Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)

by Kim Jones

  I leave him processing my words, but turn back when I get to the door. “Hey, Shady,” I call, and he turns, his goofy-ass smile still in place. “Pick up that cigarette butt.”

  I walk inside, leaving an officer for the Sinner’s Creed MC picking up my trash in the parking lot, and having only one thought in my mind—payback is hell.

  —

  Nationals knows about the situation with Death Mob, and even though my work was done, they wanted me to stay in town a couple more days to make sure Cyrus stayed good on his word. He did.

  The next night we pulled into Juke’s Joint, Death Mob was waiting to shake our hands. I just gave them a salute and kept walking. Now that I’m almost back to Mississippi, Nationals wants me back in Texas. Just fucking great. But at least I’ll have one night at home.

  Saylor and I have kept in contact the three days I had been gone. She always tells me she loves me and I never respond. I don’t think it’s necessary. She knows it and I shouldn’t have to send it in a message to confirm it. Although, I like when she says it to me.

  I didn’t tell her when I was leaving, and now that I’m outside her apartment, I wonder if I should have. When I hear voices inside, my first reaction is to kick down the door. When I hear male laughter, my second reaction is to set the building on fire. But, today, there is another issue at the complex, and two patrol cars linger at the end of the parking lot. So, instead, I decide to text her. I’m so pissed I can barely punch in the letters on my phone.

  Who the fuck is here?

  I wait several minutes and get no response. I light a cigarette, trying to calm my growing temper. It helps clear my head and I decide to give her a call. From outside the door, I can hear her telling them to be quiet because it’s him. That’s me. That means she is hiding me from them.

  I’m flooded with all sorts of emotions; betrayal, hurt, sadness . . . but above all, fury. I close the phone just as she says hello and knock on the door, willing my hand to not knock a hole through the wood. When a man with blond hair wearing a V-neck answers, I lose it.

  I grab his shirt, lifting him off his feet and pushing him inside, then closing the door with my foot. I don’t need any witnesses. He looks like he is about to shit his pants, or throw up. I’m not sure which one.

  When I break his nose with my fist, he screams like a girl. I crack my neck, flex my fingers, and take a deep breath, letting my plan of torture run through my mind again and again. I’ll break all his bones first, then I’ll cut him in places where he will slowly bleed out. I want him to feel the pain for as long as possible.

  As I reach down to pull him from the floor, I’m blinded by a mass of curly blond hair. Arms are around my neck, legs around my waist, and I fall to my knees with the impact. I start to pry her off of me when her mouth connects with mine. She isn’t asking me to stop. She isn’t begging me to spare his life. She is kissing me like I’m the only man in the world.

  Everything around me dies and I am consumed only by her. My Saylor. My hands fist in her hair and I kiss her back with ten times the passion she is showing me. Her taste, smell, and body fuse with mine, and everything about the two of us becomes one. From our rapid heartbeats, to our perfectly molded bodies, to our tongues that fight to get more from the other.

  I feel like her blood is my blood, her touch is my touch and her mind is my mind, and it is saying I miss you and I love you. Nothing can break us away from this moment of euphoria. Nothing but high-pitched screams, two men crying and banging on the door. Saylor pulls away and she is smiling. If her kiss didn’t have me breathless, her beauty would.

  “You broke my friend’s nose,” she says, and looks like she couldn’t give a shit less. “I missed you so much.”

  I start to tell her I miss her, but the word police and banging on the front door has me snapping out of the moment. I stand up, pulling her with me, and wonder what in the hell I’m gonna say. My mind is clouded with her, and I can’t think rationally to save my fucking life.

  “I got it.” She looks at the man holding a towel to his nose and says, “Go along with the story.” He shoots her the finger and when I take a step toward him, he hides in the chest of another man who looks just as terrified as him. Confusion has me cemented to the floor. “Come in!” Saylor’s voice is excited, and I know it’s not because the cops are here, it’s because I am.

