Sin

by M. Malone

  His lips over my skin were urgent, hot, and destructive. He nipped and sucked, and I knew I would be covered in stubble burn and hickeys if he kept that up, but I didn’t care. I wanted his mark on me.

  I knew I was losing it, forgetting what I’d come into Blake Security to do. Getting this close to any target was dangerous. I’d seen what had happened with Sabine. I knew what the Family wanted from this guy. But it was as if my body had shoved my brain off a cliff and had no intention of going after it because I wanted him.

  He was big… really big. Considering how tall I was, when we were standing, the guy towered over me. And lying down in the king-size bed in the corner, he still had me practically braced up against the headboard. With a gentle slide of his hand over the nape of my neck, he dragged me down and shifted me so that my head wouldn’t bang into the wood. Then he grabbed the pillow and adjusted it under my neck so I wouldn’t have to strain.

  He was turning me into a raging bonfire, and he still had the awareness to think about me being comfortable. If I couldn’t feel the evidence of his hard length against my thigh, I would have to wonder just how interested he was.

  I knew what he wanted, what he needed. And I needed it too. He had a hand in my hair, the other sliding down my body to the hem of the T-shirt I’d been given to wear. He yanked his lips from mine. His dark eyes bored into mine, asking me the silent question.

  I couldn’t have talked if I wanted to. My throat was constricted from need. So I gave him the only answer I could. I raised my hips and rotated them against the length of him.

  I could only watch in fascination as the muscle in his jaw ticked and he sucked in a deep breath as if trying to get himself under control. Well, I didn’t want him in control. I wanted him to be as desperate and needy and insistent as I was.

  I didn’t know what I was racing toward. I just knew that I needed it. And for some reason, Matthias Weller was the one who knew the way to my destruction, and I was happy to follow him like the pied piper.

  With his gaze on mine, he eased his hand up the T-shirt. Were his hands shaking? When his thumb reached the edge of my simple cotton bra, he closed his eyes again and dropped his head to mine. I could hear him muttering something, but I couldn’t understand what it was.

  I was impatient, desperate, and he was torturing me? The hell he would. I arched my back in a desperate attempt to get him to move his hand. And what do you know? It worked. His large palm encased my whole breast, and I could hear it then: the long, drawn out, “Fuuuck.”

  He squeezed roughly, and I locked my legs around his waist. I didn’t care if his movements were jerky or seemingly unpracticed. I just needed more. More touching from him. There had never been much time for anything like this.

  Relationships, partnerships, sex—when was there time? I’d been so young when Andromeda took me in. I’d been raised to think about nothing but the missions. Survival. And even when I’d gone to normal school—high school—no one had ever made me curious enough. No one had ever made me want to risk everything for a touch before.

  Why this guy? Why this beautiful face, his harsh eyes, and the vivid tattoos peppering his skin? Why did this guy trip my oh-God-yes meter?

  Matthias’s thumb traced over my nipple, and he pinched lightly.

  I let out a low, keening yell, and he immediately swallowed the sound with a kiss, making me almost beg him to do it again just as hard as before.

  With his fingers stroking my breast, his lips on mine, the length of him extended as he insistently rotated his hips into mine, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to move my body, but somehow this, the grinding of our hips against each other in this desperate need to touch and be touched, this felt right.

  He moved his hand out of my hair and slid it down to my waist as if trying to keep me steady, but I couldn’t stop. I needed more.

  He tore his lips from mine and harsh pants ripped out of his throat. “Gemma—”

  “God, please. I just—”

  He kissed me again, and then adjusted his hips so the stiff length of his dick pressed just against my clit and I shuddered. Oh, God, yes. Right fucking there.

  Between kisses he muttered “Fuck. Fuck me. Jesus.” And I knew he could feel what I did; the desperate, echoing need. Even though we were separated by layers and layers of clothing, we might as well have been naked.

