Heartless Sinner (Empire of Sinners #5)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Scarlett

We walk into a moonlit suite with white carpeted floors and the same elegant furniture I’ve seen throughout the rest of the hotel. Everything screams luxury—the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the modern art pieces on the walls, and the king-sized bed in the center covered with silky charcoal sheets.

Moonlight casts a silver glow around us, mingling with the glittering city lights on display through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls.

This feels like a dream and we're suspended in the sky, floating amongst the stars.

I believe I’m definitely in a dream when Mr. Dreamy slips an arm around me and pulls me in for a kiss.

He pulls me flush against his hard body and backs me against the wall nearest to us.

A dim light snaps on, brightening the room. I’m so lost in kissing him I don’t know if he switched on the light or if it came on automatically.

He sucks on my tongue and I curl my fingers into his shirt in response, pulling him down to me. The mere touch amplifies the kiss and he kisses me as if he's been starving for me as badly as I have for him.

I know this is crazy.

Lucy is the part of our duo who flirts with hot strangers in clubs and hooks up with guys. Not me. She’s the one who’s fine with a no names, no strings arrangement. Not me.

Yet here I am—the girl who does everything by the book and stays in watching TV.

Mr. Dreamy’s mouth claims mine with bruising intensity and a voice in my head whispers that this is a mistake. But as his hands skim my skin, pushing me harder into the wall, I realize I don't care.

If he's a mistake, he's the most beautiful one I've ever made—the kind worth shattering all my rules for.

I’ll take tonight as the thing that makes up for my conundrum and replay it in my mind as my favorite mistake.

“You taste like heaven, bellezza.” He whispers over my lips. “I want to taste you everywhere. Let me?”

“Yes.” That word is all I’ve been saying to this man all evening. It will probably be the death of me.

He bunches up my dress and my entire body lights up, my nipples turning hard against his chest. I’m so turned on I can barely breathe.

He’s turned on, too.

The hard bulge of his cock presses into my belly, telling me exactly what he wants. Feeling him so hard and thick increases the wetness between my legs that has been growing since he first kissed me.

His hands roam down my ass and I lose myself. I don’t want him to stop touching me.

His fingers glide up to my inner thigh and he slips his hands under the lace of my panties and straight into my pussy.

“You’re so wet for me. And so fucking tight.” He grins, pulling his fingers out of my pussy so he can lick off my juices. “You’re going to feel so good on my cock.”

He pushes his fingers back into my pussy and I gasp, feeling more sensitive than ever.

“Oh God,” I moan, grabbing on to his shoulders.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“More?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Another smile spreads across his face. This one filled with greed and the kind of hunger you’d see on a ravenous animal. He strokes my clit, then flicks the nub, making me moan louder and squirm. Then he takes one step back to look at me pressed against the wall, predatory pleasure lighting up his eyes.

“I want to see this gorgeous body of yours first.” He traces one sly finger down the valley between my breasts, leaving goose bumps in the wake before hooking it between my dress and my bra. “Take your clothes off for me, bellezza.”

My fingers tremble at his request and for a moment, I'm frozen as I realize this is the moment. The moment we cross the line.

This stranger I’ve christened Mr. Dreamy is going to be the first man since Anton to see me naked. And he’ll be the third man I’ve slept with in my life.

Fear and doubt wrap around me like a familiar, poisonous blanket, but there's something different in his eyes to what I’ve seen before. Different to the cold, appraising look I've known from others. This man is looking at me like he wants me, needs me. He makes my soul ache with desire, erasing that fear and doubt.

I start by pulling the zipper down the side of my dress and sliding the straps down my shoulders. The fabric whispers against my skin as it falls down my body, exposing my skin to the air.

The dress pools at my feet, covering my little ballerina pumps.

Holding his gaze, I take off my bra next and watch lust fill his eyes as my breasts spill out, bobbing toward him with my nipples hard.

My panties and shoes follow, and finally, I stand before him, bare and vulnerable.

His hazel eyes trace over me with a reverence I've never known, his expression stealing the breath from my lungs as he looks at me like I'm something sacred, something precious, and every inch of my body is a story he wants to learn by heart.

