I Am Dressed in Sin: A Reverse Harem Age Gap Romance (Death By Daybreak Motorcycle Club Book 2)
Page 18
“You were fifteen,” Sin growls right back at me. His pupils are dilated. With all the blood on his face, he looks like a monster. “I was twenty-three; I remember. You are not the only person that lost someone that day.” He releases one of my hands, as if to see what I might do with it. “There were six Daybreakers outside of that house. And only then because Crown demanded it. Your father didn’t think we needed anyone at all. The mafia had left town. We’d destroyed one of their warehouses outside the city limits. We were testing every limit they had, Gidge. They should’ve had better things to do that day.”
I reach up and rub my thumb across his mouth, swiping away the majority of the remaining blood. He shudders in a way that’s impossible to fake. He wants me, always has. It makes me wonder if, that first day that I noticed him as more than another random Daybreaker, if that’s when he noticed me as well. It freaked him out. It’s still freaking him out.
“Those men were somebody’s husbands, their fathers, their sons, my brothers.” Sin keeps watching me to gauge my reaction to the news. I’m shook. For years, I bitched and railed at anyone who would listen. I cried and I screamed and I demanded answers. They all let me do it, and they said nothing. Because I was too young to understand. Because I was Cat’s daughter, a doll to be kept on a shelf. “More of them are going to die today. This week. For months to come, probably.”
“Not if we go to Reba’s house,” I insist, wondering what, exactly, might’ve happened to good ol’ preacher Wesley and his closet-alcoholic wife. Nothing good, I imagine. “You don’t understand what happened between me and Grey—”
Sin releases my other wrist, but only so he can clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t,” he breathes out, and now he’s shaking, too. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”
He thinks … that I’m in love with Grey? That’s what they all thought. It makes sense. They just don’t … they don’t understand. Our siblings loved one another so deeply that it’s left a ripple in the world, this little tear inside of me that matches up to Grey. Kian and Queenie gave up their one and only chance at this life for the slimmest possibility of being together. We owe them the gift of a life fully lived.
So I need to do this.
I need to save Reba.
I need to punish the mafia.
I need to punish Cat.
You son of a bitch, I think, hating him at the same time that I love him. It’s always been there for me and my father, a kind of love-hate that you don’t often read about. He cares about me like a father. I love him like a daughter. And yet, he’s a bad man who does horrible things, and I’m an untamable hellion that he can’t stand to be around. This is your fault. Why did you kill Kian? Why couldn’t you have just let Queenie have one, nice thing that didn’t also match up with your wants and needs?
Sin’s bloody fingers slide down my lips, leaving the copper taste of him on my mouth.
“Grey and I have the same shape hole inside of us.” I point at my chest as Sin watches. “He lost his brother; I lost my sister. His family let him be born ruined. Mine did the same. We grew up in blood and pain and politicking. We’re the same person, Sin. But all that time I was there, I never felt about him the way I feel about you.”
Sin doesn’t move from where he is, straddling my thighs. I put both of my palms on his hips. I want more than anything to unzip his fly and let his heavy cock fall into my palm. Put my lips to the tip. Flick my tongue and watch him squirm.
We just don’t have the time or leisure for any of that right now.
“I always wanted to pretend I was a princess with an honor guard.” I slide my palms along the front of his jeans and he groans, letting his head fall back as I graze my hands across the hard bulge of his cock. “You’ve given that to me. You chose me over the club. All my life, I’ve wished for someone to give that gift to me.” Here’s where I pause, because this isn’t ‘just’ about getting out of here to help Reba. This is everything. The final nail in Cat’s coffin. I’m taking his best men for myself. “If you’re still worried about covenants or whatever, just know that Beast and I have an understanding—at least for now.”
Sin lifts his head up to look at me. He’s wary, as he should be, but we both hold the keys to one another’s destruction. That breeds a certain sense of trust.