  I could envision exactly what he would be doing to me if we had our clothes off. He’d be sliding in and out of me, marking me as his, and staking his claim.

  With a growl, he shifted his body down, kissing along my neck and collarbone gently, careful of my bruises, pausing only to lift my shirt up and over my breast.

  While he was oh so careful with my skin, the same could not be said for the clothes I was wearing. He was none too gentle, and I heard the tearing of stitches of fabric. He paused to stare at the skin that was exposed and swallowed hard again. His gaze skimmed over my skin as if trying to get a picture of what he was seeing and encase it in his memory forever.

  And then he dipped his head. His lips wrapped around a nipple and he sucked through the cotton.

  “Oh God.”

  But he didn’t stay long. I really wanted him to move the cloth aside so I could feel his lips on my bare skin.

  Instead he kissed down my ribs to my stomach, pausing just at the edge of the scrub bottoms I’d been given. “Is—is this okay? Are you sure?”

  He sounded so honest with his deep British accent, his words flowing over me like warm whiskey. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  He nodded. “Good. I’ve always wanted to do this.”

  10

  Matthias

  Gemma trembled in my arms, and I had to grit my teeth against the wave of lust threatening to take over any vestiges of control I had left.

  Waves of ecstasy rolled through me, but I knew there was more. And I was so desperate for it. Desperate to feel her skin beneath mine. I needed whatever was coming next.

  I flushed and I trembled as I warred with myself. There was a part of me that wanted to shred her clothes and rub myself all over her, relishing in the smooth softness of her skin.

  Then there was the other part. The part of me who knew what I was, knew the things I’d seen, understood how tainted I was. She didn’t deserve that.

  But then I met her gaze and I could see the desire, tension, and desperation swirling, and I knew she was just as caught in the inferno as I was. I set my jaw as the decision was made for me.

  Just this once, I could be a human being. I could let myself feel. Please, God. I wanted this so bad. I could give in. I could have her, just this once. Just one time feel what it was like to be normal, to feel something for someone.

  My cock, the fucking twat, twitched against her thigh, and she groaned. I had to steel myself against the sound. A sound full of all the promises. The need churned through my veins like a raging river. I had to have her.

  You don’t deserve her.

  Gemma ground her hips against me. Shit. Fucking focus you wanker. You can do this. Maybe, just maybe, if I could make her feel good, she wouldn’t notice I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

  It was wrong in so many ways, but with the heat surrounding us in a cocoon of lust and need, I didn’t care. But more than that, there was something about this woman that made my body hum. There was something dangerous about her. Something about her that called to something in me that had died a long time ago. It was like my body recognized that she was the only one in the world who understood my tune and knew how to make me sing.

  For years, I’d avoided sex. The tattoos and the piercings were my way of suppressing the urge and the need. The itching desperation to connect.

  Oh, I fucking wanted to, but I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t hurt someone. I knew what happened when I lost even the smallest amount of control. And then there was the little problem of seeing what sex did to people. They would kill for it. Imprison another person over it.

  Now, I finally understoo
d.

  Despite everything I knew, I still needed to know what she felt like. Even if this was nothing but a frenzied fantasy in the middle of a nightmare, for an hour I could pretend that I was normal. I could forget my past and who had forged my existence.

  I could fight it all I wanted, but I had to have her. I couldn’t help the reverent whispers of her name as I kissed her, touched her, whispered words that stoked the fire between us.

  “Gemma—” My voice, thick and gravelly, strained as I kissed down her belly.

  “Please, Matthias. I need this. I need you.”

  My gaze fell on hers as I kissed her soft flesh. “You’re so perfect.” I sat back and groaned as I rearranged my dick. My eyes never left hers. They narrowed as I sucked in a breath. Don't fuck this up, mate. You cannot screw this up.

  Gemma sat up on the bed and dragged what was left of the T-shirt over her head. When I mumbled a curse, she smiled.

