Chapter 27
Later that night, I couldn’t sleep, tossing around in my bed like a dying fish on land.
I was a sweaty mess just thinking about the way Sinclair and Dacre had pulled me undone, right there at the dinner table. Dacre possessed the most masterful fingers, I already knew that. With a killer mouth, too. But that was the first time Sinclair had touched me, other than our incredibly frustrating kiss near the golf green.
But it wasn’t just frustration I was feeling this time, it was outright annoyance. Sinclair had a girlfriend. A long-term, committed, very serious girlfriend given the amount of time they spent together.
Which meant he had no right to be finger fucking me under his father’s dining table.
My mind flashed with the way he’d sucked his fingers after making me come all over them, and I squeezed my eyes and my thighs shut at the memory.
Fuck.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen.
I picked up my phone, glancing at the time. It was past midnight, I should be sleeping—I had a full day of classes tomorrow—but thanks to the brazen sex fiends that were my stepbrothers, sleep wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
If I was going to lie awake, I may as well do it with chocolate. The chef had made the most incredible individual chocolate mousse cakes for dessert, which meant there would be leftovers in the fridge.
Padding down the stairs all the way to the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge to find several of the cakes sitting in their small glass bowls on the middle shelf. I grabbed a spoon and my late-night snack and made a beeline for the stairs, but the sound of metal hitting the hard polished stone floor of the garage stopped me still with fear.
Was someone trying to break into the garage? The staff had all finished for the night, and while some of them lived in the manor and could be called upon any time, there was no way any of them were out in the garage past midnight.
Fear flooded my veins as a thought flitted across my mind.
Had my father sent someone to try again?
I stood frozen with indecision, the dessert and spoon gripped tightly in my hands.
“Fuck,” came a familiar voice and the clanging of tools again.
Marching to the garage door, I flung it open, following the sounds until I circled around an old Mercedes that Sinclair was fixing up.
He was wearing another of those black fitted long-sleeve shirts with a pair of loose-fitting jeans that hung low on his hips.
He must have heard me approach, because he stood tall, sweat glistening his forehead and his dark hair mussed in a way that was so damn hot I had to resist the urge to shove him against the wall and rub my body against his.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me like you want to devour me and not that cake in your hands?” he asked, his expression on lockdown like always.
The guy fingered me during a fish appetizer a few hours ago, and he still wanted to dish out the ice king routine?
“What are you doing out here?” I snapped back, discarding my snack on his tool trolley.
“Fixing my car. I can’t sleep.”
“Good, because we need to talk.”
He tossed a wrench onto the tool trolley with clang, eyes narrowed in my direction. “Do we? What about, Princess?”
I stepped closer, annoyance flaring inside me at this casually dismissive tone. He knew what the hell I wanted to talk to him about, but he was going to make me spell it out anyway.
“How about how you played with me under the table while my mother and your father were mere feet away?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he wouldn’t let a full smirk break free. “You didn’t seem to have any complaints at the time.”
His casual arrogance was infuriating.
“Of course I didn’t have any complaints at the time, I was too busy coming down off an epic orgasm.”
He leaned against the side of the hood, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then you’re fucking welcome.”
I marched over, closing the space between us until we were face to face. “Oh, you’re so fucking smug about it? What would your girlfriend have to say about you burying your fingers inside another girl?”
His expression hardened in an instant, and he pushed to his feet, forcing me to move back, out of his way. “My girlfriend is none of your concern.”
I scoffed. “Apparently she’s none of yours either.”
He rounded on me, backing me up until my spine collided with the tool bench against the wall. “What exactly is the problem here? You’re jealous that I have a girlfriend? Or pissed off that it means you won’t have the opportunity to come on my fingers again?”
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. His arrogance was fucking boundless.
But he might be a little right. Clearly tonight had been a lapse in judgment for him. Maybe he was like Presley and the thrill of public sex got him off. Maybe it was the illicitness of what we did that had him participating, not his desire to see me come apart for him.