“I know all about that understanding,” he tells me carefully, eyes flicking toward the door. It remains closed and locked. Carefully, he extracts his phone from his pocket, looking for updates. Whatever he sees must satisfy him because he tosses it onto the opposite end of the couch. “But I can’t do it. Let myself have you, and then watch you build a life with someone else. That doesn’t work for me.”
“Whoever said I was planning on building that life without you?” I query back as he studies me. I may have actually broken his nose, considering the amount of blood. He watches me so warily, like he doesn’t trust my motives. As he shouldn’t. I’m going to get to Reba’s regardless of his opinion on the matter.
He moves as if to stand up from the couch when I reach for his belt buckle. My fingers have just barely brushed it when he’s shoving me back into the dusty cushions, stirring more motes, more evil spirits to watch over us.
Sin strips his belt systematically and then, with hot angry movements, he turns me over and puts my ass in the air. My breath escapes in a rush. We don’t have a lot of time here, but a quick fuck won’t change anything. At the very least, it’ll calm his ass down. But, much to my shock and horror, he wraps the belt around my wrists and pulls tight.
“What are you doing?!” I choke out, fear spiking through me. “Sin, you can’t keep me here. You don’t understand. You’re not listening.” I’m kicking at him, but it’s too late. I let my guard down at the idea of sex just like he did that day outside of the cabin. “Colton!”
He yanks on my arms just hard enough that I cry out, trapped beneath his knee with my wrists behind my back. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“You are not leaving this basement. Period. End of discussion. We can talk about the other shit later.” He adjusts himself, but the crux of the situation remains: he’s on top of me using his bodyweight to pin me down, and my wrists are bound behind my back. Getting out of this is going to prove tricky.
“Reba is the last sister I have left,” I whisper, furious tears filling my eyes. “She’s one of the only people left in this world who loves me for me. Despite my bullshit. Despite my smart mouth. Despite the club.” I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to believe that Sin, the youngest, prettiest, and seemingly kindest one of them all, will be the final lynchpin that I can’t get past.
He relaxes his hold on my wrists just enough that my shoulders can relax, and I let out a small sound of relief.
“And Grey?” he clarifies, because he’s just not getting it. I can understand, empathize even. If he were fighting me tooth and nail to defend a mafia girl whose family had killed his sister, well then, I wouldn’t be any different.
“We have an understanding,” I reiterate. “He’ll have left a message for me at Reba’s house. Whatever it is, it could save her. It could save the entire club, Sin.” That has to be enough, right? The club matters to him.
Just not as much as I do.
“Those three months were the worst of my entire life,” he says softly. If I could look back at him, I would, just to see what sort of expression goes along with a tone crafted of melancholy and nostalgia. He laughs then, and it’s an ugly, bitter sort of sound. “And trust me: I’ve been through some shit.”
“Don’t tell me you missed little ol’ me?” I joke, but the sound is broken slightly by the tension. There are bombs being detonated. Grey had a gun to Reba’s head. Everything in my life rests on the thin precipice of a lie.
“If you’d left of your own volition, gone off to some stupid art school in Europe or something, I could’ve lived with that. But knowing that you’d chosen their side? That I had no idea what you were going to be like when we found you? If
we found you. There were worse possibilities. You being dead. Being sold. Being …” He trails off here, and I test my bindings, but they haven’t relented even a fraction.
“I’m not trying to leave, Sin. Take me to Reba’s. Nobody will suspect us of heading there. No one has to know.”
He stays silent for some time after that, but I can hear the sound of his keyboard as he taps out a message on his phone. More waiting. The couch springs groan in protest as he adjusts himself again, sitting up enough that some of the pressure on my body lessens.
“If I take you there …” he starts, and then he’s cursing himself all over again. “Goddamn it, Gidget.”
Then his hot fingers are on my hips, gripping my pelvis in a punishing hold. His body is on me again, but in a different sort of way. He isn’t just sitting on me now. There’s a different sort of intent to his movements. With my cheek pressed into the cushions of the sofa, I let out a sharp exhale and close my eyes.
“If I take you there, you submit to my authority in the club,” he tells me, and I bristle. Submit? Is he serious? He’s like a younger version of Crown right now.
