“But I haven’t finished my beer,” James protested.
Rory ignored him and stood. He held a hand out to help her up. “Nolan’s got a hot tub on the roof. I’ll feed you dinner, and then we can soak in some bubbles until our skin gets all wrinkly.”
“Hot tub?” James shouted. “Can I come?”
“So I can see your fat ass in your Skivvies?” Rory finished off his beer and slammed the empty bottle on the table. “No thanks. The idea is for me to see Morgan in her sexy see-through Skivvies.”
“Are you always such a horndog?” she asked.
Rory stretched his arms over his head until his tight shirt rode up to expose his washboard abs and metal-studded belt. “Sure am. Now come on; let’s go mess with Bastian. I can’t wait to tell him I’m going to get you all hot and wet. I need some entertainment. Wanna bet on how long it takes for him to go all growly on me?”
“No.”
Despite her protest, Rory grabbed her hand and drew her across the room until they stopped in front of Bastian. Rory cleared his throat. Twice. Bastian turned and glanced first at their joined hands, then at Rory’s wide grin. His unshaven jaw ticked in annoyance, and his eyes went from blue to black.
“Hey, B., we’re gonna head up to the roof. I’m gonna stick Morgan in the hot tub, warm her up. It’ll be like microwaving my meal. Are there still towels up there? Never mind, we don’t need them. I’ll just dry her off with my naked body.”
“Rory,” Bastian growled, “can I talk to you for a minute?” For the first time in days, he looked at her. His angry gaze ran over her tight, black long-sleeved shirt to her short schoolgirl skirt before flicking up to her face. “Alone?”
“Whatever.” Morgan shrugged. “I’m going to head up to the apartment and pick out my most revealing underwear.” She pried her hand from Rory’s. “See you later.”
Morgan shoved the employee door hard enough for it to crash against the wall. Instead of walking left through the back room and kitchen area, she went straight to the narrow staircase leading to the apartment. She let herself inside Bastian’s apartment and looked around the living room, then the kitchen. Polished within an inch of its life, void of all trash, books, and dishware, the place was spotless if not a tad barren. She might have gone overboard on her five-day cleaning spree. With nothing else to do, she took off her apron and sank down onto the sofa.
She unlaced and peeled off her expensive, incredibly uncomfortable boots before wiggling her toes. Maybe she’d keep some money she’d won from Rory to buy a used pair of sneakers. Flopping back, she laid down on the couch. The sofa smelled like Bastian. Was it okay to cry now?
The door opened, and Morgan didn’t bothering looking away from the ceiling. “That was fast. Did he punch you again?”
“Nope. But he deserved it,” Bastian stated.
Startled, she bolted upright and looked directly into Bastian’s bright blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
He slammed the door shut and looked around the apartment. “It’s cleaner than I’m used to, but the last I checked, I live here.”
Morgan stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “Shouldn’t you be making sure the brunette you just fucked doesn’t get her throat slashed? You could have at least walked her to her car.”
“I can see we aren’t going to pull any punches. Fine by me.” His voice was low and scary. “Next time you want to make me jealous, do it with someone other than my brother.”
As if! “He was screwing with you because you’re being an asshole.”
Mirroring her defensive posture, he crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles in his arms bulged, and she had to use all her concentration not to stare. She would not drool.
“I’m doing what’s right.”
“By screwing another woman and throwing it in my face? Fuck you, Bastian.”
He stalked around the couch and into her personal space. Morgan kept her best death glare aimed at him the entire time.
“I didn’t screw her,” he growled and moved even closer. “I didn’t even touch her. I didn’t touch the woman I picked up three nights ago.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and made a fist. When he spoke again, his voice was louder. “Or the one after that.” He drew her head back until she looked him straight in the eye. “I didn’t touch any of them!” Now he was yelling. “Because for some fucking reason I can’t get you out of my head!”
Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest in equal parts fear and arousal. Every breath she took was a struggle. Panic kicked her fight-or-flight response into full gear. As hot as angry Bastian was, he was also damn scary like this. She grabbed his wrist and tried to pry his hand loose from her hair. “Let go of me.”