  “There a problem here?” the first officer asks, his hands resting on his gun and his eyes on me. Before I can answer, Saylor intervenes.

  “No. This is my boyfriend, and these are my friends,” she says, cheerful as ever.

  “Then why is he bleeding?” he asks, jutting his thumb toward the crybaby in the corner that has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Before any of us can say anything, crybaby intervenes.

  “I didn’t know he had a key to get in. When I went to open the door, he pushed it and it broke my nose. Now I’m gonna have a big hump in it.” He cries out the last part, and the man next to him starts making shhhing noises and rubbing his back. Motherfucker. They’re gay.

  I look to the officer, and apparently the relief in my face has softened it and our story is believed. He nods his head, says a few words to Saylor, and leaves with his partner in tow. Saylor slips her hand around my waist and makes the introductions, still acting as if nothing is wrong.

  “Dirk, Donnawayne and Jeffery. Guys, this is my Dirk.” Her Dirk. Only hers. She looks up at me, eyes filled with love and I cup her cheek, loving how she closes her eyes and turns her face into my hand so she can kiss my palm.

  “Well, in case you didn’t know, mean ass, we’re gay,” Donnawayne says, removing the towel from his face so I can hear him. I just stare at them, not knowing what in the hell to say. It doesn’t bother me that they are gay, it just isn’t something I’m used to. I’m also still reeling from the fact that these men have no desire whatsoever for Saylor.

  Jeffery keeps an arm around his lover and extends the other toward me. “Nice to meet you, Dirk. I just hate it had to be like this.” He smiles and there is no hostility in his voice. He isn’t pissed that I broke his boyfriend’s nose, not that I’d care too much if he was.

  I don’t take his hand and he closes his eyes and snaps his fingers. “Right. Not a toucher. It’s fine. We will excuse just about anything for the man who has made our girl so happy.”

  My girl. Not his. But his words were genuine and I now know that these are the other two people that are important in Saylor’s life.

  “No, we will not!” Donnawayne says, shrugging Jeffery off and lightly slapping his chest. “Saylor, he broke my nose. I think he owes me an apology.” I move my focus to Saylor and I’m glad I did. She is beautiful.

  “I love you,” she says, ignoring her friends and searching my face as if she is trying to make sure her memory of me didn’t deceive her.

  “I love you too, baby,” I tell her, because she wants it. She wants the words, she wants the endearment, and it’s been too damn long since I’ve given it to her. I want to tell her again and again, but the other couple is arguing and fucking up my concentration.

  “Will you apologize? Please?” Saylor asks, her lip poking out. I’d kiss him if she asked me to right now.

  I turn to Donnawayne and give him the most sincere look I can manage. “I apologize. You caught me off guard.” Not that I owed him an explanation, but I thought it might help calm the waters. It doesn’t.

  “Yeah, well what about my nose? It was once my best feature.” He is crying again and I look to Saylor for help. She just gives me an evil grin. I look at Jeffery, who is looking back at me, unsure of what to say. Yeah, well, that makes two of us. I shift, already regretting the words I’m fixing to say.

  “I can reset it for you,” I offer, and a look of hope fills his eyes. Fuck.

  “You can? You will?” If he hugs me, I’ll kill him. Saylor laughs and I know she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Come on. I’ll get some ice,” she says, and I follow her into t
he kitchen with the two men on my ass . . . I can only shake my head.

  15

  DONNAWAYNE’S NOSE WAS reset, Jeffery’s hand was numb from Donnawayne squeezing the shit out of it every time I came close to him, and my discomfort was at a max by the time Saylor and I were finally alone. When I asked her why she chose two gay men to be her only friends, she responded with a shrug and “at least I know they won’t take you.” Her answer was good enough for me. But, even if her friends were female, there was no one I wanted other than her.

  “Will you sleep with me tonight?” Saylor asks, between yawns.

  “Yes,” I tell her, thinking of how I want to make up for the days I missed.