"You're perfect," he whispers, the raw honesty in his voice making my soul burn with something I never knew I needed until now.

Under his gaze I feel like I'm not just surviving anymore. I feel alive, like a flower finding the sun after an endless winter.

I don’t feel dead inside anymore. Maybe that’s why I didn’t have that pop Lucy spoke of. No wonder the casting director didn’t pick me. What kind of actress lacks emotion and only feels the cold sting of death?

When Mr. Dreamy takes a step toward me, shivers skip across my skin like waves rippling in the river. He catches my face and leans in to kiss me again.

The kiss is consuming. It makes my body tighten with pleasure and I marvel at how I could happily spend the rest of my days kissing and touching this man.

It’s a crazy thought because the only thing I know about him is that he’s a hot bartender who appears to have deeper pockets than he should by most people’s standards.

I don’t care.

This is my fantasy, so I’ll think and believe whatever I want to. Consequences be fucking damned.

I groan from the sheer possession and melt into him as his hands slide over my breasts and he squeezes them.

Pulling out of the kiss, he leans down and licks across the top of my breasts, and I feel it everywhere. A pang shoots straight to my pussy that intensifies when he takes my left nipple into his mouth and sucks.

I watch the way his jaw moves as he sucks me. It’s so hot, I arch my body, pushing myself deeper into his wild suckle. He takes more of me into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around my nipple.

His teeth graze my skin, heightening the pleasure, and I moan louder. He moves to my other breast and gives it the same attention.

My knees go weak, feeling like they might fall out from under me, and I have to hold on to him to keep myself from dissolving into the floor.

Lost to pleasure, my fingers weave into his hair, holding his mouth against my breast so he can deepen his sucking. He does, and I moan, feeling the building shivers of a delicious orgasm on the rise.

I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m so wet, my arousal is leaking down my thigh, and I don’t care enough to feel embarrassed. Part of me wants him to know what he’s doing to me.

He pauses his suckle to look at me and grip my hips, pressing my naked body against him. “You like that, bellezza?”

“Yes...” I answer on a moan.

“Good because I’m just getting started with you. Tonight, you’re all mine.”

His.

Damn me. I like the sound of that way too much. “Yours?”

His smile widens in that possessive way that speaks to every secret part of me. “Mine.” His grip tightens, and it almost hurts. “This body is mine. This pussy is mine.” He cups my sex and pushes a finger inside me. “ You are mine.”

Numbness grips me, so when he crouches and buries his face between my thighs, thrusting his tongue into my pussy, I’m paralyzed with pleasure.

He spreads my legs wider and oh my God, I’m on fire.

His tongue pushes in and out of my passage, stroking and licking my clit.

My orgasm rises higher this time and the instant he sucks hard on my clit, I come.

Pleasure explodes through my nerves like fireworks. I cry out from the delirious impact, bracing myself in between the wall and his shoulders as my muscles shake.

Sweet pleasure flows through me, possessing every fiber of my being.

I squeeze my eyes shut, savoring every pulse that zings through my blood, awakening my body.

God, I can’t believe I was going to say no to this. Now, that would have been crazy.

When I open my eyes again, Mr. Dreamy is looking up at me with a sinful smirk on his handsome face.

He looks like he knows I’m close to another orgasm again. My assumption is confirmed when he presses one finger against my clit and I come.

Grinning, he returns to my pussy and laps up my juices while he continues to eat me out.

My body weakens from the onslaught of his tongue. I’m spent, drained of my energy.

More wetness rushes from me, and he drinks me in, taking it all until there’s nothing left but my need for more. More of him.

He stands, and before my next thought can form, his hand glides to my nape and he pushes me to my knees in front of him.

My body obeys his demanding touch and my knees hit the carpet.

I stare up at him, taking in the dark lust brewing like a storm in his hazel eyes.

He grips the hem of his shirt, and my breath catches as he pulls it over his head in one fluid motion.

His abs ripple with each breath, and I shamelessly stare at him, scanning the defined ridges that form his six pack and the happy trail of dark hair that disappears into his waistband.

The scorpions I'd glimpsed on his forearms earlier are just the beginning of the artwork on his body. Dark ink spreads across his chest in an intricate tapestry of Japanese and Viking art where dragons weave between kanji characters and runes.

