Page 32 of Make Me A Sinner
Pulling my pants back up, I go to the door while Serena scrambles across the room and throws on a dress that just came back from the dry cleaners, while her tank top gets lost somewhere in the middle of the living room.
seventeen
-Serena-
I'm fixing my hair while smoothing the edges of my dress so I won't look like the mess I really am. My damn pussy is still twitching in anticipation. Poor thing doesn't know she's not getting served tonight.
I watch Set casually open the door like nothing was happening just a second before, but there are obvious signs that betray him.
"Yeah, we're skipping the brotherly hug with that thing pointing at me," Whiro says, stepping inside, staying as far from Set as possible. "I never realized you werethathappy to see me," he laughs, looking down at Set's joggers which do a shitty job at hiding his still very-much-awake hard-on. Not that he even bothers to hide it. "Did I interrupt you two mid-fuck?" Whiro asks, eyes on me as he strolls into the middle of the room.
"No, we were..." I fumble for an excuse while trying to fix the mess in my hair. I don't even realize when he had time to wreck my ponytail, but things happened in a blur.
"Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I can see the tension all over your faces. Along with my brother’s dick trying to stare me downthrough his pants." Whiro barely holds back a laugh, while Set rolls his eyes behind him, like he's long past being surprised by his brother's blunt-ass mouth. Not too different from his own. It's just that Whiro's tone hits different—cocky, maybe even cheerful in some ways, but unstable to say the least. Set, on the other hand, comes off way more menacing. And even though I know how dangerous my mobster is in reality, his brother seems like a whole different beast, like a ticking time bomb totally out of anyone's control.
"Is something burning?" Whiro asks, scrunching his nose like he's sniffing out the air.
"My sauce!" I run to the kitchen, desperate to save dinner.
I make it just in time. The sauce wasn't burning. It was just starting to overcook. And I can't help being impressed by the man’s senses because I can barely tell it was sticking to the bottom of the pot.
Both Whiro and Set follow me to the kitchen, probably to judge the damage. I manage not to make a fool of myself, and give them a thumbs-up as I taste the hot sauce. Dinner’s not ruined—yet.
"Well, we might as well eat," Whiro shrugs. "You're not getting laid anytime soon. I'm in the mood for a whiskey."
The man drives me insane—and not in a good way. I don't like him.
"So, what's for dinner?" He comes next to me—like we’ve known each other for a lifetime—sniffs around, then steals a meatball. "This is delicious," he mumbles through a mouthful, then licks his fingers—no manners whatsoever. Suddenly, he turns to look at me, throwing me a quick wink. "Set, you should claim this one before someone else does."
Okay, I rectify that, I might like him a little, not because he just told Set to claim me, but because he appreciates my skills in the kitchen.
"Watch it," I hear Set warn, but he's not serious enough to sell it. I think he recognizes his brother's sense of humor.
"Not me." Whiro lifts both hands in the air like he's backing out of a crime scene. "I'm too good to be in the market. Besides, I don't do relationships."
"Neither did I," Set mutters, like I'm the one who ruined his life, not the other way around.
Still... is that what this is? A relationship?
Sounds weird, even just thinking about it, let alone saying it out loud. But sooner or later, I think I'll have to accept I’m in the weirdest relationship on the planet.
"Sit, I'll pour you a drink," Set nods at a barstool, making Whiro sit at the kitchen island while he gets them some whiskey. And Mr. Cat decides to join in, hopping up on the barstool like he owns the damn place.
"Well I'll be damned... Oh wait, I am damned." Whiro grins with that signature hidden madness I think I'm starting to get used to. "I almost forgot you two had a baby," he says, laughing as he looks at Set. Then turns to me. "Gorgeous, you actually put a leash on this one. Who would’ve thought? Bro, you're one succulent plant away from getting neutered," he says, shooting Set a look, then shudders like the mental image actually disturbed him. "What's his name?" he asks, reaching out to pet the cat.
"Mr. Cat," I chuckle, searching for a tray to throw the meatballs into the oven.
"Eight-Ball," Set says at the same time, making me pause and look at him.
"Eight-Ball?" I blink. I’ve never heard him call the cat that. Come to think about it, I’ve never heard him call him anything before.
"You know... the white balls. Anyway, it’s not up for discussion," Set mutters, just so I don’t argue over it.
"Is this your first fight?" Whiro grins as I shoot Set a death glare. "Come along, let's steal you a meatball. They're delicious," he says, tearing one apart right on the island and feeding chunks to Mr. Cat—or Eight-Ball. Or whatever his name is. Set knows I can’t fight him on this because he’s the one who took him in, even back when the two of us weren’t on best terms.
Not that we’re on great terms now.
At least if I can’t get to Set, Whiro can. His entire existence seems dedicated to pissing off Set—who’s just returned with the whiskey.