The thought stabbed me deep down in my gut. Because while Sinclair and I might pretend to hate each other, we also wanted each other, too.
Or at least… I wanted him.
His hands landed on the bench on either side of me, his eyes bouncing around my face, assessing me in that way I couldn’t stand “No need to answer, I already know what it is.”
I lifted my chin, bringing our faces even closer. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
The corner of his mouth curved again and the desire to grip the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine reared hard and fast.
“I know you’re holding back right now,” he said, his voice low. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing on my mouth like my lips had personally offended him. “I know you think about the kiss we shared in the hallway, and what it would be like to do it again.”
I sucked in a slow breath, my lungs expanding, and my breasts brushing his chest. My nipples peaked at the contact, shining through my thin silk camisole like headlights in the dark.
He tilted his head to the other side, his gaze narrowing on my exposed throat. His mouth dropped to my ear, his breath skating over my skin and making me shiver. “I know after tonight, you’re wondering what it would be like to have my mouth on you, not just my fingers.”
I swallowed hard, not even bothering to try to hide it. I wanted him and he knew it.
But he wanted me, too.
I quirked a brow at him. “Are you talking about me right now? Or you?”
He stilled, pulling back to look at me with what seemed like a hint of pride. “Maybe both.”
Silence passed between us, our loaded breaths the only sound.
My expression filled with challenge. “Then prove it.”
It was all the invitation he needed. His hand slid into my hair, pulling me to him, and his mouth closed over mine, just like it had the day near the golf green. Only this time instead of just hunger, his kiss was edged with urgency.
He angled my head, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and owning me so completely. If he was that good when he was kissing my mouth, I could only imagine how hot it would be when his tongue was between my legs. No wonder his girlfriend clung to him whenever they were out together. I wouldn’t want another girl to steal him when he kissed like that either.
The realization sobered me immediately, and I put both hands to his chest, shoving him off. “We need to stop.”
His eyes narrowed for the briefest second. “Why?”
“Because you have a girlfriend, Sinclair.”
He shifted closer, pressing his pelvis to mine. The hard length of him thrust between my legs, jamming me against the tool bench. “You don’t care about her, so don’t pretend you do.”
When he gripped my face and stole the breath from my lungs with another punishing kiss, I didn’t have it in me to protest anymore. My hands gripped his waist, just above his jeans, clawing at him and tugging him close.
He thrust his hips forward, his hard cock grazing my clit, and I let out a small moan.
Fuck, he was so good at this. Arena was right, Sinclair was just as dominant in the bedroom as he was in life. And it turned me the hell on.
He pulled back, staring at me with a heat in his eyes that set my body on fire.
He nodded at my top. “Take it off.”
I hesitated.
“Don’t act like you don’t fucking want this, Dempsey.”
From the giant bulge coming from behind his zipper, he wanted this too.
I reached for the hem of my camisole and tugged it over my head, dropping it to the floor. I gripped the edge of the tool bench, eyes trained on Sinclair as he drank me in, wearing nothing but my tiny black satin sleep shorts.
I wished he’d say something, anything, to prove I wasn’t the only one desperate for this.
“Come here,” he beckoned, barely moving.
I pushed off the workbench and closed the three paces between us. His hands glided over my hips and down to my ass. The feeling of his hands on me had me soaring on the inside. His touch was filled with purpose, like he was memorizing me for later.
He tugged at the backs of my thighs, taking my legs out from under me, and I gripped his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist. His mouth claimed mine once more, devouring me like he’d been starved his whole life until this very moment.
His confidence—his dominance—made me wetter than I think I’d ever been.
Carrying me in his arms, he stopped in front of his red Porsche, lowering me to the hood. “I know how much you like this car.”
I shrugged, unable to tear my eyes away from him to even glance at the car. “It’s okay.”
His lips twitched in an almost smile. “You’re a terrible fucking liar, Princess.”
Had I had fantasies of me riding him in the front seat? Yes.
Did he need to know that? Hell no.
