Page 49 of Sullied Saints

We stay up late, retreating in the early hours to a guest room that smells of lavender and geranium, the bed made up tighter than most hospital cots. Dirk and I squeeze under the sheets together, late, having stayed up long talking to May. She’s had one hell of a life, having known Tregam back in its glory days before Crennick was Crennick and the killers started their trade.

But there was a dark side even then, one she found, as evidenced by the scars she doesn’t hide on her elbows, her premature ageing, and the poor mothering she admits to doing.

“So, you’ve really forgiven her?” I ask softly, the dim glow from the streetlight casting his face in intersecting shadows.

Hand resting on my hip, Dirk asks, much too loudly in my opinion, “What? For being a drug ho?”

“Dirk!” I gasp. “You can’t say that about that sweet old lady…”

“For one, she’s not that old,” he reminds me. “And for another, she admits it. Yes, I’ve forgiven her.”

I settle a little. “I’m glad you made me meet her.”

“Different to Caleb’s, huh?”

Laughing, I roll onto my back, looking up at the blueish ceiling. “You could say that.”

“Must have convinced you I’m not him by now, right?”

Tilting my chin back towards him, I search the shadows of his eyes. He’s still on his side, facing me. I bite my lip. “I know you’re not him.” Both were cops, detectives—men I met at work. But really, that’s where the similarities end.

“But you still expect the same things sometimes. I can see it.”

“I know, I…”

“I’m not looking for an apology,” he cuts in, voice gentle. “If I have to spend every day for the rest of my life convincing you I’m not him, I will.”

My throat dries up. The rest of his… “I… thank you.” Feeling out of my depth, I snuggle my head up against his chest. “See? You can be sweet.”

“Mm, I’m truly a man of many skills,” he muses, though his voice is distracted now, hand finding my waist under these starched blankets. “Also, what the hell is this?Pyjamas?”

“We’re in your mother’s house!” I hiss. “OfcourseI brought pyjamas!”

His fingers are already sliding up the buttons, flicking them open with impressive speed. “Uh-uh, this won’t do at all…”

I suppress my giggle as he somehow works the top open and off one shoulder under the blanket, his bare body leaning over mine, into mine. “Your mother is downstairs. If you think I’m letting you…”

He hums against my earlobe. “It’s alright. She takes her hearing aid out at night. You can make all the noise you want.”

“You’re actually the worst.”

His body is warm and hard in a very different way to this bed as he weighs against my chest, struggling to manoeuvre his wide shoulders under the tight spread. “Jesus, this bed is almost a bondage device all on its own.”

When he pulls the tie on the front of my bottoms, I clamp my hand around his wrist. “No, Mr.”

“Shh,” he breathes against my cheek, the noise settling low in my belly before he finds my mouth in the dark, silencing any other recriminations as his tongue slides against mine.

I’m really just putting up token resistance at this stage, and he quells even that by catching both my hands with one of his and pinning them above my head, working my pants over my ass with his free hand. As his fingers slide over the curve, he lingers on the apex, brushing over me from the back. My breath hitches in my throat, and my hips jolt first away, then soften back down against his touch.

In a dark voice, Dirk murmurs, “Mm, you’re getting wet awfully fast for someone who says they don’t want to be fucked.” His teeth graze my jaw, sending shivers down through my chest. The sleeves of my top pull around my shoulders as he weighs on my hands.

“Well, I don’t,” I return, contrary to my voice, which is breathy, and my body, which arches into his hand as he cups me.

“Oh? How about… now?” And he slides a finger inside me, then two, slowly.

I can’t form words, but I make some noise to the contrary. Iwanthim to force me, to take and leave me a heaving mess. And he knows it.

His hand leaves me, ripping my bottoms all the way off my feet and leaving me bare before his knee shoves between mine. Gasping, I try to bump my hips away, denying him the superior position, and a low noise in his throat precedes him leveraging his body on top of me, parting my legs roughly with his thick thighs. I feel his cock rest on my stomach, the head leaving a smear of precum. “Keep fighting me, I like it,” he growls in warning, hands tightening almost painfully on my wrists.

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