“It isn’t in my blood,” I start, and Sin tugs on the belt again as a warning.
“This isn’t a man-woman thing, Gidget. This is about your safety. I care too much to let you destroy yourself.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
I feel like a cat again, its hair on end, claws out.
“Okay.” See, I can be reasonable, can’t I? “Okay, fine.”
“Beast will meet us at the back gate in ten minutes.” Sin pauses here, his hand snaking lower on my pelvis, stroking over my clit. My breath releases in a rush. Ten minutes. Ten minutes is enough … Then he’s shoving my red dress up my hips and tearing my panties down before discarding them entirely.
The cool basement air teases my bare ass as Sin undoes his jeans. I can hear the sound of the zipper as he pulls it down, and then he’s positioning himself against my already wet cunt. His thighs are on either side of my legs, trapping them together. It’s going to be a tight fit.
“I know you were with Crown last night,” he breathes, putting his mouth near my ear, further trapping my wrists against my back. “I watched him go upstairs, and he never came back down. I hated that. Knowing Mr. Black and White was bending the rules while I held tight to them. I kept asking myself why.”
Sin pushes the tip of his cock against me, making me groan. My fingers twitch, but I still can’t move my arms. Because he has my legs trapped the way he does, there’s so much resistance. It seems at first like he might not even be able to fit.
“Did you …” I start, but then he pushes just a little deeper. A little deeper. Deeper. “… ever find …” Sin thrusts the rest of the way in, his hips slamming against my ass. I can feel him so deep, like he’s stirring up pleasure in my lower belly. I’m forced to relax, even in a compromising position such as this.
“An answer?” he asks, his voice dark and male in a way I’ve never heard it before. “I did.” He pulls almost all of the way out of me and then rocks forward, stroking me in places deep. It’s exquisite torture. “You’re destined to ruin me, Gidge.”
Colton Young gives up any pretense of being nice. Instead, he fucks me hard and furious into the couch. With little outlet for the overwhelming pleasure, I bite down on the couch cushion hard. I’m so tight like this, he has to work himself in with each new thrust, push past the silken walls of my muscles to find my core. And that he does, moving hard and fast and letting me stifle my screams in the dusty sofa.
The similarities between this moment and the one outside the cabin are not lost on me, even as my body stretches to accommodate Sin’s, even as he drives into me with as much anger and fury as Grainger did the other day. Back then, I screwed Sin to escape. Now, he’s doing the same to me.
Only, his escape isn’t physical. It’s metaphorical. For as long as he’s known me, he’s wanted me to take a different path, grabbed my hand and desperately dragged me down it. For almost as many years, I thought I wanted that same path.
I hated the club.
I wanted to leave, to be anywhere but here.
If Sin could, I think he’d boot my ass out—whether I liked it or not. Because love isn’t about simply giving the other person what they want. Sometimes, it’s about denying them their sip of poison.
Sin, he cared enough to let me go; he tried to save me from him, them, this.
All of that, it’s the fantasy he needs to escape from.
He needs to land right back here in reality with me, in this dirty, gritty, dusty basement with my legs pressed together and his thick cock burrowing into me, soaking us both with my own juices. The rocking movement of his body makes my pelvis grind into the couch, taking care of my clit while his hot mouth traces kisses along the side of my neck.
Sin is sucking on my flesh, biting it in such a way that he’ll leave marks. The next person to see me will know that I’ve been fucked good and hard. The next one of the men to see me will know that it wasn’t him that did it.
“I’m still sore from last night,” I breathe, knowing those words are very like to enrage him, to stir up more of that crackling, red-hot passion. They have the intended effect; Sin pauses briefly, and I hear him exhale. He sits up slightly, cracking his hand across my ass.
“Fuck Crown,” is all that he says, and then he’s holding my hips and pounding me so hard that the sound of our bodies coming together fills the shadows of the basement. If I turn my head just slightly to the right, I can see our reflection in the dressing mirror.
