The Sins that Ruin (Obsidian Knights Secret Society #3)

18. Scarlett

EIGHTEEN

“I was thinking maybe we could go to the club tonight.”

Malone slips a finger along my cheek. It’s an innocent-seeming touch, but at the same time, it’s not. A world of perverted fun, a world of depraved sex, of pleasure and pain lives in that touch, layered and ready to unravel and wind down around me.

My breath picks up.

Because I want it.

A minute ago, I was in a vivid dream world that shifted and morphed into hyperreality, the moments between wakefulness and semiconsciousness. Then came his touch, the simple stroke of his finger, holding such surreal pleasure.

But he shatters it when the buttery, sugary rose scent of my ginger-rose cupcakes wafts under my nose. The ginger is light and enhances the rose wrapped into the vanilla of the cake. And I know that scent so well it snaps me right back into the real world.

I slowly raise my eyes to him.

Green eyes, vivid and watchful, look down at me. He’s so close I can see the darker green and almost black striations in them.

And his wide, full mouth is a little softer than usual. But the hard center remains. Like a shell around his soul.

Maybe I’m still half-asleep if I’m thinking all this. Or maybe it’s his touch that keeps waking and flaring to life parts of me that have no business being awake so early.

And all those parts have to do with sex and need and wanting.

He pushes the cake to my lips, deliberately smearing the frosting over them, and then he pulls it back and takes a bite.

“But first, like I said, time to play and start the day.”

I go to lick my lips and speak. He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

He leans in, and he sucks and licks the buttercream from them, and I shudder in delight at the touch of his tongue.

“Play?” I whisper.

And he smiles. “Play. Before I need to do shit today.”

I gasp softly, my nipples beading and a light electric current running through me at the thought of X-rated play with him.

The man I want. The man I don’t like. It’s such a heady dichotomy that it’s hard to think straight, especially when his fingers travel down my body to push the shirt I stole from his room up over my head.

“There’s a new law.” He strokes my thighs, making me shiver, and he’s moving up. “You’re not allowed to wear underwear in the apartment. Unless I say so.”

He nudges one of my legs, pushing it so he can trace the lines and indents of my silk-covered pussy.

“I’m not stripping for you every time you decide to appear.” There’s more sharpness to my words than I wanted, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You will if I tell you to. Because if you don’t, you know what’ll happen.”

A coldness slips through my veins, tempering the rising heat inside. “You’ll withdraw your help and protection for my family.”

His hand goes still, pressed against my covered slit.

“Fuck no.” He leans in and says in my ear, “Your cousin’s only fifteen. You can paint me as big a monster as you like, but I don’t jeopardize the lives of children.”

For some reason, out of everything he’s said to me, I believe that. At the core of the words, I believe him. With Dad and the business, I think I do, too, but there’s something wrapped around that kind of help, something dark-edged and hidden.

But this? It’s clear. Honest.

And I want to move and make him touch me. I want to seduce him, to overwhelm him, to make him unravel the way he’s made me. I don’t even realize I’m moving my hips until he starts laughing.

“Red, look at you, all hot and bothered and practically in pieces. So fucking hot. Are you listening? Did you even hear me? I said I don’t hurt kids.”

“Or puppies?” I snap, hating that he just called me out.

He grins. “I prefer kittens. Less predictable.” He starts to move again, this time trailing his fingers up over my clit and then up. “But no, I’m not hurting puppies, either. And you know punishment is what happens when you don’t do as I say.”

He’s at my nipple now and he pinches it, making me arch at the sudden bite of pleasure-pain. “I think I’ll start now.”

“For what?”

He gives the T-shirt a light tug. “Let’s call it general disobedience. You stole my shirt, you ignored the lingerie I got you. The fact?—”

He stops.

“The fact?”

A strange expression comes over his beautiful features, but he just shakes his head and lets me go as he stands. “Up, Scarlett.”

I push up into a sitting position and the air in my lungs whooshes out. This is fake and he’s getting his rocks off with me, knowing I don’t want to be here, knowing I want him against my will.

He could just buy his way into society—something I’ll never understand—by not touching me, but no doubt it makes him extra hard.

The fake thing should be enough.

I let out a breath, my eyes traveling over his body, his blond hair a little damp. I sweep my tongue over my lips as my gaze traces the way the jeans cup his ass. My God, it’s beyond perfection and into the realm of wicked sin. The denim’s old, faded, and I’m a little shocked he’s not covered in ink. He’s the type who should be.

