Scandalous (Sinners of Saint 3)

“Ahh.” I closed my eyes, getting lost in his touch against my sweet spot.

He kicked my legs farther apart, making me open up as a result. He pounded into me, paying close attention to my clit now. My elbows were shaking. God, yes. It felt so much fuller, and intimate, and crazier than what I’d ever experienced.

“Shit, you’re tight. I’m gonna come.”

It felt oddly comforting to have him filling me from behind. Especially as he had one of his hands all over my pussy—filling me from both ends—and how he clutched my waist, squeezing it extra hard every time my legs quivered so bad I was about to fall down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Jesus,” I moaned, feeling a smile on my lips.

He yanked my hair, making me arch. My shoulders met his clothed torso and he bit at the tip of my ear. “I knew you’d beg. You’re so weak for me, Edie. So fucking gone.”

“Do it,” I hissed.

He came inside me, and I came on his hand…

The drive to the hospital was littered with silence and my moving around to try to soothe my sore butt. No more words were spoken. In fact, the only gesture he’d made before I poured out of his car was squeezing my thigh with a hand that still smelled very much like me.

Trent nodded to me in assurance, and I scrunched my nose—because that was my thing.

“We need to stop,” I said.

“So stop.” He shrugged.

“I will,” I lied, getting out of his car. I couldn’t miss his laughter. It rang in the air long before he drove off.

A week later.

“YEAH. PALM SPRINGS. I KNOW. A driver will be waiting for them downstairs.” I jammed my finger into my temple, rolling my eyes and pretending to shoot myself. Dean, sitting at the chair opposite to me, was chuckling, rolling a joint between his fingers. No fucking way. I was not smoking downstairs with him. Not on my office patio, either. I had too much shit to do.

I paused again, listening to the person on the other side, before responding.

“It’s a one-month program, and for all I care you can chain her to the fucking bed and let her piss and shit into a bowl. She’s not running away this time. This woman needs to get well.”

So that Edie will be happy, I didn’t add.

I hung up, taking a long breath and loosening my tie. Dean cocked his head, placing the joint above his ear. Dudebro move, then again, every single thing in the world had the potential to piss me off these days. I wanted to put the Jordan Van Der Zee shit on lockdown, because it was starting to become evident I couldn’t, for the life of me, stop seeing his daughter. And it was ironic, how I was trying to get her mom off drugs when Edie became my very own addiction.

“Luna started young. I don’t think my kids will touch drugs before ten,” Dean commented on my phone conversation.

“Hey, dickface, here, you dropped your sense of humor.” I groaned, scratching my cheek. “The rehab is for Lydia Van Der Zee. Since her husband is too busy to help her and I can’t really ask Rina to do it for me because that’d lead to questions,” I explained.

“Questions to which their answers are yes, I am fucking his daughter, why, I’m glad you asked, yes, we did it in the office, too, and of course, I want a bullet to my head. That’s why I did it in the first place.” He tapped his chin, like he was waiting for me to throw a fist in his smug face.

I got up and sauntered over to the bar by the window, grabbing two bottles of water for him and me. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood,” I noted coolly.

“I’m in the best mood. You finally have a girlfriend.”

“Incorrect. And even if it wasn’t, don’t repeat that outside these walls,” I shot quickly, chugging the majority of my drink.

“If you’re not her boyfriend, then why the fuck are you admitting her mother into a rehab facility? You taking a side job as Mother Theresa?”

Glancing at my watch, I asked myself whether today would be the day she’d finally show up in the fucking office and spare me the agony of walking these hallways without seeing her perky ass in another ill-fitting number she’d stolen from her mom. Even if I never looked at her when she was noticing, I did look. She was my fuel for the rest of the day. She was what kept me going.

“Mmm?” I hummed at Dean, still not committing to answering him. He leaned forward, stroking the J he plucked from behind his ear in long motions.

“What is she to you, man? Why are you helping her so much?”

“Because she needs help, and because her dad will never give it to her.”