Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

by S. J. Tilly

  My over-excitable co-worker drops into the sole visitor chair. “Okay, so it’s small. But you have a window! They could have easily stuck you out there in cubicle land.” She uses her thumb to gesture out the door.

  Cubicle land is currently empty of residents, but she’s absolutely right. I’m here as a short-term consultant and in the past that has rarely meant privacy. They could have stuck me in some temporary space, and I wouldn’t have complained. The fact that I got an office... With a desk. And a chair. And a closing door. And a flipping window. Is nothing short of amazing.

  The building we’re currently sitting in is slated to open to the public next month. I’ve seen movers walking through the halls all day, carrying in furniture and boxes. The north corner of the building, where we are, houses the new headquarters for Mazzanti Enterprises. M.E. is an international corporation specializing in entertainment, real estate, security, and more that I’m still getting a grasp on.

  Along with boasting the company’s new HQ, the new building houses a high-end hotel, three restaurants, several floors of commercial rental space, and a mini convention center. It’s impressive, high-end, and now - when M.E. wants to host an event - they can do the entire thing in-house.

  The rest of employees will start to move in over the next few days. I was lucky to snag early access to get myself set up. Since I’m here as a public relations consultant, I’m stationed on the floor with M.E.’s own PR team. Some of them are new and some are employees that are moving here from other locations. I’ve had a chance to meet them all over Skype, so it should be a smooth transition for all of us.

  Located downtown Minneapolis, my real office isn’t far from here. But, other than me, no one from our firm - Minnesota Relations - will be working out of the Mazzanti building. Even before we officially landed the job, Cheryl knew she wanted me on this project. I’ve worked with some tough clients before and this project is going to be an up-hill battle.

  The trip to Vegas last month was actually my introduction to Mazzanti Enterprises. The hotel we had stayed at is owned by the group and it started to give me an idea as to the type of money M.E. has to play with. But we didn’t just go to Sin City to sight see. We went to get an understanding of how Mazzanti Enterprises runs and the challenges we’ll face.

  “Seriously though, have you seen him yet? Mr. Sin?” Jessica wiggles her eyebrows and looks out into the hallway, like she might spot the man in question.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s just a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean that he’s hot, or sinfully delicious, or whatever ridiculous image is bouncing around in that head of yours.”

  “Oh, come on. He has to be hot,” Jessica counters.

  “Why? Because he’s rich? Have you taken a look at the Forbes list recently? Take the actors off and you’re left with a bunch of overweight, balding, misogynist assholes. Even if he’s decent looking, with a name like Mr. Sin, and a mobster family background, he’s definitely going to be trouble. Not to mention the fact that no single person needs such an ungodly amount of money. It’s disgusting.” I slump back in my chair. “This is going to be a PR nightmare.”

  “Then it’s a good thing they hired the best PR agent in the whole damn city.” Jessica batts her lashes at me while she says this.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I chuckle. Jessica’s so damn peppy I can’t even fake a frown. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the visit, but what are you doing here?”

  “Technically, I’m not here. If the boss lady asks, you never saw me.” Jessica winks as she stands. “I had to run over to see one of my clients, so I took a slight detour on the way back to check out your new digs. But if I want to get on the road before traffic hits, I gotta run.”

  “Copy that. I never saw you.” I grin as I stand. Cheryl’s a good boss, but she can be a stickler for the rules. “I’ll walk your imaginary butt down to the lobby. It’d be good to stretch my legs a bit.”

  Since there’s no one really in the office yet, I could’ve gotten away with wearing non-work clothes. But since I wanted to look decent in case I did run into anybody, I chose my favorite short sleeved black jersey dress. It’s knee length, stretchy, flattering, and comfortable. Perfect for a day of sitting at my new desk.

  Jessica claps her hands. “Maybe we’ll run into Mr. Sin!”