  What she wasn't prepared for was the speed of my response. With a growl, I flattened her on her back underneath me, still careful of her injuries.

  When my lips met hers again, my kisses held no patience. No gentleness to coax out her response. I took, plundered, and tasted. I demanded her tongue mate with mine. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she answered softly. Her hips rose to meet mine and I growled. I tucked a hand under her ass and shoved her hips forward to align with mine. Kissing her, I let my hands roam freely, running them through her hair, over her face, back to her breast. They were so goddamn perfect. I wanted to lick one. Suck one.

  When I lowered my mouth to one of the stiff peaks, she threw her head back and moaned.

  I could only watch her in awe as heat suffused my body, making my skin tingle. “I didn’t know... Complete perfection.”

  With rough, jerky movements, I dragged her scrub bottoms off and her underwear with them. All thought ceased as I moved my lips down her torso, gently kissing her bruises to her belly button. I pursed my lips and gently blew a heated caress along the top of her mound.

  And then my tongue found her slick folds, and I lost any and all tentative hesitation. I devoured her.

  Oh. Holy. Hell.

  Heaven, she tasted like goddamned heaven. Sweet, like melted sugar on my tongue. I hadn’t known it would be like this. There was no way to prepare, to block out the emotion and the intimacy. So instead, I felt it all.

  Gemma grabbed two handfuls of my hair and held on. My unrelenting fingers and tongue parted her folds, licking and touching. My thumb traced circles over her clit and she cried out. Then I did the unexpected, running my tongue down her slit to her dewy core, then using my tongue to fuck her.

  “Jesus. Oh my God.”

  “So good,” I muttered with a guttural growl. This wasn’t enough. This would never be enough.

  She answered me with a breathy, “Y-yes, more. Please, more.” But the words were strangled in her throat.

  I stopped lapping and went back to lazily stroking her clit, teasing her. Shit, at least I hoped that was the clit. I’d had extensive anatomy classes when I was with ORUS, including the anatomy of the female form, in the off chance that I had to use other methods to make someone cooperate.

  No. Stop thinking. Be here. With her. She was untouched by my other life and I wanted to keep it that way.

  Impatiently, she wiggled against me, and I muttered a curse. She wanted more. And Jesus fuck I wanted to give it to her. But could I have enough control? Would I even know what I was doing?

  She raised her hips again. I slid one thick finger inside then nipped at her clit with my teeth. Her orgasm hit her hard, making her legs clamp around my head as she thrashed.

  I scooted up her body, keeping up the motions with my finger. My lips pressed to hers again, and I curved my finger until I found the little bundle of nerves inside.

  As she bucked beneath me and I swallowed her moans, I couldn’t help the rock of my hips against her thigh. As I drove her over the cliff of ecstasy, tingles chased up my spine.

  Oh shit. What the fuck was happening?

  You’re coming dipshit. You know that thing you do in the shower sometimes? This is what it feels like with a girl.

  Only about a million times better.

  This was supposed to be about her, and I was fucking coming? But it was too late to stop it. Instead I pressed hard against that bundle and dragged another screaming shudder from her. For the time being, she was mine, and I owned every part of her until the dawn stole her away.

  Gemma

  I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that. Me, naked and limp beneath him, my arms wrapped around his strong back, my nails digging into his flesh. Him, his sweatpants still on, now soaked with my fluids and some of his own.

  A part of me knew I should be embarrassed, but I wasn’t. Somehow, his big body shielding me from the cold seemed right. It seemed like I was always meant to be beneath him.

  What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t know this guy. A few days ago he could have killed you. Hell, he almost had. I knew exactly what kind of monster lay inside him, but I didn’t care. Not at that moment.

  Oh, but he will.

  I wasn’t sure if he could sense the change in me, but his breathing changed. The long, easy breaths against the crook of my neck now became a little choppier as if he was trying to control his breathing, trying to stay calm, but freaking out.

