Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  “Since you’ve been honest with me, it feels only fair that I offer you the same courtesy. I’m going to tell you how it will be between us.”

  Butterflies explode in my tummy. “You’ll tell me?”

  He smiles, his thumbs drawing small circles on the backs of my hands. “I need something from you, Izzy.”

  My muscles twitch with the need to tense. “What?” Something about the way he’s looking at me, unsure and hesitant, is telling me I might not like it.

  Theo rests back on his haunches, his arms suspended between us as he keeps hold of my hands. “I need compliance. Total surrender.” Dark, cobalt eyes sear my skin, his face becoming alive with want. “I will treat you like a queen and fuck you like a whore.” My mouth drops open. He just said that? “And I promise you,” he goes on, ignoring my shock, taking my hand and placing it on his chest, pushing it into the muscle, “you will never be in danger. You will never be afraid again.”

  It’s beyond me, but I just disintegrated. He’s told me he would fuck me like a whore, but he rounded all of that off with a promise. A promise I can’t ignore but wish I could. “I’m afraid of you,” I admit. “Afraid of how you make me feel.”

  “How do I make you feel?”

  The word safe dances on the end of my tongue, but I swallow my confession, looking away. “Consumed.” I’m not lying.

  “I’m with you.” He pushes my hand harder against his chest. “I can give you what you need, Izzy. And I’m hoping you will naturally give me what I need.”

  “Want,” I correct mindlessly. “What you want.”

  His smile stretches, bright and gorgeous. “Trust me, Izzy. I need it.” He gives a little tug of my hand, and I fall to his lap with a tiny gasp. He encases my whole face in his big palms, so tender, but equally possessive. “The first time I touched you, you had me. I’ll never be able to explain how it felt. How it feels now.” His eyes scan my face, his thumbs stroking gently over my cheeks. “My skin on yours, I crave it. But I need controlled environments.”

  “Why?” I ask, accepting his soft kiss on my lips.

  “You need to trust me.”

  I don’t ask for more than that. Just like he hasn’t asked why I need to feel safe, or who has hurt me in my past. I trust him. “Okay,” I agree. I feel like I’m dancing too close to the sun, and, bizarrely, I can’t wait to be burned.

  “Whatever you’ve run away from, Izzy, it can’t touch you as long as I’m here.”

  I don’t appreciate the reminder. “I said okay.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Then please just take me to bed.” I’m done with talking. Wants and needs have been established, and now I just need Theo to own me. To quench the insatiable thirst he’s unearthed. To give me something I’ve never had. Pleasure.

  Chapter 7

  I’m not just taking you to bed.” Theo holds me under my armpits and hauls me up so I’m standing over him while he remains on the floor at my feet. He reaches forward, looking up at me, and curls his palm around my ankle. I jolt violently, fire shooting up my legs and detonating in my chest. Explosions already. I need to grab his shoulders, I need support, but as I lift my arms to reach for them, Theo’s hands fly up and catch my wrists. He looks at my confused face as he gently takes my palms up to his shoulders for me. “Let me,” he whispers, releasing my hands and allowing them to rest on his massive shoulders, closing his eyes as my touch meets his shirt.

  The realization sucker-punches me in the gut. Oh my God. He doesn’t like being touched. I think about the way the members of his staff shift from Theo’s path when he’s near, and I remember every time I’ve gone to touch him myself. He’s caught me and controlled the touch. He’s seen my intention and taken charge of it. Callum giving me a wide berth all those times had nothing to do with me. It’s natural for Theo’s driver/friend/bodyguard to give people space because he does it all the time for Theo. And the butler, Jefferson. He told me to keep my distance. He wasn’t warning me to stay away. He was warning me not to touch Theo. All of Theo’s stealthy, quick moves, the times someone has gone to touch him. He’s expertly avoided them all.

  I stare down at him, flummoxed. He needs controlled environments. Everything about Theo Kane since I met him has been controlled, and now I realize that will extend into the bedroom. He nods a little, seeing my comprehension, and his hands come back to my ankles, instantly replacing my shock with want. His touch doesn’t only make me feel safe. It makes me ache.

