Page 37 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Fourteen
Anthony
I hate her.
I hate her for saying what she’s saying.
I hate her for insisting there’s something good in me.
I hate her for seeing me as worthy.
I hate her for being in my mind every damn moment.
And most of all, I hate her for making me yearn for things I can’t have—love, acceptance, warmth and light. She represents all of that and more, and it slices me to ribbons.
My kiss is brutal, designed to bruise and hurt. Even humiliate.
Because she needs to leave me alone. She needs to get the hell out of my head, my mind, my dreams. She needs to stop making me wish for things I can’t aspire to, things I can’t reach for anymore, not when my soul is stained pitch-black. How fucked do you have to be when not even your death can fix what’s broken?
But her fingers tighten on my shoulders. She parts her lips, and our breath mingles—her caramel and cherry flavor going straight to my cock, making me hard and aching.
I push my dick against her belly, deliberately being as crude as possible. I want her to slap me, tell me I’m a monster and leave before I lose control and try to hold on to her. She deserves better. It’ll hurt if Mother shuts her out like she did everyone else for being nice to me.
Ivy gasps against my lips. And instead of pulling away, she flicks her tongue across mine.
It sets my body on fire.
I shove a hand into her hair, holding her tight as I devour her, seeking her sweetness and warmth. She takes all my rough aggression and turns it into an aching desperation pulsing through my veins. If we were in medieval times, I’d be on one knee, pledging my life to her. The thought is shocking, but it doesn’t cool my lust. It makes me hold her tighter, praying I can somehow be worthy, that I’m the kind of guy with even a sliver of light in his soul.
Then we’re moving, and the backs of her knees hit the mattress. She falls onto the neatly made bed, and I follow her down, my mouth still fused to the softness of her eager lips. Breathing hard, she reaches for my shirt, her hands jerky and impatient. I’m gratified at seeing how clumsy her fingers are. They can fly across the piano with perfect control, speed and mastery, playing some of the most technically challenging pieces. But now, with lust flushing her cheeks, she can barely undo my belt buckle.
And I want her a thousand times more for it.
I shed my clothes and stand before her, so she can drink in her fill…and have a chance to run. Instead, her gray eyes are dark and shining with excitement, and she studies me from head to toe. I’ve never been gladder that I work out and stay in shape. At least my body is worth something.
“You’re…bigger than I expected,” she blurts out, her gaze on my cock.
I laugh softly. “Don’t give me some clichéd ‘is that going to fit’ line.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Not that big.”
I can’t help it. I laugh with genuine humor and delight. Placing my palms on either side of her head, I lean over and claim her mouth, letting her know I plan to go all the way unless she stops me. She responds eagerly, stoking my desire to a fever pitch.
Without breaking our kiss, I take off her dress. She lifts her body here and there to help. Her underwear is plain—a nude padded bra and cotton bikini in the same shade. Totally demure and PG compared to some of the girls I’ve known, but Ivy’s lingerie is somehow more exciting. There’s something innocent and sweet about it.
She nervously wets her lips. I kiss them softly. “You’re gorgeous.”
She gifts me with a smile so radiant it hurts to look. Ignoring the odd hitch in my chest, I trace every beautiful curve of her body, determined to give her all the pleasure I can for the priceless gift she’s bestowing on me. She isn’t exactly voluptuous, but everything about her is soft and feminine.
Her breathing shallows, and I tease her, trailing my fingers along the edge of her bra. When I stroke the swell of her breast, I can sense her thundering heartbeat. I unhook the bra and slide it off.
Goosebumps rise on her breasts at the cool air. I shower them with kisses and caresses, avoiding the pointed tips. Her breasts are lovely—plump, soft and responsive, her pink nipples beading. I pull one into my mouth and suck hard, using my tongue and teeth to torment her, and she reacts like she’s been touched by a live wire.
“Tony.” Her fingers dig into my hair. Her shameless response is like pouring oil over a fire. I’m so damn hard that I want to shove into her right now.
Easy, easy.I want this to be amazing for her. I need this to be amazing for her. Despite knowing how broken I am, she’s trusting me with her body. It humbles me—that unconditional trust—and makes me want to pleasure her until she screams herself hoarse.
While sucking on the other nipple, I slip a hand under her panties. She’s completely wet, her hot juices drenching my fingers. I circle the opening of her pussy and flick the pad of my thumb over her clit.