It’s fake, dammit. All of this. Don’t get caught up. Don’t?—

Malone’s cock strains against his jeans. When he looks at me, I don’t know if it’s the command in his eyes or that thing I can’t quite grasp in the depths of his stare, but I drop to my knees and reach for him, ignoring the thoughts looping through my mind.

His expression becomes a canvas of dark, unfettered lust and his mouth curls up. “You want this?” He cups his cock in the jeans.

“Yes.” I don’t know where the word comes from, but it’s there, because any self-respect fled the moment I fell to my knees. Like it does every time he looks at me with that command, all those unspoken words.

“You’re going to have to work for it.”

“It’s early,” I say, my brain desperately scrambling for a foothold on sanity. “I have work.”

“Bullshit. Today’s when you usually go to your father’s. You’re going to still do that, and you’ll poke around. But I’ll tell you when.” He looks down at me and walks to the door. “Crawl.”

“But—”

“Crawl. You’re going to suck my cock, and then if you’re lucky, I’ll let you sit on my face.”

My mouth starts to water. Take what I can get, that’s my plan. I’m a jumble of need, of wild thoughts that tangle and change, except at the very core.

Hate him, loathe him, or mildly dislike this man and all he stands for, the fact is I want him. I like the sex.

Like is way too mild a word for what I actually feel, but I keep it, because it feels safer, gives me the illusion of land, or safety in these wild and turbulent seas.

“I’ll sweeten the pot, I’ll even give you money to go shopping.”

“That’s insulting on all kinds of levels.”

“Maybe when you sit on my face you can try and smother me.”

“That’s the dream,” I say.

And he laughs. “Crawl.”

I do. When it comes to him and what he has that I want, dignity doesn’t exist. I move across the floor, and he keeps moving back, beckoning me. It doesn’t matter that my hands and knees hurt from last night and the hard cement of the warehouse floor, because right now I’m focused on him.

If I’m focused on him, then I don’t feel it as much, and there’s something in me, pushing me, through the humiliating fact I’m crawling, through the bites of pain.

Once he’s in the living room, he finally stops, standing there looking like a blond god, and he watches me, his gaze hungry and feral.

“Come on, Red,” he says, undoing the top button of his jeans. “Shake that ass for me. Give me a show.”

Malone waits until I’m almost at his feet and he turns, goes to the couch, and picks something up. Handcuffs.

Something in me lurches with need at the sight of them.

“On your knees and turn.”

I glare at him, He keeps pushing things to different levels that I’m never ready for, like he is right now. “You just made me?—”

“I’m aware of what I made you do. If you want the orgasm you know I can give you, you’ll get on your fucking knees and put your hands behind your back and turn.”

“I hate you.”

He comes up and slides a hand over my hair. “I know, but you want me, and that makes both the hate and the want so much more fucking delicious.”

I grit my teeth and put my hands behind my back. Crouching down, he slides the cool metal over my wrists and snaps them into place. Then he grabs the edge of the T-shirt, pulls it up and over my head, and wraps it around my wrists like a double bind.

My heart starts to beat fast as heat pools in my pussy, making my clit throb.

The cool air makes my nipples bead tighter, and then he stands in front of me and unzips his jeans, pulling his hard, thick cock from the soft, old denim. He starts to jerk himself, slowly.

My gaze is locked on the bead of precum glistening on the head. It’s a beautiful thing, his cock. I don’t even realize I’ve made a mewling sound until he speaks.

“When you make that little needy moan, it makes me harder. Open your mouth, Scarlett.”

I do and his cock’s immediately there, pushing into me. Stretching my mouth open. I try to suck him down, but he’s the one in control. Malone grips my hair and thrusts in all the way, making me gag, and he holds it at the back of my throat.

“When you gag, it’s like a gift. The movement massages me. And it makes me want to hammer the shit out of you.” He pulls almost all the way out and I drag in a breath of air before he does it again.

He thrusts in hard, pulls out, then thrusts in. Each time a little harder, rougher, a little deeper. I keep trying to swallow him down because having him in my mouth is heaven. It’s invasive, slightly uncomfortable, and something I need like air.

It makes me throb all over, but my clit feels it most of all.

He’s got the control over how he does it, how he fucks my mouth. But I’ve got control, too. He wants what I have. I could bite, I could drag my mouth off him, and yet I don’t. But knowing I could, it surges a shaft of power through me as his cock keeps plundering my mouth. I know I’m drooling, and it slicks the way for him.

