Seven Sexy Sins

by Serenity Woods

  She felt strangely euphoric, in spite of the fact that she knew this was the last time they’d ever make love. It was as if the future had vanished and there was only the here and now, and the here and now was wonderful. Rusty Thorne sat on her sofa in only his boxers, red hair falling across his forehead, looking at her the way he looked at Roman architecture, with a sense of wonder, as if there was nothing more beautiful in the whole world.

  Elton John’s “Sweet Painted Lady” came on the iPod, and Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Seems appropriate.”

  She came closer to him, still dancing in his T-shirt. “Are you calling me a tart?” He continued to stare at her, eyebrow raised, and she started laughing, grasped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled it off. She continued to dance, naked, and linked her hands on the top of her head, singing to the music as she swayed around the room.

  Rusty said nothing, still watching her, sighing occasionally, and eventually she took pity and went over to him. She sat astride him, on his thighs, and took his hands in hers.

  “Are you sure about this?” She kissed his fingertips. “It won’t be easy.”

  “I’m sure.” His eyes were a rich green in the candlelight, like emeralds, glittering in the flickering flames. He linked his fingers with hers. Again, she felt a swell of euphoria, of pleasure that he was there, all hers for the next hour or so, completely under her control.

  She slid a little more down his thighs, widening her own, but not quite touching his body. “Tantric sex is actually a discipline which should be developed over weeks and months. We can’t really do it justice tonight. But we can try out a couple of its techniques.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s about building sexual energy, abstaining from orgasms and letting the energy circulate back into the body.”

  “Ah.”

  “Don’t look so disappointed,” she said, nose crinkling. “I said we’d adapt it for tonight. I’ve made up my own rules.”

  He laughed, and she felt a surge of affection for him. Poor Rusty. Deep as an ocean, seething and restless, confused and hurting. She wanted to hug him to her, draw out all his pain, but all she could do was show him how much she loved him.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She wriggled until she felt relaxed and then put her arms around his neck, leaning on the back of the sofa. “Now, one key thing here is to keep eye contact. I think it’s going to be weird at first, but it’s important because there’s no hiding when you’re looking into each other’s eyes, and tonight’s about baring our souls, sweetheart.”

  For the first time he looked wary, but he said, “Okay.”

  She took off her watch and placed it on the back of the sofa, where she could see it without having to move. “Right. Five minutes, ish. And the first thing we’re going to think of is how we felt about each other before we got together.”

  “Okay,” he said again. She’d wondered whether he might find this amusing, and make some joke, but he didn’t. He seemed relaxed and calm, his arms around her, his fingers linked behind her back.

  She settled herself. And then she looked into his eyes.

  She’d always thought they were green. And they were, generally, but for the first time, up close, she saw how many other colours were within them, like an Impressionist painting. Around the pupils, which were large and sucked in the light like black holes, were rings of sand-coloured yellow, surrounded by dark green petal-shapes, as if his glassy orbs reflected two sunflowers. Beyond the dark green petals was a cloudy blend of yellows and greens, but also flecks of blue and brown, and, right at the edge, tiny sparkles of gold.

  She thought back to the time she first met him. He hadn’t changed that much, still long and lean, more muscular now, still as restless, still as hot and sexy. She remembered how she used to sit on the low wall fronting her parents’ house while the boys played soccer and rugby and basketball out front, Dan, Rusty, Toby and several others. Her eyes had always fallen on the lad with the red hair, who seemed a tad more serious than the others. He’d laughed and joked with them, but he’d sometimes turn up with a bruise or a scrape that she knew wasn’t caused by falling off a skateboard, because his eyes would be dark and broody. She’d wanted to go up to him and kiss the frown between his eyes until it went away, but she’d never been brave enough, and besides, he’d usually had a girl hanging around. Sometimes she’d found her gaze straying to them when they kissed, and she’d watched with envy, ashamed to be prying. But she’d been unable to tear her gaze away from where he’d cupped the girl’s head possessively, and the way he’d pressed himself against her, making the girl giggle and push him away playfully. She’d dreamed at night about how it would feel to be that girl, having Rusty kiss her, press himself against her, lying hot and frustrated in her bed. Was it possible she’d been in love with him her whole life?

  She thought about her eighteenth birthday, how he’d dragged her under the lemon trees and kissed her, and automatically her gaze dropped to his lips. They started to curve, as if he’d guessed what she was thinking about. He smiled, and she smiled back, wondering if he was seeing the scene playing before him, as she was, the smell of lemons and mandarins in the air, the warmth of the night wrapping around her like his arms, his lips cool on hers.

  She shifted, knowing her smile had turned into a frown. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. His eyes remained calm, however, soothing her, and she sighed and settled. Her eyes flicked to the watch. More than five minutes had already passed.

