Sinful Hands: (Lucas & Chanel #1)

by T. L Smith

  “Yes. It won’t happen often.”

  I get out of the car and look down at him before I shut the door. “That’s a hard fucking no. Go to your own place and don’t come back.” I slam the door and throw my hand in the air, giving him a wave. “Thanks for the ride.” I practically run up the stairs to reach my door.

  Brody is curled up on the couch, asleep with the television on. He wakes when I pour myself a glass of water. “You’ll be home by yourself this weekend,” I announce. I sit in the chair across from him and that’s when his black eye becomes evident.

  “Chanel.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, not wanting to answer me.

  “You need to stop doing stupid shit and think with your fucking head before you end up like our parents,” I seethe, then angrily storm off to my room and slam the door going to bed angry. How could he be so silly after everything we have been through.

  13

  Lucas

  “When are you going to get married?” my mother asks in Italian.

  I shake my head, release a huff, then speak to her in English. “Never.”

  She hits me on the back of the head before walking to the kitchen. “I didn’t arrange your marriage like them other boys, so you should be thankful.”

  Yes, I am, because it’s one less person I would have to kill. I couldn’t handle being told who I’m meant to marry. Even Keir thought he could do it but that failed, and here he is married to someone picked by him and not his father.

  I was the lucky one. My father wasn’t as deep into this world as I am. He married my mother in Italy, then moved here when they had me. He worked for Keir’s father up until the day he left my mother, and I only see him when he needs something. It’s my mother and Keir’s father who are related.

  “I want you to be happy,” my mother says, putting food in front of me. I try to see her once a week, I’m an only child and I know how lonely she gets. The problem is, my life is busy.

  “I am happy, Mama,” I tell her, picking at the bacon in front of me. My phone starts ringing and I see Chanel’s kid brother’s name flash on my screen. “I have to take this. Sorry, Mama.”

  She waves me off and goes back to making a coffee.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me in today.”

  “No. Where is your sister?” It’s the weekend and I figured she would be home.

  “Um...”

  “Brody,” I warn.

  “She went away for the weekend.” My back straightens at his words.

  “Where? And with whom?” I snap.

  “She asked me not to mention it.”

  “Okay. Well, who did she go with?”

  “Her boss.”

  I hang up and take one last bite of bacon, kissing my mother on the cheek and telling her I’ll see her again next week. She asks me to stay, but I can’t. I have a feisty little bitch I need to find.

  “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.” Joey stands out the front, his arms crossed over his chest. “Figured it wouldn’t take you long. But, to be honest, I was hoping you wouldn’t show up.”

  “Shit out of luck, then, aren’t you?” I look behind him. “Where is she?”

  “What’s your fascination with her?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you this interested in a woman before. Let alone someone like her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have a type,” he states.

  “What would that be?”

  “Prissy bitches you like to dominate.”

  Well, he isn’t wrong. It’s always fun bringing a bitch down a notch or two as they so effortlessly fall into my trap.

  Chanel, though, this woman intrigues me. And I’ve never been intrigued or held hostage by someone until her.

  I want her.

  This much I know.

  But in what respect? I have no idea.

  I’ve never once dreamed of settling down with someone or staying with someone longer than necessary. All those in relationships I see around me, outgrow each other. And I seem to outgrow people quickly. So why waste my time?

  “How do you feel that she’s a whore?”

  “Was,” I correct him.

  “That’s like saying the sky isn’t blue. It is what it is, and she was a whore.”

  “I’d watch how you talk about her,” I warn, stepping closer to him.

  “Whore. You want to fuck that whore. Why don’t you just pull some cash out and see how far she lets you get? I’m sure for the right amount, she’ll happily spread her legs.”

  It takes two breaths for my fist to connect with his face, then another to watch him drop. As soon as he hits the ground, I kick him in the gut, making him grunt, for good fucking measure.

  “Again, watch your fucking mouth.”

  “You did deserve that,” Sailor says calmly. I look up and Chanel is standing there, eyes wide, with Sailor next to her. Sailor turns to Chanel, who can’t seem to move or even blink, and says to her, “Why don’t you go lie down?”

  “I’d rather have a shot.” Chanel’s eyes leave mine before she walks back into the house.

  Joey grunts as he sits up. “I knew it would get a reaction from you.” He smirks. “You like her. More than anyone I’ve ever seen before, apart from your mama.” He stands and wipes the blood from his nose. “I better go apologize.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” I reach out to stop him, but when my hand touches his chest, he pushes it away. “Stay the fuck away from her, and me, if you want to continue to breathe,” I snarl, as I stomp away.

  “I’m your superior,” Joey shouts. “You will respect me.”

  Who the fuck even says shit like that?

  “When I burry you twelve feet under, maybe. I respect no man.” I walk into the house and find Chanel in the bar area. She’s pouring herself a drink and I sidle up next to her. She pours me one too and slides it across to me.

  “Is that all I will ever be? Is that all you people will ever see me as?” she asks in a soft voice.

  Chanel doesn’t do soft.