  I push her out the door. “The meeting tomorrow morning is the big reveal. There’s no way he’ll mess up the surprise by wandering around the building today.”

  Jessica hums her agreement as we walk down the long hallway leading to the elevators. “I still can’t believe that they’ve kept this guy under wraps all these years. Like way under wraps. He runs the whole freaking company, and we don’t even have a freaking name! I mean we know he’s a part of the family, but that’s it.” Jessica says family with emphasis.

  It’s not a secret that the Mazzantis got their fame and fortune through nefarious means. They’re well known in the world of organized crime, adding a whole new level to the word family. And a whole different complication to the public’s perception.

  I sigh. “Story is that the business is completely legal now. And as far as I can tell, that’s true. So as long as Mr. Sin isn’t some giant sleaze ball, we might have a chance at pulling this off.”

  Jessica throws her head back laughing. “Oh my god, Sasha. Only you would still use the term sleaze ball.”

  Jessica’s laugh makes me grin. I’m used to working on site, but I’ll miss seeing her in the office.

  I pat her shoulder as we approach the elevators. “Please feel free to secretly stop by as often as you want.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  VINCENT

  I tip my head down, pretending to read the paper laid out on the conference table in front of me. In reality I’m hiding a yawn. And a glance at my watch has me stifling a groan. I don’t need to be here. I can hardly think of anything more tedious than a meeting that’s sole purpose is to prepare for another meeting. I have so many other things I need to be doing, but I’m the idiot that agreed to sit in on this.

  Angelo is in the seat next to mine, playing a game silently on his phone. But he’s the head of security, so no one cares if he’s paying attention to this bullshit. Which is good because he’s been tuned out since the first five minutes.

  Rolling my shoulders, I raise my head. Since I’m not leading the meeting, I chose a seat at the far end of the table, out of the way. From here I can see out one wall of windows to the city below, and out the other wall of windows into the hallway. I make a mental note that there should be blinds in here on both walls since it’s currently not a very private room to conduct business in. This isn’t the executive floor, but I want all of the conference rooms to have privacy.

  Movement in the hallway pulls my gaze. I’ve been watching the movers haul stuff back and forth all day, nearly jealous of the hard labor they’re performing. This is a nice chair and all, but I’ve been sitting here so long my ass is numb. What I wouldn’t give for a little physical activity right about now.

  The sight of women, rather than movers, has my attention focusing as they pass by the wall of windows. There’re very few staff in the building today, so I hope these ladies walk slowly. It'll give me something to watch for a few moments, the lack of curtains suddenly paying off.

  Neither woman is very tall. They’re walking side by side so I can only really see the one closest to the glass. She looks young, mid 20’s, and has black hair cut into a severe bob. Past her I can see flashes of shiny brown hair, but that’s it. My mind starts to wander when I realize that the one with the dark hair looks a little like the suit designer from those Incredible movies. But then she throws her head back laughing. And I bolt upright in my seat.

  I can see the other woman now.

  My chest expands and my blood heats.

  It’s Sasha. My Sasha. My little Vegas runaway. Here.

  I rise from my chair.

  My cousin Angelo tilts his head at me, an unspoken questi
on. I shake mine, signaling him to stay put, then walk to the door.

  Some of the people in the meeting are watching me, but I don’t care.

  That girl owes me a fuck.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SASHA

  I can feel the start of a tension headache. It’s not like my conversation with Jessica revealed any new information about my current project, but it was a good splash of reality reminding what I have in store. Tipping my head down, I rub at my temples as the elevator rises back to my floor. I should have just grabbed my things and left with Jessica.

  The car eases to a stop. I listen to the doors slide open and drop my hands.

  With my head still tipped down, I watch a pair of men’s shoes step into the elevator.

  Not wanting to miss my exit, I raise my head, ready to excuse myself.

  And I freeze.

  My breath stalling in my chest.

  My heart does a quick double beat.

