.
“That was all me.” With my forefinger, I run soothing circles over her stomach. “I sent her.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust those assholes, and I was right.” I’m not telling her about the small listening device or the men that have been watching. Not yet. Because there is a small part of me that needs to deal with the guilt I feel for being late. “Wish she would’ve gotten there sooner. That I drove you home instead of letting you go alone after breakfast. I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Turning to face me on her side, she cups my jaw while her thumb sweeps across my skin. “None of this falls on you. Please believe me.”
“But it does.” Nuzzling her palm, I turn my face and kiss the center. “You can’t change my mind on that.”
“Agree to disagree for now…” she shrugs “…I guess.”
“You’re cute.”
“You’re handsome,” she counters, and a ghost of a smile curls up at the corner of her mouth. “Still doesn’t explain why I have a half-naked man trying to seduce me? Or how you got into my room without me hearing you.”
“Afraid I’m going to bite?”
“Not one bit, but that doesn’t answer the question.”
“Through the door for that last part.” I let out a low chuckle at her glare. Can’t help myself and I lean forward to nip her chin. “And for your information, this is my home. I told her to bring you here. To me.”
“Why?” Her body stiffens for a second, head shaking. “I’m not ready to have sex,” she blurts out, “It’s too soon and contrary to what happened last night I’m—”
“We need sleep, London.” Pressing my forehead to hers, I stare into her eyes. Let her see the truth in my words. “I brought you here so we can rest without anyone interrupting. Just rest.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Just sleep.” I lay back to prove my point.
“Thank you.” Two simple words, but they hold so much weight behind them. So much gratitude as she settles once more, and of her own accord moves closer, settling next to me with her head on my chest. She melts into my gentle touch, each stroke of my fingers up and down her side, soothing figure eights that soon have her closing her eyes, a serene look on her face. “Can we talk some more later?”
“Anything you want.”
“A girl can get used to this.”
Kissing the crown of her head, I let my own eyes close. “Sleep now, Twirl. I’ve got you.”
That’s my last thought as sleep takes me under; I’ve got you.
I’m never letting her go.
17
Five years ago…
“YOU’VE GROWN UP so fast, Lola,” Mom says out of nowhere, startling me.
“Quit sneaking up on me, old woman!” I shriek, a high-pitched sound that only teenage girls can reach, and it makes her laugh. Me, not so much as my heart tries to beat right out of my chest. “Or do I need to buy you one of those bracelets with the tinkling charms? Maybe a cowbell?”
“Brat.” Still smiling, she shakes her head. Yet those blue eyes continue to appraise me.
“You suck.” Moving away from the vanity, I grab my phone and close it before she sees the beauty website I’m looking at. Or worse, reads the article giving advice on something she has no business knowing.
“And you’re spending far too many hours looking at yourself in the mirror, young lady. What gives?” Walking inside, she follows me until we reach my bed. Sits next to me when I refuse to answer. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Not really. Nope.” That’s my first mistake. You never answer too quickly. “Everything is fine, I swear. Was just looking at a new braiding technique I want to try out.”
“Cool…” Mom sweeps her long brown curls over her right shoulder “…let me see. I’m always looking for ideas.”
She’s not buying it.
Crap.
Double crap.
“How about we do this later? I’m supposed to meet Kristine—”
“What’s his name and age, London.”
“What are you talking about?” Avoidance is key in this situation. Last thing I need is for her to tell Dad, who will tell Alton, and then I am left to deal with his wrath. He hates all of my friends—forbids me from ever dating anyone. “It’s just a simple hairstyle.”
Mom purses her lips. “And I was born yesterday.”
“More like a hundred years, but…”
“Funny.” Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she pulls us back so we’re lying down with our legs over the edge of the mattress. For a few minutes we stay silent, just looking up toward the ceiling, when she lets out a long and tired sigh. “I’ve let that crap with your brother go on for far too long. I’ve always chalked up your bickering to sibling antics and paid no mind because once he got older, his attention would shift. Marcus says it’s nothing when I bring it up, that with age he’ll stop picking on you, but you’re hiding things from me because you’re worried—”
“I’m not, Mom. I swear.”
“Then tell me what’s going on? Why the sudden swoony smiles when you get a text or—”
“His name is Santiago, and he moved here from Spain a month ago,” I whisper while my face heats up, eyes refusing to meet hers. “He’s cute and all the girls are crushing hard. We’ve never spoken until last week when he invited me to sit with him at lunch. That’s it.”