  She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. “Now we’re going to think about the last few weeks,” she said, her voice husky. “I want you to think about each sin, and about what we’ve done, and how you’ve felt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rusty nodded. He felt relaxed and calm at last, the most relaxed he’d felt all week. Like he’d come home, that this was where he belonged, sitting there on the couch with Faith on his lap, her body warm in his arms, her beautiful brown eyes locked on his. He knew brown irises were the most common type in the world, but there was nothing common about Faith’s eyes. The colour of polished mahogany, they had a strange pattern of light brown circles he’d never noticed before. They reminded him of tree rings, dissected by reddish-brown lines radiating out from the centre, making him think of sunlit trees, dappled leaves and forests in autumn. They were such a warm colour, which didn’t surprise him, as he was sure the warmth of her personality radiated out through them.

  He began thinking about their journey over the past few weeks. Watching porn in the motel, Faith moving on top of him so erotically, the DVD of the two girls in the background. He remembered how worried he’d been, but she’d taken him in hand, literally, recognising he needed to be talked into it, knowing even then what he needed and how to make him feel better.

  He thought about the first time they’d gone down on each other, and how he’d watched her in the moonlight, filled with awe at her beauty. Was that the point he’d fallen in love with her? Or had it begun long ago, with the moment she stood in front of him in her bikini, only fifteen years old, but hot as a model, with her taunting, saucy eyes?

  The song changed, and he began thinking about the time at the lake, when she’d gone to all that trouble with the food, spending hours tempting him with oysters and figs and Lord knew what else. He knew the exact moment she thought about the Mars Bar, because a flush appeared on her cheeks and she lowered her gaze for a second, and he laughed, loving the way he could make her blush in retrospect. They kept giggling for a while, but he kept his eyes locked on hers, determined that he wasn’t going to be the one to break the spell.

  He thought about how she’d stripped for him at the hotel, and how she’d driven him to the edge afterward. It had been the first time he’d realised how hot she was, how much she understood what he wanted in bed. It had been a revelation, his first eureka moment, and the thought now made him wish he were back there, with
three sins still to go.

  Her eyes glittered with amusement, and he knew she was thinking about the handcuffs. He gave her an exasperated look and she laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on the nose, the first time she’d touched her lips to him since she’d climbed on him. He sighed, and then their gazes met and he knew she was thinking about the beach house, and all the fun they’d had. And how she’d taken him by the hand and led him toward the darkness, and kept him safe when he feared he was going to be overwhelmed.

  And now the seventh sin had arrived, and his time with her was nearly over. His own regret was mirrored in her eyes, but she smiled, moving forward a little more so she was just brushing his boxers.

  “Okay,” Faith said softly. “The next step is about exchange of breath. We need to keep our breathing in sync. You breathe out, I breathe in, and vice versa. That way our energies are intertwining.” She waited again for him to make a joke, but he still appeared to be taking this seriously, because he didn’t move, his arms and hands warm on her skin.

  Between her legs, she could feel he was erect and ready for her, but he didn’t try to press it against her. He was going to wait for her. How sweet.

  Tipping her head so their lips were almost touching, she breathed out slowly through her mouth, and then breathed in, watching his ribs rise and fall in response.

  The music changed, and she sighed, which he drank in, returning it to her with an exhalation. Her hands rested on the back of his head, and she stroked his short hair with her thumbs.

  Close up, she could see every detail on his skin. The small chickenpox scar on his cheek. He’d shaved that morning, and now had a slight hint of stubble on his chin. If she were to move her face against his, it would burn her skin, making a slight rasping sound. His lips were slightly apart, the bottom fuller than the top, his straight teeth just visible. His breath smelled sweet, of biscuit and tea, and mint—he’d brushed his teeth before he came to visit her. The thought made her soften like butter on a radiator.

  She couldn’t help it—she moved a millimetre closer. Their lips weren’t touching, and yet she could feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, as if their shadows were reaching out to kiss. He still hadn’t moved, his gaze moving slowly over her face, as if he were drinking in the sight of her, trying to commit her to memory.

  Their breaths were deepening, but still coordinated, and she felt as if she were drawing his energy into her body, sucking him into her lungs, oxygenating her blood with him, feeling him speed through her veins. Gradually, she became acutely conscious of every inch of their bodies in proximity to each other. The fact that her nipples were just brushing the hairs on his chest. The slight dampness of his hair beneath her fingertips. The soft stroking of his fingers on her back—when had he started doing that? The fact that, once again, her moisture was dampening the silky material of his boxers, her sex beginning to ache, so aware of the hardness of his body just an inch away from it.

  Part of her wanted to pull him toward her, press her lips frantically to his, push aside his boxers and let him slide all the way up her, but the other part was desperate to make this last. This might be the final time he ever touches you. The thought made her want to weep, but she kept the tears in check, knowing she had to keep calm, keep the emotion at bay.

  She moved the final few millimetres closer. Now her breasts touched his chest, and his erection pressed against the soft dampness of her, making her sigh. Their lips brushed gently, sending a shiver running down her spine like cool water. He moved his hands up a little, his palms against her ribs, brushing her skin with his thumbs.

  She gave in and kissed him softly, leading the way. First of all she used just her lips, and then eventually opened her mouth and ran her tongue lightly across his bottom lip, reminding herself of the first time he’d kissed her, in the car. He replied with a sigh and did the same, and they deepened the kiss, but kept it slow and languid, concentrating on the feel and taste of each other’s mouths.