  Here, in this small elevator, over a thousand miles away from Vegas, I find myself standing a foot away from the Devil himself.

  He doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t look shocked. He looks pissed.

  “Vincent.” I whisper his name.

  In one quick movement Vincent closes the gap between us. His hands come up to the sides of my face. He leans in, his pitch-black eyes inches away from mine. I had forgotten how dark his eyes were. I swore I'd memorized every detail about him, but - being this close again, feeling his heat again - is setting my body on fire.

  “Sasha.” He growls my name.

  He leans in at the same time I push up onto my toes. Our lips collide. His mouth is warm and soft and demanding. I grab onto the lapels of his suit jacket, vaguely aware that the elevator doors have shut, and it feels like we’re moving.

  Vincent’s hands slide around to the back of my head. His fingers gripping my hair. The tug is enough to tilt my head. Taking instant advantage of the new angle, Vincent’s tongue slides against my bottom lip. I nip at him as he pulls my hair, causing me to groan.

  He presses against me, bringing our bodies flush.

  I'd missed him. Missed this body. Missed the way he makes me feel.

  When Vincent breaks the kiss, I realize that the elevator has stopped, and the doors are sliding open again.

  He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and pulls me out to follow him. The move has me flashing back to the image of us leaving the elevator in Vegas. His grip on my hand now, even more possessive than it was then.

  I almost have to jog to keep up with his long strides, not sure where he’s taking me. The movers have been here. Everything is still in boxes, but I think we’re on the top floor. The executive floor.

  Vincent steps through an open door, pulling me with. He stops suddenly, turning back to face me. With his free hand he reaches out to slam the office door shut.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “In a room with a lock.”

  Vincent walks into me, using his body to press me against the door.

  I hear the click as he locks the handle. Adrenaline surges through my body. I know what he wants. And I want it too.

  I let go of Vincent’s hand so I can use both of mine to push his jacket off his shoulders. He lets me, but as soon as it hits the floor he crowds back into my space.

  In a move I’ve only ever seen in movies, Vincent reaches down, grabs my hips, and lifts me. Pinning me against the door with his body between my legs. My thighs automatically wrap around his waist. My arms around his neck. My mouth fusing to his.

  His hands are so large they nearly cover my entire ass as he grinds into me. Vincent’s mouth leaves mine, trailing open mouthed kisses down my throat. Reaching my collar bone, he scrapes his teeth across my skin. The sensation sending a shiver straight to my core.

  Pulling us away from the door, Vincent supporting all of my weight, he walks us across the room. I drop my lips to that hollow spot at the base of his throat. And lick.

  “Fuck, sweetheart.” Vincent grinds the words out.

  That name. The same silly pet name he used on me a month ago. I hate how much I love it. I sink my teeth into the side of his neck. This man turns me into an animal. When I’m near him I feel like I go wild with desire.

  “Why’d you leave me? Why’d you run?” His questions rumble through my body.

  I shake my head against him. “You knew I was leaving.”

  A crack sounds throughout the room, accompanied by a sharp sting on my butt cheek.

  I rear my head back.

  He narrows his eyes at me, daring me to talk back and get spanked again. “You snuck out.”

  He stops walking and lets go of his hold on me. I only drop a few inches before I find myself sitting on top of a desk.

  He leans in close. “And you stole my shirt.”

  His hands start on my bare knees, and slide up my thighs, pushing my dress up as he goes. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

  When I don’t reply, he pinches my hip.

  I startle and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  “Good girl.” He kisses me once more. Brief but hard.

  Pulling away from the kiss, he presses on my chest until I’m laid out on the desk.

  “I should bend you over this desk. Fuck you from behind. Pull your hair. Smack your ass until it’s red. Punish you for what you did.” His breathing gets heavier with each word he bites out.

  Holy. Shit. The idea of getting punished has never turned me on before, but his filthy words have me soaked.