His hold only tightened. “No.” Eyes burning with fury and lust, he ran his gaze down the length of her trembling body. “I’m going to get you out of my system right now.”
He reached under her skirt and unerringly grabbed hold of her panties. With one quick yank, the silk fell to the floor and left her exposed. On a ragged gasp of shock, her sex clenched, and her nipples drew into tight points.
Not giving her time to protest, Bastian flipped her around and shoved her face-first into the couch. Rough hands pushed her skirt up and over her naked ass. Smack. Smack. Smack. Each slap of his palm against her backside sent her rocking so her nipples rubbed against the lace of her bra. Her pussy spasmed, and her traitorous body responded with a gush of moisture.
She fisted the blanket covering the couch as he kicked her legs farther apart. Cool air hit her sex, and a trail of goose bumps tightened her skin. Her thoughts spun. Would he fuck her like this? Did she want him to? Yes.
“Bastian, don’t…” A single finger stroked her entrance from top to bottom, and her words faded into a whisper. “Do this.”
Bastian pushed two long fingers deep and rubbed the spot that had her toes curling against the hard floor. ““Do what? Fuck this greedy pussy of yours? You were so eager to give it up to my brother a few minutes ago.” With his anger, his speed increased.
Pleasure spiraled and stole her breath. “You’re pissed.” She gasped and rolled her hips against him, needing more, secretly not wanting him to stop. “I get it.” Damn it, she couldn’t think. “I was never going to give anything to Rory except maybe money for the clothes he bought.”
He stroked inside her twice more, bringing her embarrassingly close to orgasm before she heard the rasp of his zipper. Hesitation surfaced—they couldn’t have sex, not like this. Could they? She pushed off the couch with her arms, ready to stop him when he put a hand flat on her back and kept her immobile.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
The demand in his voice made her pussy ache. “Bastian, please.”
The smooth, rounded tip of his cock slid through the lips of her sex, and her insides clenched in anticipation. Her breath caught. He was thick and long, and for a moment she forgot this wasn’t how she wanted her first time with Bastian to be. Not after a week of not talking. Not after him thinking she wanted to have sex with his brother. Bastian hadn’t even kissed her.
“Please what?” he taunted and nudged her clit with the blunt tip of his erection. “Are you begging me to stop or to fuck you?”
Smack. She cried out and desperately tried to ignore the throbbing of her clit each time he spanked her. Using the hand fisted in her hair, he pulled until her neck arched and her back dipped. He leaned over her, the denim of his jeans a rough abrasion on the tender flesh of her abused ass. He spoke against her ear. “Answer me, Morgan.”
How could she talk when she felt like she was going to spontaneously combust? “Yes. No. Not like this,” she managed.
Her body screamed at her to shut up. She did want it like this. Exactly like this. Brutal and raw. Hard and claiming. As if Bastian could read her mind, sensed how much she craved his touch, he took matters into his own hands.
“How about this, then?” he said.
The weight of his body on he
rs vanished, and he curved his fingers around her hip. In one powerful jerk, he pulled her onto his cock and thrust deep inside. Her breath caught at the immediate pierce of pleasurable pain. He pulled out only to stroke the thick length of his erection all the way in again, slow and deep. She opened for him. Internal contractions milked his cock, sucking him in and seating him so deep he became part of her.
Too fucking perfect.
“Damn, you’re snug,” he groaned. Both his grip on her hip and her hair tightened.
Retreating out and slamming in, he went at her in a brutal rhythm that jarred her entire body with every slap of his jeans-clad thighs against her bare, stinging ass. The harder he thrust, the wetter she got. Friction gave way to numbing pleasure, and she mewled beneath him like a damn cat in heat.
“My handprint on your ass is sexy as fuck,” Bastian rasped.
The husky, sex-infused sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Her muscles contracted. Pressure built deep inside her stomach, and Morgan feared she might pass out before the sensations released their grip on her. Behind her, Bastian grunted with each powerful drive. Flesh slapped together, a wet sound that proved just how bad she wanted him—this. Ecstasy stole over her.