I suck him hard, trying to get more and more. I love the fullness and his taste, that salty-sweet of his precum. I fucking love the groans he makes, the way he starts to swell, the way his control slips, the grip that tightens in my hair.

And I go at him as much as I can. I want his cum. I need to feel it hit the back of my throat. I need to swallow. I need to show him what I can do, what I want to do.

I just need.

I’m a flaming ball of want and desire. And when I hear his guttural sound, I suck harder and harder until his cock jerks. I don’t let him come down my throat, though. I manage to pull back a little so his dick squirts hot cum into my mouth. I tug at him so hard that he shudders, cock twitching before he pulls free.

“Fuck.”

Then I wait until he’s looking at me, a little unsteady, his cock still hard, and I open my mouth so he can see what I did to him, what he gave me as a reward.

“Oh. Fuck.” He stares at me. “Fuck, Scarlett, you filthy, filthy girl. Fuck.”

I hold it there. Waiting, and he slumps down to sit on the floor.

“Keep that mouth open.”

I do as I’m told as he runs his fingers down over me, and I jump and shiver at his electric touch.

He grabs the delicate silk of my panties with both hands and rips them in two, so I’m exposed to him. “Swallow.”

Closing my mouth, I do just that. “Now come here.”

It’s a little hard with my hands bound, but I move forward on my knees. He grabs my hair and pulls me in for a hard, wild kiss. His tongue starts out like an invading cock, and then it turns into seduction, just as crazed and hard. When he finishes kissing me, I’m wetter than I was minutes before.

He slides down farther beneath me and tugs me so I’m over his head and my heart’s slamming against my ribs, the heat in my veins a furnace.

Malone blows on my pussy. “Now, this is a fucking view.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can stay up.”

“I bet you will.” He wraps his hands around my thighs and guides me down to his mouth.

It’s explosive, that touch, an inferno of sensations as his tongue moves along my slit, pushing up into me, thrusting, and then he moves, closing his lips and tongue over my clit.

I have to fight to stay up, I’m pulled in so many directions. Down into the pleasure he’s unleashing and then the way I need to balance. What I want is to sink down into it all, sink into the depths of his mouth, and when he moves one hand to push two fingers into me, I lose it.

Everything explodes inside of me, and I rock against him, grinding hard, only my core muscles keeping me upright. His hand bites into my thigh, my knees, and I keep my legs locked against his head.

I’m literally sitting on his face, pushing into him because I want him to suffer. I want him to feel some of what I do when he makes me do things, when his cock cuts off my air. I want to unleash. I want to come. The build that starts as his mouth bites and pulls, his tongue strokes, and his fingers curl within me, it’s ready to consume me whole.

The pressure is big, getting bigger, and all my nerve endings coil down into this. The pleasure, the release is there, right there, and he’s pushing me to it. Suddenly, I explode and shake and shudder, my body clenching and every endorphin in me erupts, releasing all the good things in the world.

I’m bright light.

Floating.

A total mess of orgasmic bliss.

When I come down from the euphoric cloud, I’m no longer on him. He’s got me in his arms and he’s stroking my hair.

I’m trembling, and all I can remember is the fracture of the orgasm, the way it changed the world, just for those precious moments.

“Up.” Malone eases me off him. He stands and helps me up, and then he turns me around and undoes the cuffs. “Good girl. Now listen up. After you shower, I’m going to tell you what I need you to do today at your father’s.”

I just stare at him, reality coming back with a bang. Pun absolutely intended.

When I get to Dad’s place, it’s quiet, empty. Usually I’m here later than this, not midmorning.

After I showered and dressed, I left the apartment with the intention to check out my dad’s office for information. I don’t know what Malone was doing. He’d locked himself in his office. I didn’t bother to let him know I was going. Bruised and delicate, I quietly slipped out. Bruised and delicate in a way that has nothing to do with the physical, and everything to do with the emotional.

Once I get to the townhouse, I grit my teeth and trudge to Dad’s office. I wander around, rifling through the file folders in unlocked cabinets, searching for anything out of the ordinary, like Malone asked me to.

Unease trickles down my spine when I pull at the lowest drawer. It doesn’t budge. Maybe there’s something in there.

Malone wants all the information my dad and uncle might not know… or might not give.

If this’ll help them, help us, end the whole Malone business, then…

I take in a deep breath and start trying to jimmy the lock with a letter opener.

The front door slams, and I freeze when voices trickle in.

Uncle Grant.

And…

Malone.