14 | The Visions Sin
M ac’s holding me in his massive arms. He feels so safe, but his eyes make me feel like I should be protecting him.
“What’s wrong?” I breathe.
Mac locks his brown eyes with me, but they swirl with emotions. He looks like he’s going to lose it.
I tighten my arms around his neck, giving him a sense of comfort.
He starts talking.
“The visions and my dream…” pausing, he breaks eye contact, “it’s all too much.” Mac grips my body like he’s making sure I’m real.
I lift his face to look at me before asking, “You mean your sister? Those dreams.”
Mac’s eyes widened like he’d seen a ghost, releasing me like he couldn’t believe it.
I take that opportunity to move off of him, sitting beside him on the bed. I explain, “Shy was in the room last night. We thought you were having a nightmare. He said it was about your dead sister.”
Mac’s face softens. “Both our sisters have been haunting me. I see Ray and Faith.”
Hearing his words surprises me, and I sit up straight, dropping my hands.
“What? My sister?” I ask, making sure I heard him right.
Mac gets up from the bed, running his hand through his wild head of hair, then down his face, rubbing his beard.
I wait for him to get his thoughts together as he paces around the room. As he takes his cut off, I scan the huge room, taking it all in.
“You girls have got me all fucked up. Faith, Raydene, you, and…” He pauses, stopping, he turns to look at me. “Your fucking red hair.”
I reach for my hair, pulling on a strand from behind my ear to cover my scar. It’s a habit. Sometimes, I don’t even know I’m doing it.
Mac’s face tightens. “Don’t.”
I let go of my hair. He’s told me more than once to stop covering my face.
He sits down at a small table. Bending, he places his elbows on his knees and clenches his head in his hands.
I want to go to him, but I don’t. He’s dealing with something, and I want him to talk to me.
As he’s looking at his feet, he begins talking. “After my sister Faith died in a car crash with my auntie, I’ve had visions and dreams. At first, I always tried to save her, but I couldn’t. Then she would say, ‘Find us’ or ‘Her’ or some shit about me saving ‘Her.’ I always thought the ‘Her’ was my sister. It was confusing.” He shakes his head. “Through the years, they would come and go. I’d have visions of a redhead walking toward me. Hence, the reason for my fixation with redheads. Always have, so I thought it was just my conscience fucking with me.”
He pauses, unlacing his boots.
I still stay silent.
He chuckles. “Your sister tried to wake me from a dream once.”
“Wait. What?” I blurt out without thinking. My mind instantly thinks, so she has slept with him. My heart drops.
Mac looks up, realizing what he said, and moves to the bed, but I scoot away from him until I’m against the headboard. He stops and sits on the edge of the bed.
“It wasn’t like that. Your sister and I never had sex. We were partying pretty hard, and we crashed in a room downstairs. I had a nightmare, and she couldn’t wake me up. She slapped me so hard it hurt for a day.”
I feel my body relax and fold my knees to my chest.
Mac continues, “Look, I’m not going to say that I wasn’t attracted to her or that we didn’t mess around, but it was all innocent shit. She had a boyfriend. Remember, she picked him.”
We both sit there in silence for a minute, staring at each other, until he blurts out, “My sister told me to find the girl with two faces. She told me to help her—to find her. Like it was one person.”
I inhale a big breath.
“About two years ago, my sister’s messages started coming more frequently and more cryptic. I ignored them. Instead, I got more high or drunk to escape them.” He pauses, getting back up again to pace the room.
His body fills the massive room with his broad shoulders, enormous chest, and lumberjack legs. I gulp, trying to control my hormones as he continues talking.
“Until after your sister went missing, no one knew. No one thought it was weird. She asked me to help her and then said no, just kidding. Everyone thought it was because I was hooked on her, but really it was…” He pauses to look over at me. I’m giving him my full attention. Dropping my knees, I sit up, waiting for what he’s going to say next.
I egg him on. “Really, it was…”
“I was seeing her in my dreams too. Both of them would tell me to find us. Come find her. The girl with two faces.”
I gasp. Is she dead? No, I would know. I still feel her. She’s alive.
I’m lost in thought and don’t notice he’s moved, placing himself on the bed right in front of me.
“No, I don’t think she’s dead. I think they were telling me to find you,” he says softly.
Tears fill my eyes, and I speak for the first time. “She’s not dead. I would feel it.”
Mac grabs my hand. “I know. I think all these visions and shit were about you and your sister. For me to find you and help.”
His dead sister and mine have been telling him to find me.