  Vincent pulls a condom out of his wallet. Undoes his belt. Lowers his zipper. And releases his already hard cock. His pants still on, he steps between my spread thighs.

  I was sore for days after the last time we were together. Yet the sight of him, long and hard and ready, has my mouth watering.

  “I should do that.” He says. “But I want you like this. I want you watching me. Seeing what you missed.”

  He grabs my hips and pulls me until my bottom half is hanging off the desk. I reach up and grip the edge of the desktop above my head. If he steps away from me now, I’ll slide off.

  Vincent groans as he pushes the skirt of my dress up over my waist. “Fuck, baby. Look at you.”

  He runs a finger over my seam, demonstrating how wet my panties are.

  With one hand he pulls the fabric to the side, revealing my pussy. With his other hand he strokes the tip of his dick up and down against my entrance.

  “Tell me you want this.” He demands.

  I don’t hesitate. “I want it. I want you.”

  Vincent pushes in one inch. “Say it again.”

  I moan. “I want you. Please. Please!” I’m begging for him to fuck me.

  He pushes in another inch. “Tell me you thought of me. Tell me you’ve thought of my cock inside you. Stretching this perfect pussy.”

  His voice is strained. He’s trying to stay in charge. But I know he’s close to losing it.

  I roll my hips up, trying to get him deeper.

  Another smack sounds through the room. With my ass hanging off the desk he still has access to my bare skin.

  “Tell me.” He growls.

  “I’ve thought of you.” I pant. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Vincent, please.”

  A change comes over his eyes. It’s small, but watching it happen was like watching a door shut. Like he’s closing himself off. I said exactly what he wanted, but somehow it must have been the wrong thing.

  I wonder if I should apologize. I’m worried he’ll stop. That he’ll step away.

  But then he pushes in another inch. And another. And then I’m taking all of him. He’s pumping his hips. And I can’t think anymore.

  I can’t focus on his eyes. I can’t focus on anything except for the feeling of Vincent sliding in and out of me. I’ve dreamt of this so many times over the past month, that this moment doesn’t even feel real.

  My hands leave the edge of the desk and instead reach blindly for Vincent. Still thrusting he le
ans forward, allowing me to grip the front of his shirt.

  I can’t stop the sounds that roll out of my throat. He’s so big and it’s been so long. Too long.

  I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his lips on me. Anywhere. But he won’t get close enough. He’s staying just far enough away.

  “Touch yourself.”

  My eyes meet his.

  “Make yourself come, Sasha.”

  His expression is full of lust and need and anger. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe him not touching me is my penance for leaving him.

  I let go of his shirt, reaching down to rub right where I need pressure the most.

  Vincent straightens back up so he can watch where we’re joined. Watch my fingers slip back and forth over my own body.

  It all feels so good. So intense.

  I want to please him. I want to follow his directions.

  Watching him watch me, it only takes another moment before I start to lose control. My fingers pick up their pace, and so does Vincent.

  It’s the sounds, the flesh on flesh, the heavy breathing, that cause me to shatter. My orgasm leaves me on a moan.

  I have half a second to worry about how loud I’m being before Vincent comes on his own groan, drowning out any sound I was making. His body stills. His head tips back. His fingers dig into the side of my thighs.

  We stay like this for a moment. Both lost in our bliss. Until Vincent releases his grip on me and steps away. Feeling him slide out of me is somehow lewder than the act of entering. But maybe it just feels that way since he’s not looking at me.

  Not having him to support me, I hurry to grab onto the desk while dropping my legs to the ground. I still feel a bit unsteady, so I stay leaning against the desk as I watch Vincent.

  He pulls the condom off, then pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to wrap around it. It’s a little gross, but I suppose leaving a used condom in some random office’s trash can would probably be a bad idea.

  As he zips his pants up his phone rings.

  He still hasn’t looked at me.

  I watch him pick up his suit jacket off the floor, pull the phone out, accept the call, and bring it to his ear.