“And…”
Turning my head, I scrunch up my nose. “And what? Not following.”
“Child, I swear to God.” Mom mutters something under her breath that I don’t hear before grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “Did you have lunch with him or not?”
“Once. Yeah.”
“Did you have fun?”
“He’s pretty awesome.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” she deadpans; the look she’s giving me all knowing. Aware of my worry when it comes to Dad saying I’m too young to date and Alton being an even bigger jerk. “One day, baby, a man is going to come into your life and sweep you off your feet. He will become the center of your world, as you will be his. Don’t hold back because of fear or what someone will say. When that moment comes, years from now, you promise me to hold onto it with both hands and never let go. Savor each moment you have together because tomorrow is never promised.”
“Mom, I’m only fifteen and it was just lunch. Not that serious.”
“I’m not talking about today, Lola. But one day it will happen…trust me.”
Present…
“…hold onto it with both hands and never let go. Savor each moment you have together because tomorrow is never promised.”
I awake with a start, but don’t move. Her words come back, and I can’t help but question if this is what she was talking about. Is Malcolm my person?
However, that question will have to wait since I notice something else…
There’s a weight against my back, yet it’s not crushing.
A warmth surrounding me, yet it’s comforting.
I’ve never slept so at peace. Happily. Completely letting my guard down with not a single bit of fear over what could happen when my defenses are down. No one here is going to harm me.
I know this, Malcolm showing me as much with every single one of his actions.
His respect for me. For not taking advantage of me.
For once, that little voice deep inside that always warns and keeps me alert is silent. Resting. Free.
“Feel so good,” his sleep-roughened voice murmurs, arm pulling me tighter to his chest. I don’t know how long we’ve been like this, but the proof that we haven’t moved much is in the position we still lie in—my back to his front with his arm beneath my head. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good.” More than, and I almost say this when a human need presents itself. My bladder is full and unwilling to wait, so I push his arm up and squirm to the edge of the bed, when he tugs me back.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Bathroom,” I say, turning to look at him from over my shoulder. “Point me in the direction, and I’ll be back in three minutes.”
“Can I count you down?” Another tug and I’m face to face, lips an inch apart at the most. “Do I win something if you take longer than that? I think I should.”
“Aren’t you playful in the…what time is it?” The way he stares at me causes my face to heat up.
“Who cares, and only with you.” His lips ghost mine, soft little pecks that melt me in place. “The door right across from us and hurry up. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“You can cook?” This surprises me, and it also doesn’t stop me from stealing one more kiss before I pull back and slide off the bed. I don’t pause to look back at him until I am on my feet and a few inches away, out of reach. “Or are you going to ask Magda to whip something up while you take the credit.”
“Being sassy looks good on you.” Malcolm scratches his bare chest, a move I follow. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”
“That’s my line.” Where these bold replies are coming from, I have no clue, but I like how freeing it is to be around him. How I don’t feel like I have to walk on eggshells around him.
Malcolm is powerful, and yet I am not intimidated. Never have been.
With me he is different, and I like it.
“First of all, the bathroom is right behind you,” he drawls, eyes roaming my body and pausing at the two hard tips I’m trying to ignore. The second I slid off his bed, I realized that my thin lace bra hid nothing. That the cool air over my skin while a hot guy—he looks at me—is a very bad combination for my modesty. “And second, Magda has the rest of the weekend off. It’s just us here and I want to keep it that way.”
“Just us?”
He sits up, abs tensing as he holds himself up with one hand. “Problem with that, Twirl?”
I swallow hard. “No. None at the moment.”
“Good.” Malcolm scratches his jaw. Same jaw that has the most mouthwatering five o’clock shadow I’ve ever seen on a man. It makes me want to lick him. “Now hurry up before I pick you up and steal a sample of the sweetness between your thighs.”
Those words don’t register at first, but when they do, I turn around and all but run into the bathroom. Lock the door as his laughter follows me inside and my cheeks heat up. It’s not the first time he’s implied this. Making me his.
Voicing what I know he wants, and I’ll be the biggest hypocrite if I deny wanting it too.
Because I do. I want more. So much more.
However, at the moment it isn’t right. There’s something I want from him first.
He’s earning my trust.
“Girl, get it together,” I whisper, looking at my expression in the mirror of his vanity. What I see staring back at me in the mirror is surprising; I’m smiling, and my eyes are bright—cheeks flushing because of his words and the truth behind them. Because for the first time in a long time, someone cares.
I’m not one hundred percent ready, but the same want is there chipping away at my fear.