  Okay, so maybe you should freak out. After all, we’d essentially dry-humped like a couple of teenagers, though it’s not like I’d ever done that as a teenager. And then he’d gone down on me. Like really gone down on me. Like, enjoyed the hell out of himself going down on me.

  And, well, yeah, I’d come. So there was that. And now he was freaking out. As you should be. But for some reason I wasn’t, and I was disappointed that he was. When he drew back, his gaze met mine briefly before skittering away.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was low. Growly. Like he’d just spent the last hour doing—well, yeah … what we’d been doing.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just—”

  “I’m going to get cleaned up. You should go back to the infirmary.”

  I frowned. “Wait, what? The infirmary? So you’re kicking me out?”

  He shook his head and frowned. “No, I just… just give me a second.” He ran his hands through his hair and pushed himself up over me before climbing out of the bed. I could only watch his broad back and the way the muscles played as he moved and went to the bathroom. I heard the water running, and he came back with a washcloth. For a moment, I thought he’d hand it to me. But instead, he brushed his fingertips over my belly then tucked the warm, wet cloth against my center. He was efficient about cleaning me but gentle too.

  I’d been wet from what he’d done to me, but he also made quick work of wiping away the stickiness on my thigh. And then he turned his back to me and stood. “You’re cleaned up now. You should probably get dressed.”

  The hell I would. “No. What the hell just happened here? You don’t want to get in bed?” I hated that sound. The question in my voice, the pleading—that sound came from the Gigi part of me. I wanted nothing to do with Gigi. Gigi was weak. Gigi was scared. Gigi was vulnerable. Gemma was not. Gemma was a fighter. Gemma was impervious to pain. Gemma was a survivor. “I asked you a question. Are you just going to kick me out?”

  He’d gone back into the bathroom, and I heard shuffling in there. Then he came back out with the towel wrapped low around his hips.

  “Oh my God.”

  He looked good in his sweats, but he looked even better in a towel.

  “It’s not that I want you to go. I just… ” He frowned. “I just think it’s better.” He flushed deep crimson and kept his gaze averted from mine.

  Oh shit, he was embarrassed. Quickly, I grabbed the scrub bottoms I’d been given, and slid into them. I was only slightly self-conscious about my nudity. Andromeda had taught me early that there might come a day when I had to fight naked. So for the most pa
rt, I didn’t care. But when I slid my tattered T-shirt back on, I felt like I had a shield.

  “Listen, I know that this is maybe awkward or whatever, but I don’t know. I felt a connection to you. When I woke up, you were the first face I saw. I don’t know what just happened—” I looked at him then back toward the bed. “—or why you wouldn’t make love to me, but I’d like it maybe if you held me for a minute.”

  He frowned. His hands trembled and he braced one of them in the doorway. His knuckles turned white as if he was holding on to keep from coming toward me and touching me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? A minute ago, you just told me how beautiful you thought I was. And if that’s changed now that you’ve touched me…” I let my voice trail. Jesus Christ, he was blowing me off. And here I was, begging. This was far worse than when he’d tried to kill me. At least that guy was honest. Direct. Clear. This one, I couldn’t read.

  “That’s not—” He took a deep breath. And then I could see it, as if a mask was going over his face. “Look, love, I’m just not good, okay?”

  Somehow, watching him slip the mask on stung more because I thought I could connect to the version of him who at least was open. This version was impenetrable. “Fine, I’ll go.” I turned to leave, and my gaze found the desk by his bookshelf near the door. In the corner, there was a stuffed toy that was worn and tattered, but there were stitches sewn into one of the little feet. My stomach lurched.

  No. No fucking way.

  Behind me, I heard shifting. “Gemma look, this is just safer for you. I—”

  I whirled on him. “Where did you get that?”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  I pointed at the stuffed, worn Tigger toy. Long ago, Matt had stitched it up for me when it had gotten caught on a nail. “That. Are you Matt? Are you him?”