Sin, page 9
We both need this. To be close. To touch, and before she utters the next number, my lips are at her ear. Kissing the shell, nuzzling her fragrant skin. “Ten.”
“I knew you were here.” London’s skin breaks out in goose bumps, a tiny map of sensitive flesh that I nip as I follow the path down to her collarbones. Nipping her there, I soothe the sting with my tongue. “F-felt you.”
“Is that so?” I ask, wrapping my arm around her midsection. The stomach muscles clench beneath my hold as she gasps at the sudden movement. “Why do you think that is, Twirl? Why can you feel my presence?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.” At my words, London turns in my arms, eyes slightly narrowed. And fuck me if I don’t like this glimpse of fire. “Something you want to say, Ms. Foster? Any questions?”
“There is.”
Dipping down, I nip her bottom lip. “And?”
“Why am I different? Why are you doing all of this?” There it is. What’s eating her.
Curiosity is a bitch and one people don’t quite know how to tame. That inquisitiveness gets them into situations they have no business digging into. Or in this case, it will open a box she isn’t quite ready to receive.
The attraction is mutual. Our desires match evenly. However, the life she’s been given has created this defense mechanism she can’t help but hide behind. It’s easier for her.
“Are you sure you want the answer?”
“Yes.” The pleading in her eyes—the desperation in her voice dictates my next move. Before she can protest, I grab a thigh in each hand and lift her up, wrapping them tight around my waist. A small squeak escapes, but there’s no protest as I carry her back to my chair.
Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and holds tight. Presses her cheek to mine while her lips whisper something that’s too low to hear but end with dangerous.
Taking a seat on the wide chair, I tap the table and the bottom stand illuminates with a low light. There’s just enough room for her to straddle me comfortably, and I push her back a bit so I can focus on her flushing face. On the brightness in her eyes.
On every fucking question and doubt that I’ll erase—decimate in order to own this precious doll.
“This is better.” Not a question, a statement. Being close is right. The only way this talk will work.
“Agreed.” London moves her upper body back, but her hips stay just a few inches from my cock. So fucking close that I can feel her heat. Her thighs are exposed, the dress riding up just enough to give me a glimpse of her sweet, virginal pussy. “But my face is up here.”
There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, and I shrug. “Not going to apologize, Twirl. I find you utterly perfect.”
“You’re a smooth one, aren’t you?”
“I don’t lie.” Bringing both hands to her hips, I bring us flush while spreading my fingers wide over her lower back. She’s heat. Softness. Feels like the perfect sin, and I’ve yet to have a taste of her decadence. “With me, you will always know where we stand. What I am thinking. There will be no secrets between us.”
“Why do you keep saying there’s an ‘us’? I don’t know you.” As she says this, there’s a minute shift of her hips. It causes my cock to flex against her, to throb, while those cerulean eyes become heavy. “Tell me.”
“Ask me the right question,” I grit out, fighting my own desire to devour her.
London stares at me, swallowing hard as she finds the right words. And the moment she does, it’s a glorious sight. Her back straightens, the subtle shift pressing her core harshly against my girth while she licks her lips. I groan at the natural sensuality she displays, not holding back—wanting her to see just how much I desire her.
“Tell me, Malcolm.” Her hand, small and soft, cups my chin. “I need to know why I’m suddenly feeling as though my freedom is within reach.” London’s exhales are heavier, soft little pants over my lips. “Who are you? Why are you here for me?”
“You want to know why I always want you close?” My right hand leaves her hip, fingertips skimming up the center of her back until I reach her hair. Hair that I grab a fistful of so I can tilt her head back enough to lick a path from her neck to chin. “Why I can’t stop reaching out for you?”
“Yes,” she mewls out, hands moving down to my shoulders—grabbing onto me.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that answer, sweetheart? Because there’s no going back after I say the words.”
“Please. I need to understand.”
Nodding, I tighten my hold and appraise her. Rejoice in the mirrored hunger I see reflecting back at me. “What would you say, Ms. Foster, if I told you that I want to own your soul? That I want to make you mine. Tie you to me in every way a man can.”
A whooshing breath leaves her. “I’d say you are crazy and that we don’t know each other. My family isn’t going to allow this.”
“So, you have already said,” I hiss out when I feel her thighs clench.
“Because it’s the truth. My brother—”
“I’m more of a monster than prince charming,” I interject, putting a stop to that idiotic thought he’s put in her head, “but it doesn’t change our reality.”
“And what reality is that?” Another song begins, a heavier beat that pulses through the room. It sexy. Enticing. “You haven’t even asked me what I want yet.”
“Because I already know.” With my other hand, I grab onto and stop the slow roll of her hips. The unconscious dancing she’s been torturing me with. “You want out from beneath your family’s thumb, London. To feel safe again and freefall into this explosiveness between us.”
Her entire body freezes. “How do you know?”
“You’re running, and that stops here.” With a soft touch, I run soothing circles over her skin with the pad of my thumb.
“Still doesn’t explain how—”
“Sweetheart, there isn’t a single move made in this city that I’m not aware of. That doesn’t reach my ear.”
