Sin & Suffer

by Pepper Winters

  My face scrunched, trying to work it out. Arthur didn’t move, didn’t help.

  Finally, I gave up. “No idea.”

  He beamed. “One letter, four letters, three letters, two.” He gathered me close, his warmth melting my bones. “I love you, too.”

  My heart skipped and I hugged him hard. “Always …”

  Our reflection bounced from the mirrored ceiling above. The villa had an entire wall of glass, inviting in trees and soft island breeze to whisper around us and keep the muggy island heat at bay. The sound of insects buzzing and birds cooing was the perfect backdrop to this wonderful vacation.

  Along with getting away from the press and interviews and research, Arthur had finally jumped back into the world of trading. He’d fought me for a full year whenever I asked if he would trade the FX market again. I knew he feared the concussion had ruined his mathematical abilities. I didn’t believe that. He just proved it. But there was only so much encouragement I could give before it became a nag.

  I hadn’t said a word when he’d unzipped his laptop bag and opened the familiar charts and accounts. I didn’t want to pry, but so far he’d only placed successful trades, rather than bad.

  I hoped it proved to himself that he wasn’t broken. That he was fully himself with every gift he’d been graced with.

  My lips twitched, thinking about last night. We’d awoken to a torrential downpour. The thunder cracked above as if the very fabric of the universe would shred to smithereens. Instead of staying in bed, Arthur had gathered me in his strong arms and carried me to sit on the cool tiles by the windows with our hands pressed against the glass watching the rain obscure the rest of the world.

  I’d never felt so happy or complete as I did in his embrace.

  His love for me hurt my heart.

  Tackling me, Arthur rubbed his five o’clock shadow over my cheek. “No matter how many times I have you, I’ll never stop being awed by how beautiful you are.” His lips touched mine, pressing me into the mattress. “After all this time. You’re mine.”

  I didn’t have time to respond as his hand dropped between my legs, brushing against my core. He growled when he found how wet I was.

  I gasped as he pushed a finger inside me. “I’ve been yours since I was five.” My hips bucked and I stopped thinking.

  All I focused on was Arthur. My Libran. My lover.

  Arthur climbed on top of me, fisting the heavy weight of his erection and coating his tip in my wetness.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he panted in my mouth as we both gasped at the delicious friction. Heat sprung over my skin that had nothing to do with the island warmth.

  “I want you, Buttercup.”

  “You have me.”

  He shook his head, tracing his tongue over my bottom lip as he sank inside me slowly, effortlessly, coming home where he belonged.

  I moaned as he settled his weight over me, holding my head in his hands as he jammed his elbows in the mattress on either side of my ears.

  “I want you forever.”

  “I am yours forever.”

  Again, he shook his head. “I know that. You know that. But fate … I’m not so sure …”

  I frowned, worried at the intensity in his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  He rocked, hitting the perfect place inside, spiraling me into a whirlpool of lust. “Fate brought us tougher. It tested us. It took away everything, then gave so much back.”

  I cupped his face just like he cupped mine. Holding him like that felt as if I held his very soul. “What do you mean?”

  He swallowed. “When we die, we’ll have to start all over again.”

  “Arthur, what—”

  “It will start all over again because even though we’re fated to be together, it’s not official. You’re still a Price.”

  My tummy twisted as my thoughts raced. Was he …

  “I want you as my wife. Not just as my old lady—shit, I don’t have a Club anymore so that means nothing. I want you as my wife. I want you to wear my name. I want vows to bind us for eternity. I want there to be no doubt that we belong to each other irrevocably.”

  Tears tickled my eyes as I arched up and kissed him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  He half chuckled, half gasped; his eyes glittered with emotion. “Do you want me on one knee?” His hips pulsed, making us both groan with pleasure.

  I shook my head. “No, I like this method.”

  He smiled. “You can’t run away from me while I’m inside you.” Dropping his head, he nuzzled into my neck. “You can’t say no.”

  I clutched his head to me, wrapping my legs around him, reminding myself that no other woman had embraced this man. No other woman had the right to his body, heart, or mind. Not since I captured it that fateful day in our youth.

  “I could say no … if I wanted.”

  He reared back, fear striking the depths of his eyes. “What?”

  I laughed quietly. “In my mind, we were married the day you gave me my mood ring. That was the day I bound my soul to yours.”

  Arthur grabbed my hand with the ring on it—the fake metal was tarnished and the stone waterlogged from all the swimming we’d done in the bay, but I wouldn’t take it off. I loved having it there. It was a constant reminder that we’d fought and won.

  “I’ll ask you this one last time, Buttercup, and watch what you say because if I don’t like your answer, I’ll deny you an orgasm and leave you miserable.”

  I wrinkled my nose, rocking my hips. “Now, that wouldn’t be fair.”

  He growled as I dropped my hands and dug my nails into his ass, forcing him to thrust into me. “Goddammit, you keep doing that and I’ll come.”

  I smiled wickedly. “I bet I can make you come before you can make me say yes.”

  His gaze lit up with challenge. “Is that so?”