“Oh God. Oh God.” She panted, fought the release creeping up on her, terrified of what would happen when she let go, when she gave in to Bastian. “Harder. Fuck me, harder.”
“That’s it; let go. I can feel how close you are to the edge.” Bastian slammed forward.
Her body rocked, and pleasure spun her nerve endings into a tight knot. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he did the quick, hard rocking of his hips again. The louder she moaned, the more he gave her. He pushed forward, speeding his thrusts, the glide of his cock in and out seamless.
“You’re mine,” he declared, his words full of possessive hunger.
Her puckered nipples drew even tauter. “God, yes. Fuck me just like that.”
“Whose are you?” he ordered. Smack!
Bolts of sensation traveled from her stinging ass to her pussy. Her inner muscles clamped around his cock. Jesus. She was going to come. “I’m yours, please, just a little…”
“Damn right you are.”
Bastian yanked her head to the side, pressed the hard line of his chest against her back, and sank his teeth into her shoulder. A moan fought free, an involuntary reaction to the delectable pain. Her climax stole her breath and blackened her vision. Her body heated, tensed, and muscles spasmed. Wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through her entire being. She came hard and kept coming with each jerk of his hips as he found his release.
Boneless, she sagged into the sofa the second Bastian let go of her.
On a ragged grunt, he pulled from her body and left her empty. The scents of sex permeated the air. A draft blew across her ass, reminding her of the sting. In the silence, the rasp of his zipper sounded as loud as a gunshot. Jesus. He hadn’t even gotten undressed.
Warm, thick liquid spilled down her thigh, and humiliation stole over her. With little to no dignity, she smoothed her skirt down and stood on wobbling legs. The wool fabric against her skin burned. She turned to face Bastian and found him already at the door.
Bastard. The place inside her chest that he made go pitter-patter curled in on itself. “That’s it? You’re just going to fuck me, spank me, and then leave me with your cum dripping down my leg?”
Bastian faced her, and the haunted look in his eyes had her sucking in a deep breath. The heart he’d broken earlier mended and then shattered all over again.
“Bastian, talk to me.”
He shook his head and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Bastian turned to the wall outside his door, drew his head back, and slammed it home. Pain exploded. It didn’t hurt half as bad as the ache in his chest. Fucking fuck. What in the hell was wrong with him?
“Tell me one thing.” Rory stepped out of the shadows and brought a bottle of whiskey to his lips. He took a long swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did she at least want it?”
Bastian snatched the bottle from his brother and took an even longer swallow. Liquor burned his throat, and he welcomed the heat. Exhausted, he slid down the wall until his ass hit the ground. He leaned his head back. “Maybe. I don’t know. You seem like you’ve been out here the whole time. You tell me.”
Rory collapsed opposite him in the hall. When he reached for the bottle, Bastian handed it off. “Heard her tell you to stop, Bro.” Rory took a swig. “But I also heard her screaming your name the way women do when they come, so…I didn’t kick down the door.”
Bastian looked at the ceiling and admitted, “I fucked up, Rory.”
“It won’t be the last time, I’m sure.”
“No, I really, really fucked up.”
“She’s half in love with you.”
Bastian snorted and reached for the bottle. One emotion after another slammed into him. Sorrow. Pain. Regret. Disgust. Each was worse than the one before it. He poured liquor into his mouth until he almost choked on it. Maybe he could drown the sensations. He ignored the stinging in the backs of his eyes and wiped his mouth. “She’s barely old enough to drink, let alone to know what she wants.”
“She wants you.”
“Well, she shouldn’t. I fucking proved that, didn’t I?” He curled his fingers around the bottle still in his hand. Revulsion consumed him. He let out a low growl and hurled the bottle at the wall. Glass shattered in a spray of thick liquid. “She was practically a virgin, and I shoved her face-first onto the couch and fucked her as hard as I could. I didn’t hold back, not even a little. I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t take off her clothes. I left her with a bright red ass and my cum dripping down her legs.” Shame burned through him, and when Rory handed him a metal flask, he popped the top and set about drowning that sensation too. “I don’t even treat the women I feed from like that.”
