Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

“Being subject to your... whims, or whatever.” The word fades into a gasp as he kisses my throat, hard then tickling.

“This is a business plan, Cleo.” He kisses my chin and finds my lips, his low words blowing warm into my mouth. “I won’t be living here in Chattahoochee for much longer,” he breathes. “I want to get you settled before I leave.”

He drags

his lips over my cheeks, my nose, my brow, until my stomach is somewhere below my knees.

“How do you know... I plan to stay?” I ask him as he strokes the skin above my shirt collar. My voice quakes so much, it sounds almost like a sob.

“Do you?” While his eyes burn into mine, his hands smooth my hair back firmly off my forehead, a soothing motion one might use to calm a child.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Would you deal long-term, Cleo? Would you run dealers? Or do you just want something temporary? Something easy?”

The word ‘easy’ makes my neck flush. He snakes an arm around me, pulling me against his warm, hard chest as his hand delves between my legs. He flattens his palm against the inside of my thigh and presses, light but firm, until my legs swing open.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“The pay is good,” he murmurs to my hair. “The three weeks you’re at my place, I’ll make it twelve K.” His mouth covers mine, and he kisses me so hard and well, it makes me dizzy.

“What?” I break away. My heart is racing. “Why?”

His hands frame my face. “That’s thirty-six thousand dollars, Cleo. Deal to your regulars, and sleep in my windowed room.”

One hand slides down to stroke my neck, his fingers dragging lightly over flaming skin. I can feel his forehead brush my cheek as he runs his lips along my jaw.

He breathes, “You are beautiful... you make me want...”

His lips trail down my throat, tickling. When he nears the indention of my collar bone, I feel the soft heat of his tongue and mouth. He moves slowly... softly... taking great care as he sucks my throat—increasing the force until my skin feels like it’s bruising and my body like a rope about to snap.

His arm snakes underneath my shawl, and I feel the weight of his wide palm spread over my thigh. His fingers burn through the cotton of my leggings, then drift to the crease between my legs.

I grip his shoulder. “Kellan...”

I clench my teeth as he settles his fingertips on me, tracing my most tender place as if he’s learning braille.

His mouth sucks toward the collar of my shirt.

I grip the solid muscle of his shoulder. “I—I can’t.”

His thumb strokes the line of my lips. His fingers part them; he’s working his way inside, teasing against the fabric of my leggings.

With the hand still between my legs, he wraps his other arm around me and he pulls me onto his lap. The arm that’s not across my belly, reaching between my legs, is around my chest, kneading my breast. His hard length presses against my backside.

The cotton of my leggings is wet and pliant. The pressure of his fingers is just right, making me lift my hips. I swallow back a moan.

“Kellan... I can’t—” If I do this with him, I’ll be snared. I can tell already, from the way I feel about him. He’s a dangerous temptation, in so many ways. I don’t need that. Don’t want that, I try to tell myself.

“Tell me ‘no,’ Cleo.”

He rocks himself against me, then peels down the waist of my leggings so he can reach inside. His palm brushes my mound as his fingers find their mark. He strokes down toward my center. His finger smears my slickness, making me quiver and pant.

“It’s okay...” he rumbles. “Focus on my fingers.”

He spreads my lips and glides down through my moisture... skating. Then he’s dipping down and curving. His fingertip is pushing into me. He adds another, shoves them deep.

I groan and buck against him.