  He smiles up at me, then lowers his eyes to my feet. “Like I’ve already told you,” he says quietly, “you had me the moment I touched you.” Lifting one of my feet to his knee, he starts to unfasten my sandal, his fingers constantly skimming the sensitive flesh of my ankle bone, driving me wild. But I wait, knowing it’ll be worth the agony. I had him. My touch. Our skin touching. A little part of me is intrigued, but a bigger part is relieved that he feels the same as me.

  He releases my foot and drops my sandal, collecting my other foot and carefully removing that shoe, too. Once he’s done, both his hands slide around the backs of my calves and he lifts on his knees, bringing him higher, sliding his hands as he goes. He’s looking up at me, working his hands under my dress until he has a possessive hold of my arse. He squeezes, cocking his head a little, pulling me forward so his face is level with my breasts. Then he slowly drags my dress up until my bare flesh is exposed to his mouth. I still and close my eyes, knowing he’s going to come face-to-face with my scars at any second. I’m mentally preparing my go-to answer that I use when I’m asked what happened, feeling his movements falter. He’s seen them. Right now, while I’m hiding in my darkness, he’s staring at the aftermath of my past.

  I wait for him to ask about the marks on my skin, but a few moments later, he still hasn’t. So I locate the courage I need to look down at him, finding him focused on my tummy. Staring. I breathe in shakily as he looks up at me, his face blank. Then he slowly drops his lips to the side of my belly button and licks around the area. My world doesn’t just flip upside down. It spins. And it spins. And it spins and spins and spins. Yet I still see Theo’s face. Clear as day, as bright as I’m sure it has ever been. My head falls back on my shoulders, my eyes closing in complete ecstasy, my gratitude fierce. The gentle swirl of his tongue is just the start of things to come. If this is fucking like a whore, then I’ll sign up for a lifetime’s worth.

  “Izzy,” Theo rumbles, my name sounding like an enticing plea as he kisses his way over my dress, up my throat to my chin as he stands. “We’re worlds apart but so fucking close.” He nibbles up to my lips. “Lift your arms.”

  I raise them, no thought or hesitation, and he pulls my dress up over my head. I go to reach down to his trousers to feel the hardness, bold and daring, or more like desperate. But he seizes my hand in a harsh grip, stilling me.

  “I crave a controlled environment,” he reminds me. “That means you make no movements without my say-so.”

  I groan, not liking the prospect of no free rein over his body. “Please,” I try.

  He shakes his head against my lips. “Trust me.” Picking me up, he carries me to the bed. “Are you clean?” he asks, and I nod my head. “Are you protected?” I nod again, hoping he’ll confirm what I need to ask in return. “Me too.”

  I study him as my head comes to rest on the soft pillow. His face is the softest I’ve seen it, his eyes the bluest, as he removes my bra and knickers painstakingly slowly, casting them aside. He swallows hard as he spends a few rapt moments taking me in.

  Waiting as patiently as I can, fighting to keep my arms by my sides, I watch, breathless, as he starts to strip down. His shirt buttons are unfastened one by one, slowly revealing the chest I’ve imagined constantly. The tattoo I’ve only had a peek of is nowhere to be seen when the two sides of his shirt hang open, but I can see taut skin. Biting down on my bottom lip, I hold my breath and bend one leg, bringing the sole of my foot up and pushing it into the covers, squeezing my thighs together. Li
quid fire surges into my core, my nipples pebbling. His eyes drift slowly from my breasts to my thighs, back and forth as he rolls his shoulders and shrugs off his shirt, letting it float down to the floor.

  Awe slams into me, tangling my mind, and my held breath chokes me. “Oh my God,” I whisper, trying to comprehend the sculpted lines of Theo’s torso. Every muscle is sharp, to the point I’m sure I would cut myself if I were to trace one. Definition so clear, skin so tight, and swells of muscle so hard. My mouth dries as my eyes roam the planes of him in wonder, drifting down to his stomach and the perfect V that leads neatly to his groin. His trousers hang low, a sliver of the waistband of his boxer shorts peeking out. My sights fall onto his hip, where more ink spans the narrow area, and I cock my head a little, trying to fathom what I’m looking at. My eyes shoot up to his when I realize what it is. Praying hands. His face is straight, the muscles of his neck pulsing, and there, cascading down onto his shoulder, is another piece of art. Rosary beads. They drip down his skin, onto the top of his thick arm, and dangling from the bottom is a delicate cross. Theo is still, letting me take it all in, and when he slowly turns away from me, I suck in air. Spanning his wide shoulder blades and sinking down the center of his spine is a crucifix, encrusted and intricate. It’s beautiful, yet almost haunting. The praying hands, the rosary beads, the crucifix. Is he that religious?

