When Sinners Play (Sinners of Hawthorne University 1)

2

The door has barely shut behind me before a large hand slaps against it, pushing it open. The man with the gorgeous blue-green eyes steps inside after me and shoves the door closed with his foot before turning the lock.

It’s a single-occupancy room that’s seen better days. Graffiti is scrawled on all the walls, and even across the ceiling and the mirror above the sink. But I barely notice any of that. My gaze is locked on the man’s as he stares right back at me.

I noticed his striking features the second

he sat down next to me at the bar, but now that we’re standing face to face in the intimate confines of the bathroom, I have a chance to appreciate how truly fucking gorgeous he is, despite the circles under his eyes and the haunted look that lingers behind his irises even now.

Honestly, with the mood I’m in? I wouldn’t have been picky tonight. As long as the guy had a decent cock and wasn’t missing any teeth, I would’ve dragged him back here for a quick fuck.

But I’m not sorry that my random hookup is hot as hell.

He must like what he sees too, because his gaze rakes over me appreciatively. He tugs his full bottom lip between his teeth, his head tilting slightly to one side. Then he strides across the small room, moving so fast he reaches me almost before I’ve realized he’s moving.

His hand delves into my hair, grabbing it by the roots and tilting my head back as his lips crash down on mine. His other hand is at my back, pinning me to him as his tongue invades my mouth. The kiss is deep and hard, forceful and hungry, as if he’s laying down the ground rules for this hookup—and the only rule is, keep the fuck up.

A flicker of something hot and bright lights inside my belly, something I haven’t felt in so long I’ve almost forgotten I could feel it.

I grab on to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his firm, warm muscles as a hint of something spicy teases my nose. My tongue meets his hard strokes, clashing with his as I kiss him back with the same vicious ferocity as he’s kissing me.

His grip on my hair makes my eyes water, but he makes no move to loosen his grip, keeping my head angled just how he wants it as he drags my bottom lip between his teeth just like he did to his own earlier.

He’s big—bigger than I realized when I was sitting next to him on the barstool. Or maybe it feels that way because he’s made of solid fucking muscle, every bit of him sculpted and powerful. His body seems to dwarf mine, broader and taller and stronger than mine in every way, but that doesn’t stop me from giving back as good as I get, nipping at his lips and raking my nails over the skin of his scalp and neck.

He grunts as I drag my fingers through his tousled brown hair, finally letting go of my blonde and blue strands so that his hands can roam over my body. He slides them over my hips and ass, around the curve of my waist, and over my ribs and breasts, groping and massaging my flesh like he’s trying to lay claim to every fucking inch of me.

My heart is thudding hard in my chest, and I’m gasping in between kisses, stealing breath from his lungs like it could save me from drowning.

Sparks race up and down my limbs, always returning to the coil of heat building low in my belly, and I arch my back as he curves his spine, our bodies molding together despite the difference in our height.

I didn’t expect this. Not any part of it.

I thought we’d be fucking by now—or, hell, maybe even finished already—the temporary release of endorphins momentarily banishing my pain.

Instead, I’m about to come from his kiss alone, to break apart with his cock grinding against me through his pants and his tongue sweeping my mouth like he fucking owns me.

A whimper escapes from my throat, and the sound seems to do something to him.

He growls back at me, almost a warning, as one hand shoves up the hem of my tank top and the other flips open the button of my jeans. He drags my zipper down quickly and then slips his hand inside my panties, groaning when his fingers encounter the slick wetness of my arousal.

“Fuck,” he bites out, dragging his lips away from mine.

He moves like lightning again, like some kind of barely controlled hurricane, shoving my pants and panties down over my hips before picking me up and perching me on the edge of the sink. His hands are rough as he yanks my pants the rest of the way off, slipping off my shoes and underwear too.

I’m bare from the waist down, sitting on the edge of a sink I’m pretty sure isn’t built to hold my weight, and I’m about to tell the gorgeous stranger to put me down when he grabs my thighs with both hands, spreads me open, and licks me.

My head drops back, nearly crashing into the mirror as sensation explodes inside me. I barely choke back a scream of pleasure, turning it into a breathy whine instead. My thighs press against his hold, my legs curling around his shoulders as he laps at me again, crouching on the dirty floor in front of me like this bathroom is his church and I’m his fucking god.

Light dances in my vision as my fingers clutch at his thick, soft hair, unabashedly shoving his face deeper into my pussy.

He grunts in satisfaction, fucking me with his tongue until I’m panting breathlessly, writhing beneath the onslaught.

But apparently, that’s not enough for him.

His tongue goes back to my clit, teasing the little bud in a circular pattern that almost stops my heart as he slides a finger inside me. I’m so fucking wet that I can feel myself coating his finger, coating his face, and he groans again, muttering something under his breath.

When he shoves a second finger inside me, my toes curl, air leaving my lungs in a rush.