He looks down at me like he knows exactly what the sight of him is doing to my self-control.

That tempting smirk returns to his face, and he unzips his pants, then he shoves it down his hips and frees his cock.

My eyes glue to his long, thick cock that looks so hard it’s straining toward me.

“I want your mouth on me now, bellezza.” His hand flexes around his massive erection, and my mouth waters at the sight of him touching himself. “Open your pretty mouth for me.”

The moment I do, he slides his cock inside. He groans, closing his eyes for a moment before he grips my hair and pushes deeper inside my mouth.

Within seconds, he’s deep-throating me, fucking my face. And I take it. I take it because this is still part of the fantasy. After tonight, the fantasy disappears and I go back to being the damsel in distress without a prince or a hope in hell to rescue her.

I loosen my jaw to take him even deeper and he mutters a string of curses in what must be Italian.

“Fuck, bellezza. You’re fucking perfect .”

He slams in and out of my mouth, his thrusts long, deep, and hard and his grunts low and primal.

The sound turns me on and I want to keep going, but then he pulls out.

“We’ll do that again later. I want to come in your beautiful cunt.” His dirty talk sends a bolt of desire through me and suddenly my body craves him like nothing else. “Get on the bed now. On your hands and knees.”

He helps me to stand and smacks my ass when I turn around. I gasp and continue toward the bed. He takes off his pants and joins me, slipping an arm around my waist before I climb onto the bed.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle with you, bellezza.” He nuzzles his mouth into the side of my neck.

“You don’t have to be,” I whisper back, the quiver in my voice noticeable as I wonder what it will be like to be with him.

“Good, because I’d hate to scare you away.” He kisses my neck and trails a line down my shoulder before scooping me up onto the bed.

He guides me to the center and I settle on my hands and knees, then he climbs up behind me.

I look ahead, and my breath catches when I notice that we’re facing the full-length mirror on the closet. And I can see us. Me kneeling with my hair falling over my naked body with my breasts full and round like large globes swaying in front of me. Him behind me, naked too, looking like a beautiful, deadly anime villain.

We look like we’re about to shoot a porn.

Embarrassed, I look away, but Mr. Dreamy pulls me flush against his body and catches my face, guiding me back to look at our erotic reflection.

“Don’t look away,” he speaks into my ear and slides his free hand down to my pussy so I can see his fingers fondling over my clean-shaven mound. “I want you to watch us, watch me while I fuck you. So you’ll always remember tonight. Do you hear me, bellezza ?”

Arousal claws through me, sending fire through my blood. It grows as he pushes his fingers inside me and pumps. “I hear you,” I moan.

“Good girl. Now bend over and let me fuck you.”

And just like that, he has my body under his control like he’s cast some kind of spell on me. I’m so far down the rabbit hole I’m lost and don’t remember the way back.

He pulls his finger out of me and pushes me back to my hands and knees.

I watch us like he wants me to and note the way he grabs my hips.

The next thing I feel is the head of his cock easing inside me, and my breath grows short.

He presses deeper, an inch at a time, filling me up.

My walls stretch to take him, but he’s so big I feel possessed. It hurts, then it doesn’t, and he feels good inside me. The fact that we’re bare and skin to skin makes it feel even better.

“You’re so tight. You feel so damn good.”

I grip the sheets, groaning as sweet pleasure fills me. I don’t even think about the fact that I’m tight because I haven’t had sex in more than a year.

Mr. Dreamy begins a slow, steady pump, and the world moves with him.

Slow becomes fast and fast becomes rough and hard, then he’s fucking me, and I’m utterly lost in the sensation. My entire body is paralyzed, bound to his will as he pounds into me.

In this position, everything feels more enhanced, more intense, more demented with his mad rhythm.

This was what he meant by not gentle. The pace of his relentless thrusts of control, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoing around us, mixing with our groans.

I watch him fucking me in the mirror, and the sight of the pleasure on his face sends me over the edge.

I come instantly and so hard I see stars. And still, he fucks me harder.