A tear escapes. “But what if it was to find her? She’s missing. We need to find her.”
Mac nods. “I agree. But you are the girl in my dreams. The red hair. The double face. Protect you. Find you. Save you.”
We both sit in silence, taking in what he’s just told me.
Is he here to save me? Protect me?
I blurt out, “What if she’s in love with you? What if it means you’re supposed to save and protect her?”
Mac reaches out, pushing my hair behind my ear, and smiles. “She is not in love with me. It wasn’t like that. What if I’m to save and protect both of you?”
I close my eyes and lean into his touch.
He continues, “And the moment I saw you , I knew you were the one. I feel completely different toward you than your sister. I think she feels the same way. I was a way out for her and a way to save you.”
I start to cry. For so many years, I’ve wanted to be free. To be able to travel and see my sister. All these what ifs are killing me.
Freaking out, I begin to ramble nonsense, “What if something happens to her? What if they find me or her? What if…”
Mac lifts me up and places me on his lap, straddling him. He uses both hands, pushing my hair out of my face as I keep my eyes closed.
“Sin, look at me,” he murmurs as I weep. “Cindy. Look at me,” he demands.
Using my real name snaps me out of it, and I open them to see his chocolate-brown eyes staring back at me.
“I got you,” he says reassuringly, smiling. “I got both of you.”
I grip his face with both hands and smash my mouth against his. He releases my hair, pulling me closer to him as I devour him. I hope he’s right because I can’t stop now, even if I want to. If Raydene likes him, we’ll deal with that when we find her, but right now, I need him.
Rocking against him, I feel his length rub against my jeans. I break the kiss with a guttural moan. It’s been so long, and he feels so fucking right. I throw my head back and start to move hard against him.
“Fuck yes,” he groans, kissing and nipping at my neck.
I wrap my arms around him, squeeze him to my chest, and run my hands through his hair. I start to rock faster.
“So. Fucking. Sinful,” he says between kisses.
I’m lost in the feeling of my body getting closer to the brink of orgasm. I don’t care if we’re fully clothed. I want this. I need this.
But Mac has a different idea and flips us over in one motion. He reaches under my jacket, then my shirt, shoving his hand down my baggy jeans so he can slide his hand into my panties. Going right for the one spot I need him to.
Moaning breathlessly.
Clenching the bed, I focus on his skillful hands as he slips in and out of my wetness, his thumb swirling around my clit.
I start to writhe against his hand, seeing stars.
I feel him moving above me, but I’m so lost in chasing my orgasm I don’t care.
“Come for me,” he orders, and I scream out my release.
He keeps swirling his fingers around as I ride my high, and he kisses up my neck. I giggle, feeling his beard tickle my ear.
Mac lays down next to me. Pulling his hand out of my jeans, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.
Moaning, he says, “Christ, I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Hearing him say that, I turn into his body. “Why don’t you,” I purr.
Mac grabs my chin, lifting my face so our eyes meet. “Oh, I will be, but first, let’s chat.”
Feeling rejected and disappointed, I move back.
He chuckles, pulling me back against him. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t act like that. I want and will have you in a few minutes, but first, I thought I’d try to get to know you better.”
I look up at him and ask sarcastically, “What would you like to know about me before fucking me?”
He snickers, leans down, and takes my mouth hard. I deepen the kiss, relaxing into him.
When we break for air, he asks, “Do you want to go back to Texas to your job?”
This surprises me. I answer, “Why?”
“I want to know if you’re going to be leaving me once we find your sister…” He pauses, searching my eyes, and when I don’t say anything, he continues, “Do you have someone or something back there?”
I think about this for a minute as we stare at each other. Do I have anything to go back to?
“I love my job. I’m good at it, but I don’t need or have to go back. I don’t have anyone back there but my best friend, Phoenix.” His eyes tighten, so I clarify, “Phoenix is the only ‘girl’ friend I have.”
He smiles. “You’re a bartender, right?”
I tease, “I’m a mixologist.”
He laughs. “Well, fuck me. That I’ll have to see. You do know I own a lounge, right?”
I shake my head because I didn’t know that. I haven’t been able to research him yet. I’ve only looked up their club.
“Sooo, you don’t have to go back—check. One more question. Why the baggy clothes? Aren’t bartenders or mixologists supposed to show off their bodies?” he asked, teasingly squeezing me.
I push him to his back, straddle him, and slide off my jacket without saying anything. Before pulling off my sweatshirt, I tease, “What, you don’t like my baggy clothes?”
“Fuck no!” he declares, gripping my hips and moving me over his hardness.