His bloodied face. His dark eyes. The way my pale flesh indents beneath his harsh fingers.
His natural scent mixes with the ever-present smell of leather, this spicy musk that makes me writhe. Cinnamon and blood mandarin, touched with a hint of tobacco and cloves.
I stare at the pair of us, my wrists trapped by his belt, my legs trapped by his thighs. My heart … in chains. Shit. It hurts as good as it sounds, just like the crack of his hand on my ass again.
Pleasure creeps up on me quickly and mercilessly, attacking me with each voracious pump of Sin’s hips. The orgasm is almost painful; I actually try to fight it off, thrashing beneath him, hating and loving him all at the same time.
When it finally breaks, like a wave against the shore, I let out a sharp sob of relief. Colton’s response is to press his lips against the side of my neck and bite just hard enough that I thrash back against him.
Ruination.
We were both built for it.
Guess we get to ruin each other.
He works himself to his own crescendo before pulling out suddenly. I can feel the hot heat of his seed on my ass, dripping down my cheeks. Then finally, blessedly, he releases the belt on my wrists.
“You fucker,” I growl at him, turning a look over my shoulder that could kill. Sin meets it with one of his own, tit for tat. We need each other, me and these assholes. We all need to be tempered.
He stays where he is, straddling me, pinning me down with his weight.
“If you disobey me even once outside these walls, Gidge, I swear to god. Once upon a time, I promised I would never give anyone else a second chance. You just got it. Use it wisely.” He climbs off of me, fixing his pants as I sit up and look around for something to clean up with. Sin ends up tossing me an old t-shirt from inside a box.
It takes me a second to recognize it as one of Queenie’s.
“I can’t use this,” I breathe, and Sin very quickly takes it back, staring at the fabric like it’s as much a ghost as my sister is. He quickly finds another bit of fabric to give me and then waits while I wipe him off of me. “Let’s go,” I snap, yanking my dress back down. Sin picks up the panties from the floor and pockets them. Asshole. “Unless you think it’s too early? That clearly didn’t take a full ten minutes.”
He gives me this cocksure smirk that makes me want to slap him.
“Actually, it took eleven. We’re late.”
Here goes nothing.
It’s time to see if my trust in these men is well-founded.
That one time, that night two years ago, it wasn’t.
Sin isn’t the only one giving out second chances that he shouldn’t.
Beast has clothing waiting for me when we arrive at the back gate. He’s sitting on his bike, a black leather duffel bag on his lap. Without a word, he hands it over to me and I excuse myself behind a tree to get changed. While I’m doing so, I can see the men murmuring to one another. I can scarcely imagine what they’re talking about.
That’s sarcasm, by the way.
“I hope you were discussing how tight my pussy is and how lucky you are to have access to it,” I quip as I saunter back over, dressed in leather pants, a long-sleeved black shirt that says Eclipse Cycles on it (Dad’s only legitimate business), and riding boots—all of it secondhand from Posey.
She would absolutely love to see this, me engaged to an officer. Fucking three more of them under Cat’s nose. Hate to say it, but she would’ve been proud. Queenie likely would’ve been horrified.
“We were discussing a mafia bombing, Gidget,” Sin tells me, but he has this look about him that says that wasn’t the only thing they were discussing.
“Baby doll,” Beast drawls, slipping out of his jacket and offering it up to me.
I find myself suddenly rooted to the spot.
It’s … well, it’s a big fucking deal for a man to give his cut or his jacket to a woman. It’s better than a ring. It’s a promise of more. Protection. Care. Sex. Love. That’s what it’s supposed to be anyway. Do I dare take it, especially considering the arrangement we’ve come to?
Sin watches the interaction with an interest so sharp it can only be interpreted as one thing: jealousy.
Carefully, I curl my fingers around the leather and take it from Beast. The man has always—I kid you not—smelled like old books and bergamot nectar. That’s how his jacket smells, too, like a library full of yellowing pages and leather covers, of fresh ink and ancient words. I clutch it against my chest for a moment as our eyes meet.