A slight flash of fear passes through her eyes then. “Then you know that…?”
“That your father and brother are scum? About the money they owe the Riveras back in Miami and their plans here?” My fingers dig a bit into her hip, but I release her before their imprint appear on her skin. I’ll never mark her out of anger, only pleasure. “Yes, I do. And mark my words, baby…they will pay.” For everything they’ve stolen from you.
“But how?” With her hands on my chest, she tries to stand but I hold firm. “Why are you doing this? I have a plan. My mind was made up.”
“Was being the operative word.” Bringing her face down to mine, I kiss those bee-stung lips with a bit of the manic hunger I possess. My tongue seeks hers out the moment she groans against my mouth, prying her slightly parted lips apart and taking what belongs to me.
She’s tentative in her own exploration, slowly running her hands up my chest and then neck, until she finds purchase at the nape. There, she embeds her slim fingers into my hair and tugs, creating a shooting rush of pleasurable pain that settles on the tip of my dick.
I flex against her, and she whimpers.
I press her down harder, and her thighs tremble.
I want to come all over her softness, but before that can happen, I’m going to gift her tonight.
Slowing the kiss down, I suck the bottom one between my teeth and bite down. “Tell me you want this? Admit it to yourself that you want me.”
Heavy-lidded eyes stare at me, so open and honest. “I do.”
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my lips to hers once more. “Twirl, I need you to know that I’m not a good man. That I have and will do things that you won’t agree with, but I promise you one thing…you will never fear me. The world might see my wrath, but you never will.”
“I don’t know why I believe you, Malcolm, but I do.”
“Good.” Grabbing her hips, I stand her up between my spread legs and sit back. Scratch the stubble on my chin as she squirms before me. “But enough with the heavy for now. We’ll come back to this another day.”
“Another day?”
“Yes, and we will finish this…” I give her a pointed look and she nods “…but right now I have a present for you.”
“A present? More than the phone and all the clothes you had delivered to me?” She’s baiting. Wanting me to admit my possessiveness.
“I’m not going to apologize for monopolizing your time here. You dance for me.” It’s not a request, and this girl just smiles. Not at all upset, which makes me happy. “But yes, I have a small token, just so you see how serious I am. That this is about more than getting between your thighs.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me?” The playful tinge to her tone makes me chuckle. London is more relaxed in this moment than I’ve seen her to date. Like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.
“Baby girl, my biggest wish is to impale you on my cock. To watch you choke on a scream as I split you in two.” Her mouth drops open and those soft cheeks flush. She’s not put off by my words; the way she shivers and comes closer is evidence enough. My girl likes a dirty mouth. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want you to choose. We do what you want.”
“What I want?”
“Anything and everything. Even if that means you walk out that door and go home to bed.”
13
WHAT I WANT?
What do I want?
It’s a question that no one ever asks me anymore. Well, not since Mom left this earth to find peace in heaven. I see now that she was the only one that cared for my well-being. The one that taught me to dream big and fight for my happiness.
It’s why I am trying so hard now. Why I’m willing to sell my body if it comes to that.
Things weren’t always the way they are now. I remember days of warmth and happiness. When money was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
But then she died, and so did the peace I had. Working here to find my freedom is all I have left. It’s my last promise to her memory.
However, looking into his green eyes, my metaphorical walls crumble. They don’t stand a single chance against his devilish grin with just the right amount of sweet that causes my thighs to clench. A subtle movement he doesn’t miss.
Fighting my desire for him isn’t working; it’s the true meaning of a losing battle. He makes me want more. Makes me want to let go and live.
“Tell me, Twirl.” Malcolm sits up, running the tips of his fingers up each leg. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Slowly, he finds his way to my waist where his fingers almost encompass my abdomen—all the way around with little room left between his fingertips, showcasing how tiny I am.
Something else I like about him. Find attractive.
Malcolm Asher is the epitome of all things male. The literary equivalent of what I’ve read about in books when describing a true alpha.
He’s dangerous, and from what I have seen, those around him show nothing but respect in his presence. And yet, with me he’s shown another side; it’s still rough, yet not intimidating. He’s not trying to force himself on me, but instead, make me want him.
And I do. God, I do.
The man is handsome, dominant, and pushes every single one of my buttons. Gives me a boost in confidence—makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I’m beautiful to him, but will I survive if things blow up in my face?
“I don’t know how to answer that, Malcolm. What I want isn’t going to suddenly appear.”
Those fingertips dig in—the small bite of pain feels good. “Don’t fight it, baby. Just let go.” He makes it all sound so simple. Like my wishes are his command, and that’s very dangerous for me.
However, the more his stare penetrates mine, I find myself unconsciously moving. Straddling his thighs once more, my dress bunches up around my midsection as I press our bodies close. No room between us.
“I want my freedom, Malcolm.” Laying my forehead against his, I give in. Saying aloud what I’ve kept hidden for years. “I want to feel alive.”
“Then it’s yours.” He groans, flexing his hips against the shallow roll of mine. And Christ, I feel every solid inch. How thick he is. How much he wants me.
