Sinning in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 2)

“Why are you crying?” he demands, grabbing me and gathering me close.

I don’t know. I’m not crying on purpose. I’m just… I don’t have the mental capacity to figure it out right now. I caress his face, trying to steady my breathing, and burrow close to his chest.

His arms tighten around me protectively and he presses his lips to my forehead. He gives me a minute to get my shit together, holding me tightly. Once I can function on a semi-normal level, I tip my head up and worship him, dragging my lips along his jaw, kissing every inch of him I encounter.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I tell him.

“What was that?” he asks, still mildly concerned.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, shaking my head. “My body was just—I was feeling so many things. It’s nothing you did—nothing bad, anyway. That was perfect. Absolutely perfect,” I assure him.

“Yeah?” he asks, still sounding a little unsure. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It was a good cry, if that makes sense.”

“You could’ve stopped me if you didn’t like it,” he tells me.

“I did,” I assure him, my eyes widening. “Don’t think that. I did like it. I want to do it again soon. I promise. I loved every minute.”

That seems to mollify him, but he still mutters, “I told you I didn’t want to go hard on you the first time.”

I kiss his lips, then snuggle against his chest. “I’m glad you did. I want to experience every kind of lovemaking with you. I want it hard, tender, and everywhere in between. I want every single piece of you, Sin. I never want you to hold anything back from me.”

Affection glistens in his dark eyes as he looks down at me, his big, beautifully scarred hand tenderly caressing my jaw. “Same here.”

46

Laurel

When my eyes drift open, the room is still fairly dark due to Sin’s black-out curtains, but I hear him moving around the room quietly, getting ready for the day.

Contentment rolls over me as flashes of last night shoot across my mind—his powerful body moving over mine, how great it felt to finally have him inside me. There’s a vague ache between my legs from how rough he was. I squeeze the muscles, relishing the faint soreness. I want more.

“Come back to bed,” I request, lazily reaching an arm toward him. “I want more sex and more cuddles.”

Chuckling lightly, he crosses the room and comes to stand by my side of the bed. “As tempting as that sounds, I can’t. I was actually just about to wake you up.”

“To give me more sex and cuddles?” I ask hopefully.

“No, to tell you to get your cute little ass in the kitchen and make breakfast.”

Groaning, I ask, “Why does your sexist bullshit turn me on? You’ve broken my brain.”

“Breakfast and coffee for nine,” he tells me, smacking me on the ass. “Get up.”

I roll over and throw the blankets off me, but instead of getting up, I start massaging my breasts. His dark eyes narrow, but he pauses in preparing to button his shirt and lets it hang open. I sigh, letting my hand drift down my abdomen, squeezing my thighs together. “Sin, don’t you want to play with me?”

His nostrils flare and he all but glares at me. It startles me briefly, but then he comes over, grabs my ankle, and yanks me halfway off the bed. I squeal in surprise, grabbing onto the bedding to keep from falling. He doesn’t pull me all the way off though, just close to the edge, and I feel him behind me.

“Ass up,” he tells me.

Excitement floods me and I climb to my knees, putting my butt in the air and clutching a fistful of blankets. The sound of his zipper gets me short of breath, and before I can even look back at him, he shoves into me. I’m a little raw from last night and he didn’t prepare me, so there’s a little resistance, a little burn, but my eyes roll back and I sink back onto him, craving his possession.

“That what you want?” he asks lowly.

“Yes,” I murmur, my head jerking back as he fists my hair and yanks it.

“Rafe’s gonna be here in a few minutes,” he murmurs, pounding into me again. “Every time he looks at you, he’s gonna think about me doing this.”