  Eventually, however, she couldn’t help but move forward a little closer, and pressed against his erection more firmly, conscious of the cool material between them. Her soft skin parted to welcome him and exposed the sensitive spot, gently arousing her as she moved her hips from side to side.

  Rusty sighed and his hands slid farther up, coming around to cup her breasts. For a moment he just held them, not moving his fingers, his skin warm on hers, and then as she arched her back, he brushed his thumbs across the swollen skin of her nipples, causing them to tighten into tiny buds that he rolled gently between his fingers.

  Faith gasped and lifted her head. Desire lit her nerve ends, exploding within her like fireworks. He stopped and slid his hands back to her ribs, and she exhaled, not missing the slight curve of his lips. He liked knowing exactly how to arouse her, gradually, as if he were cultivating a garden, teasing the seed of her desire, watching it shoot through her, gaining great satisfaction as it flowered into a thing of beauty.

  She kissed him again, and this time he pressed her closely against him, their passion beginning to grow. She moved her hips, and slid her hands through his hair, tightening her arms around his shoulders.

  He held her around the waist, moved toward the edge of the sofa and stood. Lifting her easily, he held her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her through into the bedroom, climbed onto the bed, turned and lay on his back. She stretched out along him, revelling in the feel of his hard, muscular body against hers.

  She kissed him for a while, and he played with her breasts again. When she lifted herself on her hands, he covered her nipples with his mouth, going from one to the other, then back again, arousing her with teeth and tongue until she began to wriggle in earnest against his silk-covered erection. Eventually she lifted herself off him for a moment, and he slid his boxers off. She climbed back onto him and leaned over him. Widening her thighs, she moved down until she could feel the tip of him enter her, pushing aside her swollen lips.

  She slid down him slowly, feeling him stretch her apart until he filled her up. He sighed loudly, and she knew she must be slippery and hot, a velvet sheath around him. She sat upright, and he watched her as she began to move. Every now and again, she bent and kissed him, and he stroked her body, worshipped it with his hands and mouth, until they reached a point where they could no longer hold back the rising tide.

  He turned her carefully until she lay under him, and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down with such an expression of love that emotion tumbled through her like a tidal wave, breaking down the carefully constructed defences she’d tried to erect.

  “Come on sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her. “Wrinkle your nose and screw up your eyes the way you do when I know you’re going to come.”

  “Don’t embarrass me.” Her cheeks grew hot at his amused, affectionate gaze.

  “I like embarrassing you. I like the fact that I can make you blush all over.” He kissed her again. “Go on, love. Come for me one last time.”

  One last time. The phrase tipped her over the edge, and tears came in a rush that surprised her. He didn’t stop, though. He kissed them away as they leaked from the corners of her eyes, and continued to move inside her. Even though she was upset, the sensations in her thighs and abdomen continued to build. Gradually she felt the familiar approach of her orgasm. It crept through her, beginning with a slow ripple like a stone dropped into a pool, causing a wave that radiated out from deep in her belly, down through her sex. It became a rush, and then everything tightened, and she knew he was watching her with satisfaction as she squeezed her eyes shut, the pulsing in her muscles almost too intense to bear.

  He hooked one hand under her thigh to bring up her knee, plunging deep inside her, and as she finally opened her eyes with a gasp, she looked up to see his gaze fixed on her as he reached his own climax. He held her tightly, his eyes unfocussed, pushing deeper and deeper into her, and she could only lie there and watch with longing as he poured his love into her, saying her name
, until eventually he was spent, and the wave turned into small ripples, and back to calm.

  And then it was done.

  Faith lay looking up at the ceiling and tried desperately to stop crying, biting her lip as he breathed deeply close to her ear. He lifted his head and looked at her. Withdrawing, he rolled off her and sat up.

  He got off the bed and went out into the living room, and she pushed herself upright, wiping her face free of tears. He always hugged her after making love, and a cold sliver of panic slid into her stomach.

  A few seconds later, he was back. He’d tugged on his jeans, and he was holding his T-shirt in his hand. She sat back against the headboard, her arms around her knees, feeling vulnerable without any clothes.

  He looked at her for a moment before concentrating on turning his T-shirt the right way out before putting it on. Faith looked away, reached for her bathrobe, and pulled it on quickly. She wasn’t about to have this conversation naked. It reminded her suddenly of Ripley in Alien, climbing into a spacesuit at the end before she faced the creature. Why had that jumped into her head?

  Rusty shoved his hands in his pockets. The sulky, angry look had returned to his face. She stood and tried not to think about the fact that her thighs were wet from his lovemaking and she could really do with visiting the bathroom.

  “So,” she said calmly.

  The muscles of his jaw were knotted hard. “I don’t want you to talk about that on your website.”

  She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It was personal, private. Nothing to do with anyone else. I don’t want you going into detail for all the world to see.”

  She cleared her throat. “I understand how you feel, and of course I won’t go into detail. But I do have to talk a little bit about the method. It’s part of my job, Rusty. You did agree to that, when you signed the contract.”