Page 59 of Sinful Seduction
Cato’s face flashes in my mind, the idea of fucking so close to the boy ruining the buzz that so easily moves through my blood. Immediately, I shake my head. “Wall. Window.” I gulp, lubricating my dry throat. “You could sit, and I could sit on your lap. I could keep my leg reasonably straight.Fuck.” I swallow the whimper tickling the back of my throat, battling the blaze burning in my veins. “Jesus, Archer.”
“Wall.” He surges to his feet and slams his fingers deep into my pussy, capturing my lips and my cry of pleasure long before sound travels along my throat. Then he turns me to the left, walking me backwards until I hit the wall and my breath escapes on a grunt. “I hate when you’re injured, Mayet. Because I fucking hate knowing you’re in pain.” He pulls his hand away, stealing from me a single moment before my release would set me free, then he grabs the back of my neck and crushes me to the wall, chest first.
Following me in, he rests against my back, his lips by my ear. And because he’s so, so ridiculously talented, he reaches around with one hand and plays with my clit, while with the other, he unfastens his jeans, frees his cock, and fills me with a single, brutal shove that knocks the oxygen from my lungs and the world as I know it, straight off its axis. “But I especially hate knowing you’re hurt—” He rears back, then slams forward again, filling me to the brim and stoking a fire that burns deep in my core. “—BecauseIlike to be the one hurting you. I enjoy knowing this is the one time in my day where I can be rough and it won’t last longer than us. I love making you cry out for God, knowing you’re crying out for me. You want more. You want it harder. You want me to destroy your cunt and call you a good Mrs. Malone.”
He slips his fingers into my pussy, taking up room where there already is none to spare. Biting my earlobe, he fucks me viciously. “Now be a good girl and come, Minnnka.” He wraps his free hand over my mouth, pinching my nostrils shut. “Explode… silently.”
Fuck.
MINKA
Archer watches me the next morning, his lips clamped firmly shut, his eyes warming the side of my face. And every time Cato so much as breathes a little louder than usual, his fiery stare transfers across like he’s not sure which of us will kill the kid.
Him or me.
“So…” Cato lies on the couch, hidden from where I stand, but he throws a bright orange basketball into the air and catches it again when it comes down. He throws it up, and then he catches it on the way back down. “Power stayed on overnight.” He clears his throat. “Good news, huh?”
“Shut up.” I set my coffee mug under the machine’s spout and select the kind I want—strong, black, unsweetened—then I stalk out of the kitchen and around the couch. Not so I can see the kid who tries his hardest not to meet my eyes, but so I can sling the heavy window open and pray for a little cross breeze.
It smells like sex in here, and I don’t meanArcher and Minkasex.
“I’d like you to spend time at the hospital today, if you don’t mind.” I straighten out and turn back, but when his glittering green eyes tiptoe over and meet mine, I shoot my gaze toward the ceiling, my chin up, my shoulders back.Not today, Satan. Not today. “I spoke to Steve for a little while last night. He should be even better today. He needs company, and I need a set of eyes on him so I know what’s happening.”
“All good.” He throws the ball up, then catches it when it comes downagain. “I’ll go. I have nothing else to do today, since Whittaker said the stadium is closed, no exceptions, and that chick I was seeing thinks a flesh-eating bacteria ate half my fuckin’ brain away.”
“You confuse a viral infection with necrotizing fasciitis.” I return to the kitchen and wait for my coffee, impatiently tapping my foot. “I have a textbook you can borrow if you like. A little light reading while you sit beside a sick old man for a few hours.”
“We don’t need textbooks anymore, Doc.” He sits up on the couch and looks this way, so even if I don’t turn and meet his gaze—I refuse—I still feel the heat of his gaze on the back of my neck. “We have this handy-dandy thing called the internet, and it’s on all our phones. It’s fun, really. I can read a book or write a paper. I can Google necrotizing fasciitis or gamble a few dollars. I can even watch people have sex.”
Frustrated, I lose my war against myself and peer over my shoulder.
He smirks. “You won’t let me have sex. The least I can do is watch it.”
“The porn industry is predatory and not victimless.”
“Yeah, but you keep running my dates off, and now you’ve started a rumor that includes me, STDs, and mental incompetence all in the same sentence.” He lays down again and resumes tossing his ball. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your insistence on keeping these women away was becauseyouhad the hots for me.”The ball goes up. The ball comes down. “If you want me, Chief, you just gotta say so. We can work together to get rid of Archer.”
I fist an empty mug and spin on my heels, my war-face on and a metric ton of rage bubbling in my veins. “Listen here, you little f?—”
Archer intercepts, smoothly stealing my mug and turning me around again, then he shuffles me toward the door, grabs my phone and keys, and slips them into available pockets. He dashes back to the coffee machine and snags my full mug, before joining me in the hall and slamming the door shut. “Time for us to go to work.” He’s too smiley. Too happy. Too relaxed. He hands me my coffee and slings his arm over my shoulders. “I knew that would blow eventually.”
“He says shit to annoy me.” I allow him to lead me toward the stairs, and though it’s piping hot, I sip my morning caffeine. “His entire goal in life is to see how close he can come to death at my hands, then escaping juuuust before I slit his throat.”
Cato opens the apartment door behind us and leans against the frame, folding his arms. When I glance over my shoulder, he winks. “Vote for Pedro.”
“You heading in to see Steve before the office?” Archer palms the side of my face and forces my gaze forward again. “Got time, or…?”
“No. It’s Thursday, and that stupid wedding is Saturday.”
“Stupid wedding?” He chuckles. “You mean the wedding between two of our closest friends and, in my case, my oldest brother? The wedding between two people we love very much, even if we don’t like them all the time? The one between two people who love each other very m?—”
“Blah blah blah blah blah.” I make my hands ‘talk’, opening and closing my fingers and imitating a yapping mouth. “The point is, the wedding is comingsoon, and I have a whole heap of work to get through in the meantime. Chances are, Aubree’s gonna try to hang around today, too, since she’s a toxic workaholic who struggles to find a healthy balance between it and life.”
“How toxically horrible of her. I can’t believe she—and only she, and definitely no one else we know—would behave in such a way.”
“You’re being extra obnoxious, too.” I drink my coffee and relish theburn. “I need to tie up a bunch of loose ends at the George Stanley, so I can clear out at least half a day on Saturday for Aubree. She’s going to want hair and makeup?—”
“At a minimum.”