He reached for the hem of my sleep shorts, and my hands instantly pressed back into the hood behind me so I could lift my hips.
“Who knew you were such an obedient little thing?” Sinclair said as he dragged the shorts down my legs torturously slowly.
“I’m a lot of things,” I said, letting my legs fall open. “When properly motivated.”
He stared down at me, his jaw ticking like he was forcing himself to hold back.
Restrained.
It was the perfect word to describe him. In life and in this moment. Sinclair held back, held himself together, held himself to a different standard than others. He wanted to be the best, the smartest, the most calculating man in the room. But what would happen if he just let go?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and Sinclair reached for the button on his jeans, his eyes trained on me as he flicked it open.
I swallowed hard, his fingers sliding down the zipper. He let them fall to his feet, kicking them away, his thick, hard cock sitting proudly against his stomach.
Holy shit, how the hell was I supposed to fit that anywhere inside me?
And was that… a piercing?
Four straight silver bars with balls on each end pierced the underside of his cock. My core clenched at the thought of how that would feel inside me.
He stroked himself slowly, eyes trained on me. “Like what you see, Princess?”
“Aside from the fact that you’re about to ruin my insides, yes.”
He smirked, climbing over me until I was sprawled beneath him on the hood of his expensive red sports car. “Don’t worry, I know you can take it.”
Fuck, the dominating, self-assured way he spoke to me, even when he was about to fuck me senseless, flooded my body with heat. His talented mouth closed over my throat, my breasts, my nipples, soaking me between my thighs.
When he slid a finger inside, his brow quirked. “You’re so fucking ready for me, Princess.”
I nodded, squirming with desire. I was so ready to be filled by him.
Leaning slightly off me, he gripped the base of his cock, lining it up with my entrance. “Hold on tight, this might hurt at first.”
I lifted my head in time to see his thick cock slam into me in one hard thrust. My head dropped back, hitting the hood of the car, and I didn’t care one damn bit. Because Sinclair Aston was finally fucking me, and it was consuming every coherent thought in my head.
“Fuck, Princess, you’re so damn tight.”
His hands were splayed on the hood of the car on either side of me, but he shifted his weight, fingers closing around my throat. He held me down, pulling out and thrusting back in, making us groan in unison.
“Oh my god, Sinclair… more. I need more.”
I could feel the piercing hitting all the right spots inside me, heightening every feeling and sensation. His grip tightened and he thrust in again, every nerve ending in my body lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree.
Sex with Sinclair was every bit as hot and all-consuming as I’d imagined it.
Several more thrusts, and I was teetering on the edge of oblivion, ready to ride the waves of pleasure peaking inside me.
“You going to come on my cock just like you did on my fingers?” Sinclair coaxed, his muscles taut with tension as he slid into me.
He hit even deeper this time, and my body arched off the hood. “Yes, oh my God, yes.”
“That’s it, baby, let me hear it.”
He dropped down, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.
The combined sensations of his tongue on my body, his fingers at my throat, and his cock driving into me pushed me over the edge. He thrust in harder and deeper, and I moaned his name on repeat.
His whole body tightened and he swore, pulling out of me just as my own orgasm ebbed, spilling over me, coating my stomach and painting me between my legs.
I stared down at him, this masterpiece of a man spilling his seed all over my skin. It turned me the hell on.
He pressed his fists to the hood either side of my head, both of us totally spent and satiated. “Fuck, that was so damn hot.”
I nodded, too wrung out to speak.
Sinclair took my hands, tugging me upright so I was sitting on the edge of the hood.
He reached for a clean towel in the drawer of the tool trolley, using it to wipe me down.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said to him, when I tried to take over, but he swatted my hand away.
“I’m not the asshole you think I am, Dempsey.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but it would be a lie.
It was so easy to label Sinclair an asshole and move on. But tonight, I’d seen a different side to him. He was definitely an asshole who had cheated on his girlfriend with his stepsister, but I’d also seen what it looked like when his carefully controlled restraint slipped.
And I wanted to see it again.