Rory rubbed a hand over his jaw and stared at him. “You punished her because you have feelings for her. You blame her for them.”
Bastian narrowed his eyes. “When the fuck did you become Dr. Phil?”
“I’ve been to medical school like four times, asshole.”
Was his brother right? He’d spanked her because he wanted his handprint on her flesh. He’d bitten her because he wanted his mark on her. Bastian gripped his head with both hands. He was desperate to stop the spinning vortex of thoughts and feelings. Decades as Ronan’s blood slave had meticulously ruined emotions such as lust, love, or happiness. With his father at the helm, Bastian had done and been subject to unspeakable things against his will. Things that still made him ill one hundred and seventy years later.
When Rory’s voice floated out of seemingly nowhere, Bastian knew he was drunk. “I almost forgot.” His brother lifted his ass off the floor and pulled a velvet bag from his back pocket. Rory tossed it his way. “The crazy old bat down on 5th called the bar looking for you, said your order was ready. I picked it up.”
The bag hit Bastian in the chest. He picked up the slight weight and rubbed his thumb over the soft, fuzzy fabric twice before throwing the bundle back to his brother. “Take it back.”
“Fuck off. You take it back. What is it anyways?” Rory pulled on the strings until the top loosened. He upended the bag, and Bastian watched the shiny necklace spill into Rory’s palm. His brother sucked in a breath at the sight of the familiar jewelry.
The outstretched fingerlike wings of the raven pendant shone in the half dark. Despite the liquor, the ache in his chest returned. He’d found his mother’s old necklace in the back of his dresser a few days ago and thought of Morgan. He’d sent it in to the shop to repair the broken clasp. Jesus, she was never going to forgive him.
“This is for Morgan, isn’t it?” Rory held up the jewelry and poked at the swinging bird. He looked up with a grin. “You fucking asshole. You’re in love with her. That’s why you look like you’re about to cry.”
�
�I’m not too drunk to punch you in the face.”
Bastian didn’t know what in the hell he felt. He’d been so sure if he could bring himself to be with someone else, he’d burn off his newfound lust and forget his obsession with his little necromancer. He hadn’t counted on not being able to touch anyone else, let alone fuck them. To get blood, he’d broken into the county hospital and taken from a comatose old man on life support. It was a new low for him.
During his silent musings, Rory finished off the booze and pushed from the floor. He dropped the necklace beside Bastian and nudged him with his boot. “Tell her you fucked up, admit you love her, and then give her the damn necklace.” Without waiting for a response, Rory walked to the staircase and left him alone.
Bastian shoved the necklace into his pocket and stumbled to his feet, the liquor he’d consumed swirling his thoughts into a fog. After a few failed attempts, he made his way into the apartment. His double vision immediately singled in on the spot he’d screwed Morgan, and he paused. The blanket on the couch was smooth. Her ruined panties were gone. Morgan was nowhere in sight. As fucked up as it was, the sight of her with her skirt pushed up, her rosy backside exposed, and his seed dripping from her pussy was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
His cock hardened, and lust cut through some of the liquor saturating his liver. Readjusting his erection, he used the wall for support and staggered down the hall to the bedroom. For maybe the first time in a hundred years, he was going to apologize. He’d give her the necklace, tell her the meaning behind it, and hope to hell she didn’t punch him in the dick.
Too bad for him the door was locked.
Right. She was probably beyond pissed. Best he apologize in the morning when he wasn’t so damned drunk and tempted to push her to her knees and fuck her all over again. That would be bad. After hitting the bathroom, he kicked off his boots, stripped off his jeans, and collapsed onto the couch. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion, sleep didn’t come. It rarely did. The clock in the kitchen ticked softly. The refrigerator hummed. Dawn approached, coloring the sky from deep purples and blues to orange. Golden light filled the room and swept out the shadows.
Crimson Sins Page 17