“Time to make you scream.” His voice takes on a dark edge that almost sounds otherworldly. Then his thrusts become wilder, and he fucks me like he owns every part of me.

Nothing exists except for this. I come again, then I lose my mind, becoming a slave to pleasure, and I scream. I scream so loud the sound feels like it’s pouring out of the deepest layer of my soul.

His groan almost sounds like a savage roar, then his cock pulses inside me and he comes, too.

The spray of hot cum fills me up and I savor it the same way that I do with our reflection in the mirror.

I watch us in the mirror until his pumps slow and try to catch my breath.

He does, too.

Sweat covers our bodies and I feel hot and cold at the same time.

When he pulls out of me, his cum runs down my thighs.

He gets off the bed and grabs some tissues from the nightstand, then surprises me by cleaning me off.

I hold his gaze in the mirror, watching him as my awareness creeps back in.

I expect to feel regret and fear, but neither of those emotions come to assault me. Maybe it’s because my body is still buzzing with the fire from the wild sex I just had.

I’m about to slump into the sheets when he slips an arm around my waist and pulls me against him, facing him this time.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired.” He presses his nose to mine, our breaths mingling as we try to steady our breathing.

“I’m not tired.”

“Good, because I’m not done with you.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. It turns out I want more, bellezza.” He runs a finger down my cheek.

“I… want more, too.” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.

The handsome stranger smiles back at me. “Come here to me.”

We move toward each other at the same time, falling into another kiss, and I’m lost all over again.

When the first rays of dawn paint shadows across his beautiful sleeping face, my heart twists.

I promised myself I’d leave when the sun came up. It’s time.

I just don’t want to go.

I don’t want to get my clothes back on and walk through that door. I don’t want to leave him—my handsome stranger.

But I know I have to.

Last night was just a fantasy. The magic is gone and everything that made me his bellezza has faded into the ether.

I’m back to being myself again and all the reasons I came to New York have resurfaced in my mind.

I have to leave and the wise thing to do is get back to my room and figure out my next steps.

I want to get the chip within the next few hours while it’s still quiet. So, I need to leave now. Getting that chip will place me one step closer to freedom—or as free as I can be. Free from Anton.

Freedom from Anton keeps me and Dad safe. I’m not even thinking about Johnny at this point. He made his choice.

With that thought, I sit up, careful not to wake Mr. Dreamy.

I look at him again and note how peaceful he appears in his sleep. The dominance is still very much there, but there’s a calmness to him that I like.

Last night was amazing, and I haven’t felt that punch of reality that’s supposed to come when you do something crazy—like sleep with a hot bartender you literally just met.

Does this make me a slut?

I guess it does in most people’s books, but I’d do it again. This man took me into a fantasy where I forgot everything that wasn’t him. We had sex all night, and I only fell asleep because sleep caught up with me.

I drifted off before him, but I’m glad I woke up before him. It would have been harder to leave.

Then again, one-night stands have rules. This is my first time, but even I know that rule number one is that you don't stay until morning.

I also think you’re not supposed to lie in bed memorizing the constellation of tattoos on your one-night stand’s body so you don’t forget them.

You also shouldn’t imagine anything to do with the future. There’s a reason they’re called one-night stands, and we had the classic example—no names, no strings attached. It needs to stay that way.

Besides, look at this man. He probably has a one-nighter every weekend. I could be just one of this weekend’s girls. There’s still tonight and tomorrow, so he could wake up with two different girls by the time we hit next week.

With a heavy heart, I get off the bed, ignoring how my body yearns to sink back into his warmth.

I find my dress and my underwear and quickly put them on, then drag my shoes on last and find my purse, which is somehow caught up in his clothes.

We were so wild last night I’m surprised I can find anything.

I see his pants and the thought hits me to look at his wallet so I can get his name. I’d at least like to know that.

No.

I won’t do that. I shouldn’t, and it adds to the magic of the fantasy.

Better to have the memory as it is— perfect .

I do wonder who he is, though. I think I’m right about him being no mere bartender.

It doesn’t matter. He made me feel alive for one night. That has to be enough.

I allow myself one last look at Mr. Dreamy before I disappear, knowing I’ll never forget him.

Remembering him is the price I have to pay.