With him, I’m not afraid or focusing on the finger-size purplish marks my brothers left on my skin. I’m not obsessing over the way Alton let Brittany treat me—the broken skin she left behind when she dug her nails into my skin. Malcolm doesn’t feel like the stranger he is for all intents and purposes, and while the man isn’t shy about voicing his wants, his actions are showing me he also cares.
It’s because of him that Alton wasn’t able to do more damage.
He’s making me want to stay.
Shaking the thought from my mind and the dangerous road it will travel down, I begin to disrobe, dropping the pajama set Mariah shoved into my hands as soon as I set foot inside this home. They were new, with a tag, and in my size. Made me suspicious, but exhaustion made me compliant and I changed out of my clothes.
The light blue romper set with flowers and my tan sandals are somewhere in his room. At least, I hope, because his wall-to-wall shower looks so inviting and I plan to relax for a few minutes inside.
The bathroom is spacious and white. Every surface, even the décor is white—expensive, with subway tiles throughout and a very spacious custom claw-foot tub.
It’s modern and clean. Beautiful.
Too much for a single man.
Its showerhead system reminds me of the one Alton has in his shower at home. Not as fancy, and I know which knobs to turn. Three separate heads come to life at once, and the bathroom fills with steam pretty quickly.
It’s an open concept with just a half wall of glass at the end where the water pours from, and I step inside. The hot water feels amazing on my tired body. A moan passes my lips when I turn around, giving the jets on the wall beside the nozzle my back. Tension drains, and yet there’s a new kind of energy buzzing around me.
More so when I grab his shampoo to wash my hair. His scent, so masculine and all him, surrounds me. Embeds itself into each one of my pores as I wash off. Massage the lather into my hair and then let it run down my body; a gentle caress that only heightens my need to have his hands on me once more.
I want him to win me over.
Grabbing a bottle of conditioner from the same brand, I pour some into my hair and let it sit while I lather the rest of me. Touching myself inside his shower creates images of us. Where it isn’t my hands but his, where he’s whispering filthy things in my ear as I shatter in his arms.
The first swipe of a finger over my clit sends a shock wave of pleasure through my body so strong that my knees shake. Every muscle contracts, and on the second, I rub harder, tiny little circles over my trembling bundle as my walls pulsate and throb.
I’m so close, and I’ve barely touched myself.
This is all over him. His face and voice.
An image of him pushing me up against this very wall with a leg over his hip.
My fingers travel lower and to my opening. I’m wet, and it has nothing to do with the water pouring down my sensitive skin. Circling my entrance, I slip a single digit inside to the second knuckle.
“Fuck,” I whimper, body almost shaking from the need to find a release. Slowly, I push my finger in and out of my tight hole. Four pumps, and then I push a little more, adding a second. Walls locking down, I press the palm of my hand against my clit and shatter. Come apart with a silent scream and panting breaths.
It’s the most I’ve ever done sexually.
At home, I’ve never felt comfortable enough to explore. Always afraid of Alton finding me.
Or worse, wanting to touch me.
But here, I let go and as I slide to the cool tile floors, I find myself smiling. Body limp and at ease.
What this man does to me. What I know I’ll let him do in the future causes another rush of pleasure to zip through me and I close my eyes—focus on my breathing when I hear his voice coming closer. Calling something out to someone five seconds before his hand knocks on the door.
“Did you finish, Twirl?”
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out, and the door handle jiggles.
“Babe, can I come in?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Scrambling to my knees, I rinse the evidence of my private desires and shut the water off. “Give me ten…just need to get dressed—”
“I’ll gift you twenty. Your outfit is on my bed.”
“Okay.” Grabbing a fluffy white towel, I wrap it around myself and open the door. “Can you pass me my clothes?”
His throat bobs harshly as he swallows. “I am completely fucked when it comes to you, and I’ll never complain over it.” Malcolm turns then and walks back to the door, almost crosses it when he pauses at the threshold to look me up and down once more from over his shoulder. “You are simply mouthwatering, sweetheart. Makes me hate my parents for interrupting the quiet morning I had planned for us. I don’t want to share you with anyone, not even them.”
“Your what?” His words make my heart beat fast and palms sweat, but his parents being downstairs is going to cause me to pass out. “Repeat, please.”
“My parents, Ms. Foster. Hurry up…” he licks his bottom lip, eyes on my bare legs “…I want them to meet you and then leave. In and out. I don’t think I can handle more than a thirty-minute visit right now.”