  I shift on the bed a little as he comes back to face me, unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down his thighs, taking his boxers with them, before stepping out. His cock springs free, stiff, thick, and long, as stunning as the rest of him. I’ve never seen anything like him. He’s the finest example of God’s creation. There’s not one ounce of fat anywhere to be seen. He’s solid, inconceivably so. One of his thighs is probably thicker than my waist, his legs long and powerful. He looks lethal but beautiful, hard but soft. My body is in chaos, my nerves burning, all in response to what I’m faced with. My want has gone through the roof and desperation is now crippling me. He looks like a warrior, raw and primal. A fighter.

  I look up to him, and he nods a little, as if he knows and accepts what I’m thinking. And then he dips and collects something from the bedside and starts unraveling it in his hands, coming closer to the bed. He gently claims one of my hands, brings it up to the headboard, and starts weaving the silk material around my wrist, secure but not too tight, before connecting it to the post of the bed and tying it, pulling my arm taut above my head. I don’t even fight. Don’t protest or have a smidgen of worry. He needs a controlled environment and he’s going to achieve that by rendering me incapable of movement. You can’t get more controlled than that. He repeats on the other side, all the time gentle, all the time focused. I watch him in fascination, every move he makes, every flick of his eyes to mine to check that I’m okay, and every ripple of his chest as he bends. When he moves down to my legs, I have to lift my head from the pillow a little. He takes my ankles and pulls my legs apart, and I gasp, feeling need dripping between my thighs. His eyes are glued there, his breathing noticeably changing.

  Oh, God. I throw my head back on the pillow, tugging at the straps holding my arms in place. “Theo,” I whisper, feeling him pull my leg, the softness of silk weaving around my ankle. My legs, too? I’ll be totally helpless. He ignores my desperate plea and carries on, tying my other ankle to the opposite side. I’m spread-eagle on the bed, held in place and at his mercy. In my darkness, I manage to silently consider the fact that I don’t need to be strapped to a bed, helpless, to be at Theo’s mercy. Just being close to him sees to that just fine.

  “You look so beautiful,” he rasps, tracing light circles around my ankle bone. I jerk on the bed, the straps pulling taut. His touch is like molten lava, the effect reaching my clit and burning. Theo gasps, and I snap my eyes open, finding him dragging his palm up my leg to my thigh. He stops just south of my entrance, staring at me. I pulse, drinking in air, my eyes wide and wanting. “This,” he rumbles, edging closer and closer to my core. “This perfect wet pussy.” He slips his finger through the moisture, and I yell, yanking at the straps. “It’s mine.” A thick finger pushes forward and sinks into me. Muscles I never knew I had squeeze tightly, and my head thrashes from side to side, hungry and panicked. But I save my breath. I don’t beg, because I know it will get me nowhere. I need to calm down. I need to stop bucking on the bed. That will get me nowhere, too, but he’s teasing me, working me up. Pleasure and pain. The pain is the waiting part.

  Theo’s finger, just one finger, fucks me beautifully, a big palm falling to my breast and squeezing gently. “Open your eyes, Izzy,” he orders, releasing my boob and grabbing my jaw. My eyelids lift, immediately finding his face suspended over mine, lips parted. “I’m going to feast on your nipples, bite and lick, and you’re going to keep still.”

  I shake my head, knowing he’s demanding the impossible.

  “Yes,” he counters. “And if you’re a good girl, if you keep quiet and still, I’ll sink my cock into you and give you what you need.”

  “I can’t take this,” I mumble, feeling emotional and fraught, tugging at my restraints again. I was fine when he started tying me up. Thought I could handle it. I didn’t anticipate my desperation spiraling to these torturous depths. It’s unfamiliar ground.