  I nodded, already thrilling and regretting the gauntlet I’d set.

  Arthur suddenly sat up, dragging me with him to straddle his lap. His cock hit the top of me and I flew closer to a release.

  “Marry me, Cleo Price. Become Mrs. Killian and let me keep you forever.” His face contorted as he thrust hard, burying himself inside me.

  I moaned, gripping his strong shoulders. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  A tortured groan echoed in his chest as he clamped my hips and drove deeper, faster. Every rock tightened my muscles, determining who would win the bet.

  Our breathing weaved together as we locked bodies and gave into instinct—the basest need to join and bond and love.

  “Please, Cleo …,” he growled, his thrusts becoming faster, primal. “Fucking marry me, woman.”

  My head fell back as his cock stretched me in perfect ways. I rode him as he rode me, living in glitter and stardust as my orgasm sharpened.

  Arthur’s fingers dug into my thighs, holding me, driving deeper inside me. “Say yes.”

  I smiled. “You’re not trying hard enough.” Grabbing his hair, I locked eyes with him.

  Green to green.

  Soul to soul.

  “Come for me, Art. Then I’ll marry you.”

  He gritted his teeth as I tugged on the long strands, rocking in his lap. His body stiffened as I took over the rhythm, setting a relentless intoxicating pace.

  His eyes tightened. “Shit, you’re … not … going … to …”

  I bit his ear, increasing my speed. “Not going to do what?” I licked his jaw. “Win?”

  He suddenly flipped me onto my back, pinning me down with his hips. “Say yes. Now. Do it. I’m about to fucking explode.” He turned feral, giving me no room to hide and no breath to gasp.

  My body turned rigid as every nerve ending shot between my legs. His thickness, his length, the pure undiluted way he loved me all soared me into the stratosphere.

  The playfulness disappeared.

  Seriousness tinged every thrust.

  Everything else disappeared under an avalanche of bliss
.

  His mouth crashed on mine, drinking my heart and soul. “Say yes, Buttercup. Make me the happiest man alive.”

  The beg in his voice undid me and in that blissful moment of piercing pleasure, I thanked the universe for making me worthy of this man.

  That he was mine forever.

  Giving in to him, I let go of everything, sewing my heart to his for eternity.

  His tongue entered my mouth, tasting of desperation and desire; I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  I came.

  Oh, God!

  Every cell exploded, obliterating loneliness and lost years. “Arthur …”

  “Take me,” he grunted. “Tell me you’ll have me forever.”

  My release grew stronger. Wave after wave, I relished our connection and the adoration I found in his arms.

  I’d found home.

  I’d found my perfect other.

  Throwing my head back, I threw myself into the final band of my orgasm and said one single word.

  Three tiny letters.

  The ultimate immortal promise.

  “Yes.”

  Playlist

  Paloma Faith, “Picking up the Pieces”

  Adele, “Skyfall”

  Muse, “Uprising”

  Ellie Goulding, “Burn”

  Backstreet Boys, “I Want It That Way”

  Katy Perry, “Dark Horse”

  Creed, “My Sacrifice”

  Monsters and Men, “I of the Storm”

  The Wallflowers, “One Headlight”

  Florence and the Machine, “Cosmic Love”

  Snow Patrol, “Signal Fire”

  Coldplay, “Yellow”

  Ellie Goulding, “I Know You Care”

  Ellie Goulding, “Love Me Like You Do”

  Find out how their journey of forbidden pleasures began …

  Available now.

  Read on for a preview of Ruin & Rule …

  I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

  —Kill

  Darkness.

  That was my world now. Literally and physically.

  The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.

  Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.

  I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive.

  Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.

  Fear never helps, only hinders.

  My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.

  Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.

  Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?

  Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.

  It wasn’t just me being kidnapped.

  My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.

  I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.

  I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.

  Get through this, then worry about them.

  I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.

  Had I been at a party? Nightclub?

  Nothing.

  I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think …

  No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me.

  I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.

  I tried to swallow.

  No saliva.

  I tried to speak.

  No voice.

  I tried to remember what happened.

  I tried to remember …

  Panic.

  Nothing.

  I can’t remember.

  “Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”

  I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.

  I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.

  “I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the FINAL CALL flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.

  “Call me the moment you get there.”

  “Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—

  The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.

  Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?

  “I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.

  Unfortunately.

  My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.

  My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.

  This was real.

  This is real.

  My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.

  I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.

  Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.

  I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.

  But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.

  The pushing stopped. So did I.

  Big mistake.

  “Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed … wood?

  Bare feet?

  Where are my shoes?

  The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.

  Where did I come from?

  How did I end up here?

  What’s my name?

  It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmne
ss. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.

  How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?

  Who am I?

  To have who I was deleted … It was unthinkable.

  “Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.

  “Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.

  “Again.”

  I obeyed.

  “Last one.”

  I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.

  My face.

  What do I look like?

  A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.

  “Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by … copper and metallic … blood?

  Why … why is that so familiar?

  I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.

  “I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.

  “Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.

  My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.

  Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.