  “’K, I just need to take my contacts out.” I wait for her in bed, ready to feel her body against mine. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since I was with her.

  When she climbs in, she is naked and my cock stands at attention at the feel of her silky skin against mine. “I haven’t slept hardly any since you left,” she says, and I feel the weight of her body on me as she starts to relax. Her head is on my shoulder, her arm around my neck, one leg thrown over mine and her bare chest against my side. I like her like this. Just the feel of her next to me has my own body relaxing. We don’t tell each other good night because words aren’t needed. We both know this moment is as good as it gets.

  —

  Saylor is out for doughnuts when I wake up. I know this because the room is covered in Post-it notes, telling me. There are at least twenty of them, and I know she did it so that as soon as I opened my eyes, no matter where I looked I would know where she was.

  I shower and am forced to wear a towel because all of my clothes are missing. My bag is empty and inside of it is a note that tells me she is doing my laundry. I find some milk in the fridge, and drink it while I check out her apartment. It’s still pretty bare, but some of the boxes in the spare room look like they have been somewhat unpacked. I want her to pack them back up and ship them to my place. Which is where I’m gonna ask her to move when she gets back.

  I hear the door open and close and I freeze, wondering if there is any way possible that it’s not Saylor. I use the small island in the kitchen to cover as much of me as possible, and let out a breath when Saylor emerges. Her bright pink T-shirt is so long it almost covers her shorts, her hair is wild around her head, and she has on a pair of neon yellow running shoes. I take it Saylor likes bright colors.

  She smiles when she sees me, then her eyes fall to the towel around my waist. “Why didn’t I think to hide the towels?” she asks, and in one swift movement, I’m standing completely naked in her kitchen. Her eyes travel the length of my body as I walk toward her, already imagining what she will feel like when I’m buried inside her. I want her on the kitchen table. I want her on the counter. I want her on the floor, against the wall, in the air, and everywhere in between. But the noise coming from the laundry room tells me the best place to have her is on the washing machine.

  I could grab her hand and lead her there. I could tell her to follow me. But both of those will take away more time than what I’m willing to give. So I scoop her in my arms and carry her, making sure to step over the box of doughnuts that are now on the floor.

  The machine is on the wash cycle, and the gentle back and forth movement is just enough to make her tits dance for me. I strip off her shirt and bra, anxious to have her in my mouth. When I gently bite down on her nipple, she moans deep in her throat and pulls me closer to her.

  She’s naked and I’m inside her before my mind slows down enough for me to think. I’m buried deep, letting her squeeze me with her pussy and pull my hair with her hands while she kisses me almost desperately. Fuck I’ve missed her. I move inside her, long, deep thrusts that are slow at first, then hard as I drive home that last inch. Her body jerks and she moans each time I pound into her. I love watching her—the way she squeezes her eyes shut, the way she throws her head back, the way she leans back on one hand while the other pulls at her nipples. She is a beautiful sight.

  When her body tenses and she comes, the feeling she has can’t be anything close to the feeling I get each time I look at her like this. My own release isn’t as powerful as this feeling in my chest. Feeling my dick jerk inside her, flooding her, filling her . . . is pretty fucking intense.

  But nothing can compare to what I feel for her in my heart. That mind-blowing, forget-everything, all-I-can-concentrate-on-is-this-moment sensation. This feeling you get when you reach that orgasmic high is what I feel every time I look at her. When she opens her eyes to look at me, I can see all the way to her soul. I can feel it. And I can feel her searching for mine. Playing games with the devil isn’t smart. I sold my soul to him a long time ago, and Saylor Samson wants to possess what doesn’t even belong to me. But I believe she is powerful enough to give the devil a run for his money.

  —

  “You were thinking about something earlier. Something deep. Tell me about it.” Saylor is laying next to me on the living room floor, naked except for her socks. I can’t even remember how we got here, but we’ve been here awhile.

  “I was thinking about how much I love you.” I answer honestly, staring up at the ceiling, holding her hand in mine.