  Chanel never does soft.

  “I don’t see you that way at all.”

  Her eyes look up at me with mercy instead of loathing for the first time. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I would kiss you right now. But I hate to kiss.” She picks up a shot glass and throws it back.

  “I’d happily take that kiss, even if you hated everything about it.”

  “You really do have serious issues. You’re wanting something from me I will never give.”

  “And what is that?” I ask.

  “Me. You may get pieces of me, but that’s all you will ever get.” She stands and grabs the bottle. When she gets to the door, she looks back. “I’m about to let you take your first piece. Come on, big boy, let’s see what you got.”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

  I get up and follow her eagerly to her room.

  14

  Chanel

  It’s probably the worst mistake of my life, but no one has ever defended me like that before, and it switched something inside me. A switch I never thought could be toggled. And that may be an issue, but right now, with a few shots in me and his warm hand touching mine, I’m ready to let him show me how much he wants what he keeps on asking for.

  Me.

  Just before I get to my room, he pulls my hand and directs me to his. I’d taken notice that it was his room when Sailor was showing me around. Though they did say he usually goes to a hotel to stay, because he prefers his own space.

  As soon as we enter, he shuts the door behind me and then pushes me up against the wall. My breathing picks up at his nearness.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  This is absolutely stupid.

  Can someone uttering a few words in my defense really make me want him?

  After everything he’s done? Because we all know how fucked-up he is.


  He’s careful when he leans into me. His lips dance across my skin smelling me as he goes, starting from my neck and dragging down until he gets to my dress, which is only held together with buttons up the front. I went swimming earlier, so it was easy to put this on over the top of my swimsuit.

  I wonder when he killed last, besides Chase. Does blood coat those strong hands that are now glued to my bare skin? The hand that has mine trapped against the door releases me, then steps back and reaches for something in his pocket. He smirks as he pulls out a pocket knife.

  “You are familiar with this.” I nod my head, unable to speak, nerves and excitement coat every inch of me. “I’ve been dreaming about this.” He hooks the knife into my dress and, in one swift movement, slides it all the way up, the buttons popping off one by one.

  I’m standing before him now in just my string bikini. Lucas moves in closer, keeping the knife in his hand, and leans in to untie the one between my breasts with his mouth as his hands slide down to my hips and do the same with them. I feel the suit bottom drop to the floor and the top gape open. He walks backward to his bed, sits down, and eyes me from his seat.

  He’s still fully clothed as his gaze burns across my exposed body.

  “Come to Daddy.”

  His words pique my interest. Did he really just say that?

  When I don’t move, he slaps his thigh and I put one foot in front of the other as I make my way toward him. Nerves wrack my body, and I’m never nervous for sex, so this is all very new to me. When I reach him, he nods to my bikini top still dangling from my body. “Remove that.”

  When I’m completely naked, his hand juts out and reaches for my hip so he can turn me around. “Bend over.” I do, until my ass is in his face. That’s when I feel his breath at my entrance. He’s doing that creepy breathing, sniffing shit again—he’s such a fucking weirdo.

  I’m sure having a fascination with someone’s smell is the strangest shit I have ever come across, and believe me, I have come across some whack jobs in my time. So why, when his tongue reaches out and touches me there, do I jump? He holds me still with a hand to my back as it does it again.

  Then, he does the unthinkable and does it again, but this time he doesn’t stop. He licks from my pussy to my ass, and I can’t help but quiver at the sensation. I’m already wet, my body seeming to enjoy this, and when he’s had his taste, he pulls away, slapping my pussy with an open hand. I let out a squeal, and when I turn back around, I find him standing as well.

  Right now, my mind is firing with don't do this, but my body is not paying any attention. I know this man is fucked-up in all the strangest ways, but his protection in coming to my defense has me thinking perhaps there is another side to him that I haven’t taken into consideration.

  Is he really all that bad? The answer I know is yes, yet, as conflicted as I am, he seems to have a side to him that won’t take no for an answer, and two, there is something there, something unusual but equally as beautiful in his persona.

  Yeah, I know, call me crazy, but right now he feels good, and I am going with that.

  “Undress me,” he commands. I never thought I’d enjoy being a submissive in the bedroom, because I’m so in control of my life. But I’m so wet for him—like next-level wet. And I never get wet. A man has not once made me come. One came close once, but that’s it, and I always fake it with my clients. I’m an expert at fake it till you make it. I’m literally trained in the art of faking how I feel or react to things.

  My hands reach out and slowly undo the top button of his black shirt. He doesn’t rush me, merely watches me with those dark, woodsy eyes. I have never really taken him all in because every time I’m around him, I want to run in the other direction.

  Now I understand why.

  He has control, and he’s a master at it.

  And I’m not one to give up control freely, unless I’m being paid, but even then, I’m still in full control, it’s just that the client doesn’t realize it.

  “What do you see?” he asks.

  I’ve gotten to the second to last button, and as I undo it, I want to step away. His gaze hits me hard, and it’s not his normally distant one. This one is trying to assess me, to see me differently, and I don’t know if I want him to.