I laugh, but when I see the look of desire in his eyes, I become self-conscious. I look nothing like my sister. We are so different in many ways—she’s flawless, and I’m scarred.
When Mac sees my hesitation, he sits up and holds me around the waist.
“Wow, where did you go?”
I place both my hands on his face, feeling his beard. “I’m nothing like my sister. She’s flawless, and I’m scarred. She’s so much more than me.”
Mac lifts a hand and caresses my scar gently with the back of his fingers. “Thankfully, you are nothing like your sister. I don’t want your sister. I want you—all of you.”
I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him deep, giving him my all. Breaking the kiss, I move off him and stand next to the bed. He turns, kicking his legs off the side of the bed, probably ready to pounce if I run, but instead, I kick off my Converse while unbuckling my belt, which is holding up my jeans. Once it’s unhooked, the jeans slide right off me.
Mac grabs his shirt and discards it, showing me all his glorious tattoos. At least I know he’s a tattoo guy, so let’s hope he also likes women with tattoos.
Grabbing my long-sleeved shirt, I lift it, and when I do, I say, “You know my friend Phoenix? Well, she’s a tattoo artist.”
“Holy shit!” Mac says as I pull my shirt over my head. “That’s fucking hot. Christ, you’re fucking beautiful.” He points at my tattoo. “That’s beautiful,” he says, mesmerized.
Once I drop the shirt, he moves off the bed and reaches for me. I stand there in my bra and panties on full display. His eyes are wide as he takes in my full tattoo. As he turns me around to admire it, I explain, “When I met Phoenix, I loved her shoulder tattoo of a phoenix. I told her I wanted one, but I wanted a rising phoenix and for it to be much bigger and more detailed.”
Mac’s fingers trace the inkwork that covers my whole side. My back side is the tail, and the wing wraps around to the front of me where the head and other wing expand out—beautifully made in black, yellow, and red flames and fire.
When he still doesn’t speak, I continue, “I have scars all over from when I was taken. When I had this done, I became Sin, this badass bartender leaving behind the scared little Cindy.”
Mac circles me, and when he’s back in front of me, he smiles down at me, placing his hands on my hips.
“Damn, Sin. I’m speechless. It’s fucking so beautiful and badass. You’re perfect,” he says before mashing our bodies together, taking my mouth hard and demanding.
I grab his head, entwining my fingers in his hair.
Mac lifts me, grabbing my legs and wrapping them around him. “Now, I’m going to take what I want. Do you have a problem with that?”
I laugh. “It’s about time.”
He throws me on the bed, and I squeal in the air. Landing, I move to the center of the bed and watch him discard the rest of his clothes and grab a condom. I start to laugh when he moves to get on the bed like a tiger about ready to pounce on his prey.
Mac moves between my legs, leaning back on his shins. He grabs his massive cock, and with a smirk, he asks, “One last question. Is the red hair real, or do you dye it?”
I smile, watching him rip the foil and sleeve his cock before lowering himself above me.
I reach up, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer to me. I answer, “It’s real,” before kissing him.
As he grips his cock, sliding it between my wet folds, he breathes, “Fuckin’ perfect,” before slamming inside of me.
I throw my head back in ecstasy, exclaiming, “Yes!!”
Mac growls, “Mine!” As he lifts my legs, it allows him to go deeper.
I move my hand, gripping my tits as he thrusts into me faster and faster.
We don’t speak. All you can hear are our grunts, moans, and the slapping of our bodies colliding.
He consumes me, and I’m lost in all my feelings and emotions. I open my eyes to see him intensely watching me. Desire and lust mixed with so much more swirl around in his eyes as he moans above me.
I grip his neck as he grips my ass, lifting me, moving me right where his cock hits my G-spot. I cry out but don’t break eye contact.
Sweat beads over his forehead. He grunts, “Fuck yeah. So fucking good.”
My orgasm is tipping the edge, and I start to chant ‘yes’ over and over again.
Mac’s thrusts become erratic, slamming harder and faster. The veins in his neck start to protrude as his body tightens. I try to hold on so we can come together, but I’m not going to last much longer.
I try to speak, but only a squeak comes out.
Mac’s face turns red. He demands, “Come! Aw, fuck, sweetie, come now!”
We both cry out as we climax at the same time.
Mac keeps pumping into me as we ride out our high, but eventually, he collapses on top of me as we finish catching our breaths.
With his face next to my ear, he breathes, “Fucking perfect.”
Smiling, I wrap my arms around him and reply, “Hell yeah.”