  “Yes, you can.” Theo pulls his finger free and climbs on top of me, straddling my waist, but not resting all of his weight on me. I’d never take it. His hands placed on the insides of my arms serve as extra restraints, pinning me in place and forcing me into the mattress. He lifts a little, his thick arms braced as he looks down at me. The tip of his cock is skimming my stomach, the head leaking with his desire, smearing across my skin as he gently sways his tight hips.

  He scans my face, deep in thought, humming as he does. His cheeks are shimmering with a light layer of sweat, his dark hair dampening at the roots. “It’s torture, isn’t it?” he says, flexing his hips deeply until his cock falls to my opening. I whimper my answer, unable to keep silent. He smiles a little. “From the moment I touched you, I’ve felt tortured. But it’s the beautiful kind. Addictive. Mind-blowing. I need you to feel how I’ve felt since that night. How senseless with want I’ve felt, how frustrated that you kept resisting me.” He grinds forward a very little bit, breaching my entrance with the tip of his arousal before withdrawing. I slam my lips together, my nostrils flaring. “I’m going to make you wait, Izzy.”

  “No,” I yell, angered by his tactics.

  His hand slaps over my mouth to silence me, his eyebrows arching in warning. “Yes,” he confirms simply, leaning down and biting at my cheek. “Ready to go insane?”

  “Theo, please, I beg you.”

  “I don’t want you to beg me. I want you to feel my desperation. I want you to match it.”

  He drifts down until his mouth is level with my chest, his cock still poised at my entrance. Regret washes through me—regret for denying him, for pushing him away, and regret for surrendering to him now. I’m out of my depth.

  Heat spreads across my right breast, delicious and warm, the pleasure brief before his mouth latches on and sucks hard. With Theo on top of me, it’s impossible to move, but I try my very hardest, bucking and gritting my teeth. He swaps his lips for his teeth and bites down. Pain rips through me, but I suck back my scream, slamming my eyes closed and praying for mercy. The pressure of his bite is harsh, to the point my nerves go numb.

  “Please, Theo, please, I’ll do anything.” My voice is ragged and distressed.

  Swirling his tongue around my suffering nipple, he licks it back to life. “You taste so good.” Another thrust of his groin and a quick, teasing dip of his cock into my wetness reminds me of what I’m begging for.

  “Please,” I gasp, hating the satisfaction he’s getting from my begging. He smirks, victorious, and then lifts from my body and gets up off the bed. I watch, horrified, as his long legs eat up the distance between the bed and the door and he disappears through it. What? He’s leaving me here? Making me wait? Fo
r how long? I lose my shit, flailing on the bed like a deranged woman. “Theo!” I yell, over and over, until my throat is sore and my lungs are burning from exhaustion. I could cry, my emotions getting the better of me. I’ve finally succumbed to him, given in to his allure and relentlessness, and now he’s leaving me here after working me up into a pent-up mass of need? How? How is he doing this, not just to me, but to himself?

  “Theo.” His name is a despondent whisper as I relax my strung muscles and slump on the bed, willing my body to pipe down, to stop singing with craving. I’m exhausted but far from satisfied, tied to a bed in a Vegas hotel room while the man who has infiltrated my head and my life is out there doing…I look at the door. What is he doing?

  Resting my head back, I close my eyes and try not to think of the fact that I actually feel like a whore, though he’s yet to fuck me like one. Is this a game to him? It feels like it, because if he were as desperate as he claims, he’d currently be buried inside me and sating both our needs. I never imagined I’d beg for sex. I never imagined myself at the mercy of a man’s power ever again. Yet there’s something utterly wonderful about being at Theo’s mercy. And his power over me is welcome.

  I don’t know how long I’m here, helpless and longing, but my exhaustion begins to get the better of me, and I start to drift in and out of consciousness. It could be an hour, maybe two. I don’t know, but it feels like a year. My breathing is finally level and my heartbeat normal. I see only Theo in my darkness. I still feel an unfathomable craving hijacking me, even if it’s been doused with a lot of madness. Insane. He said he’d send me insane, and he has.

  The bed dips beside me, stirring me, and I flip my eyes open. Theo is straddling me again, looking down at me quietly. “How painful was it?” he asks. “How frustrating? How much do you want me all over you?”

  “You’ve made your point,” I croak, looking away defiantly.