Wants this between us, and more so because I’m the one who’s initiating this contact. Because I want him too.
Seeing his physical desire—the hunger in his eyes creates a heady reaction in me. It’s freeing. No pressure whatsoever as I give in to my own wants.
Just let go.
He’s in my head. Under my skin.
Prickling at my senses and chipping away years of repression.
“That’s it, beautiful. Take what you want,” he groans, tightening his grip, yet it’s my hips that move above his. It’s my control that keeps us at a torturous pace.
Everything in this room disappears. Consequences have no meaning; where we are or how we met. That no longer matters to me. I don’t care that he’s a client, is dangerous for me, and hates my family.
All I can concentrate on is what he makes me feel, and I let my instincts guide me.
“You make me want things, Malcolm. Things I shouldn’t think about until—”
He crashes his mouth to mine before I can finish. It’s urgent and rough, a raping of my senses that shreds the last bit of sanity I’m holding on to.
This time when my hips buck against him, its hard and fast, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through every limb. A feeling I chase with another gyration, more closeness.
I want to feel his skin on mine. Every solid inch, so I settle for unbuttoning his shirt. “Get it off,” I whimper into his mouth, trembling as the last button slips free and the shirt reveals a strong chest below.
That’s when I see it. He has another tattoo.
On the right side of his chest is the large image of an owl in black and white with an all-seeing eye held tight in its claws. It’s beautiful, with bold lines and its intricate shading. The entire thing stands out against his slightly tanned skin, and I’m not the least bit embarrassed by my reaction to this.
It’s visual. It’s automatic. It’s instinctual.
I rub myself against his cock with hard little bucks of my hips while pushing the offending fabric back over his shoulders. My thighs clench with each roll, fingers tracing over his hard pecs and lower, over each solid indentation of his abdomen.
He’s strong. Defined. All man.
“Fuck,” he grunts out then, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. His hands wander lower to my bare thighs and flex over my skin; he’s fighting back his own need to take over. To touch me where no other man has. To claim what he believes is his. “Corrupting you, sweet girl, will be my greatest achievement. I’m going to enjoy watching you become my beautiful little slut. My every-fucking-thing.”
Those words on anyone else’s lips would incense me, but with him, I shiver with pleasure. Become wetter, the proof of my desire coating the front of his pants.
“I’m so close,” I breathe out, choking at the end on another moan as one of his large hands pushes me back to sit up, changing the angle. Thick and throbbing, he takes over my movements, arms flexing as he guides my body over his.
“Come for me, Twirl. Let go.”
“Please,” I beg for more. My limbs are thrumming with pleasure and my heart is racing. A delicious orgasm licks at my senses, almost there, when he releases my hip and brings a hand to my throat. “What are—”
“I’m not going to ask you again.” His fingertips trace my neck; his thumb, with the symbol of a cross tattooed on his skin, settles on my lower lip. Just sits there, while the rest of his hand spreads, caressing my neck. “Come for me.”
“I-I... oh fuck,” It leaves me on a cry that borders on painful. I’m gone. No longer in control over my body as pleasure zips through me. Burns me.
Nothing has ever felt this good. All the others given by my own hand now fall under the mediocre category.
“I can feel you clenching, baby. Seeking my cock,” he grits out, stilling beneath me. “Son of a bitch, you’re going to feel so good taking every inch of me as I claim you. When I finally steal that gift you’ve kept for me.”
Even as he twitches, pulses, Malcolm’s eyes stay on mine. And it’s the animalistic hunger in them that takes the very breath from my lungs.
Another rush of pleasure takes over me and I fall forward. I can’t breathe. Can’t move.
Yet his hands are everywhere, slowly bringing me back down with every caress. It takes a while, but when I find my breath again, I look up and find him smiling down at me. It’s a soft look, one that tugs at my heart.
That I’m not prepared for in the least.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I bury my face in his neck. “I have no control with you.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“It’s a dangerous thing for me.”
At that, he pulls me from my hiding spot to face him. “What are you afraid of? I’d never hurt you.”
“My family—”
“Has no place in this conversation, London. It’s about me and you.” He leans in and presses a featherlight kiss to my right cheek and then left. To my forehead and then chin. “Don’t fight me, baby. Don’t fight us. Let me take care of you.”
Christ, I don’t know what to do.
I’m attracted to him. Feel safe.
“This is crazy. I don’t know you, have no idea how any of this will work.” Everything he says is exactly what I want to hear, but is it the truth? Or is it what he thinks I want? Because I feel a little caught in the middle of whatever is going on between him and Alton. “Give me a little bit of time. Give me a reason to stay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, a little confused at how easily he gives in. “Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.” Malcolm taps my thigh, signaling for me to get up. Immediately, I panic that he’s leaving. It comes out of nowhere, overwhelming me as I stand with shaking knees. He sees this and follows me up, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me steady. “I’ll give you what you want, but I’m always going to be one step behind. Chasing you. I’m not giving up, just letting you catch up.” His head dips down, lips brushing my own, once, twice, before he nips the sensitive skin. “Now get dressed. I’m taking you to pick up your car.”