  “Your shirt,” I reply, knowing full well that is not the answer he’s looking for.

  His hand covers mine as I reach the last button. “Not in the shirt, in me.” His finger touches under my chin and he lifts it so we can make eye contact. “Tell me…what do you see?”

  “A man.”

  He scoffs at my words. “That was too easy, give me something.”

  “A desperate man,” I clarify, and instantly I regret those words when his face changes from calm and somewhat happy to frustrated.

  “Desperate,” he hisses between his teeth. He bites his lip as he scans my features.

  Is this what he did with those women he’s killed? Asked them trick questions, then fucked them…then killed them?

  “Do you plan to kill me?” I can’t help the words from slipping from my mouth.

  Lucas’ lips turn up in a smirk as he reaches for something in his trousers and pulls out a gun. He brings it to my neck and holds it in place. “Now, why would I do a stupid thing like that?” My breathing has picked up while his nostrils flare, but I don’t move an inch. “Interesting.” He hums, dragging the gun down my bare body until it reaches the space between my legs. “Do you want me to touch you there?”

  I’ve never actually had head. Can you believe that? Most men are selfish lovers, and they pay me so they can be selfish. So when he pushes the barrel of the gun onto my clit, I suck in a deep breath. Then he starts rubbing it back and forth, the movement makes me clench my hands with the friction from the cold metal.

  Lucas leans in to kiss me, but I turn my head at the last minute, so he’ll kiss my cheek. He doesn’t kiss it, though. Instead, he bites my flesh, marking me, then drags his mouth down to my shoulder blade and bites that too.

  “Lucas.”

  “No.” He stops, the gun still in place. The friction is gone, but his mouth hovers over my tits. “You can call me Daddy.”

  My face scrunches at his words.

  He moves the gun ever so slightly, then blows on my nipple, making it peak even more.

  “God.” I try to push forward to get more from him. How is he making my body so reactive? It must be the shots of alcohol, it’s the only reason I can think of.

  It has to be.

  “If you want more, you have to use your words.” He pulls away from me, and my body is suddenly cold, then he blows on my nipple again to tease me.

  “Do you plan to hurt me?” I ask another legitimate question, one that is plaguing my mind, but my body is still high from his touch.

  “Only when you ask for it.”

  Fuck, I think I just drooled, and not from my mouth either.

  “Daddy.” It falls from my lips, and the smirk that pulls on his would make me drop my panties, literally. There is no denying Lucas is a gorgeous man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as good-looking. He has the perfect jaw structure, eyes that could pin you with one glance, and that body? Yes, I’m eagerly waiting to see more of it.

  “I’ll reward you now.” He drops to his knees, puts his face between my legs, and his tongue—the one I hated just weeks ago because of the way he spoke to me—is now doing unholy things to me.

  And I love every second of it.

  His hands grip my hips, the gun now lying on the floor next to him, as he holds me to his face. He kisses my pussy, like I am something to savor, something delicious, something decadent. I’ve never had a man go out of their way to please me before.

  When I first became a prostitute, I fucked outside of work, but I never got off.

  I thought the problem was me.

  But, clearly, I am mistaken. Because with just a few moments of him between my legs I can feel something building that I haven’t felt before. My legs feel sh
aky, and my head drops backward as I look up at the ceiling. His tongue works in slow, circular motions around my clit, and one hand moves between my legs as he slides two fingers into my very, very wet pussy.

  He makes a humming sound, and I come undone, right there with his face buried in my pussy. I feel him move, but I’m so stuck on that emotion, that feeling, that ecstasy that I can’t even fathom saying or doing anything right now.

  Is it always this good?

  What have I been missing out on?

  “That was fucking hot.” Lucas stands and my eyes find him. He removes his shirt, displaying a chest completely covered in ink. He’s toned, ridges upon ridges and sharp egdes—his body is absolutely perfect in all the ways possible. If you could dream of something perfect, it would be him. My hand lifts to reach out to him, and he flinches back a little at my touch but manages to stay still as my hand lays on his chest.

  “What do they mean?” I ask, looking at the tattoos.

  He motions to the one in the center. “It’s my family crest.”

  I trace my fingers along it until I get to the lion that covers his arm.

  “Most have meaning, but some are there simply because I love the pain.”

  My hand drops to the one at the waistband of his trousers—a whole bunch of letters.

  “Chase’s initials will be added soon.” My gaze lands on his face again, and I see he’s trying to read me. But that’s impossible, because apart from the high I’m still experiencing, I don’t feel the need to judge. And that’s a new feeling for me when it comes to him.

  “Who are you?”

  He smirks at my words. “As I said, you can call me Daddy right now.” He lifts me up and throws me on the bed. I bounce, my tits jiggling, and I manage to lift my head in time to see him taking off his pants.

  Well, fuck.

  My eyes go wide when I see his cock spring free.

  He’s big—bigger than Chase and any of my clients. Oh God, I really shouldn’t have thought that. But I can’t help the giggle that leaves my mouth at the thought.