  “There was something else. I could see it in your eyes. Tell me.” I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb, wondering how in the hell I am going to answer her question.

  “I can feel you inside me. In places I haven’t had feeling in a long time.” That sounded stupid, but I hope she got it.

  “You’re talking about your soul, aren’t you?” I don’t answer her because she already knows what I mean. Plus, I don’t like saying shit when I’m not sure it’s what I want to say. “Just because you think you’re not good enough, doesn’t make it true. That’s not your decision. It’s God’s.”

  I don’t like this conversation and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m hoping by ignoring her, the subject will be dropped. I’d rather talk about anything than this.

  “I’m sick, Dirk,” she says, and my head jerks toward her. Maybe she has a headache. Maybe a stomach virus. I don’t know and I can’t tell because she won’t look at me. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. I stare at her, silently begging her for more information so I can fix her, and wondering if I need to go ahead and inform Nationals that I won’t be leaving today.

  “Saylor.” I squeeze her hand and she finally looks at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. When she blinks, I follow one until it rolls off her cheek and onto the carpet. “What’s wrong?” I ask, and if it wasn’t for the flood of tears, I wouldn’t know she was crying. She doesn’t sob, or make a sad face. She looks almost relieved.

  I turn on my side, propping myself on my elbow so I can look down at her, but she pushes me away. She stands and I follow her to her room. She grabs a robe from the bed and puts it on, disappearing out the door. I’m trying not to get mad, but her nonchalance about the situation is driving me insane. If she is sick, then why don’t she tell me what’s wrong? Why the fuck is she crying? Why can’t we just stay naked?

  She walks back in, holding a basket of clean laundry, and I grab my one and only pair of sweats off the top. My mind takes a break from the turmoil I feel in my chest and silently thanks Saylor for throwing the clothes in the dryer before leaving the laundry room.

  When my junk is covered, I feel marginally better about chewing Saylor’s ass for not giving me any info other than “I’m sick.” But, when I turn to find her, she is looking at me—her face and neck wet with tears.

  “I’m not just sick, Dirk. I’m dying.” Her eyes are begging me to understand what she said, but I can’t. We’re all dying. Every day on this earth puts us one day closer to that inevitable day we will all face. But that’s not what’s she’s saying. She is saying she is dying like she knows when that inevitable day is.

  I feel my heart leap to my throat, then fall to my knees as her words sink in. The emptiness in my chest is almost too much, and
I know if I wasn’t looking dead at her, it would be as if she were already gone. Because she is telling me she is leaving.

  “Those headaches I have are caused from an inoperable, malignant brain tumor.” She pauses as if she is waiting for her words to fully register. They don’t. All I’m hearing is I’m dying and all I can think is She can’t.

  “My mother died from the same thing. After she passed, they removed the tumor and did some research. They found it was hereditary. I’ve been going for routine CT scans since. At first I hoped it might have somehow skipped me, but they found it about six months ago when I went for my checkup.”

  Brain tumor? Couldn’t they just take it out? She said inoperable, but she didn’t say incurable.

  “They can fix it,” I inform her, because these days, chemo and radiation and all that shit cured these types of things. She would lose her hair, but it would grow back. Technology was amazing. There were smart people all over the world, finding cures for cancer right now. Little lab geeks in white coats with glasses and all that shit.

  “There’s no fixing it, Dirk. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but six months from now I won’t be here.”

  How could she be so calm? How could she not care? Why the fuck has she been keeping this from me?

  “I’m at peace with this, Dirk, and it’s taken me a long time to get where I am.”

  I’m still shaking my head, telling her this isn’t real in a way that I’ve been taught not to. I don’t nod, or shake my head. I speak when I have something to say, but I can’t find the words. She puts her hands on either side of my face and I still. I’m frantically searching her eyes for any sign of hope, but there isn’t any.

  “How can you say you are at peace with this?” I whisper the words, afraid if I say them too loud that the part of my brain that can fully process what I’m asking will hear and make this all true.