Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)

I didn’t know how she felt about everything she’d learned. I didn’t know if she was afraid, proud, or confused. But I did know she hadn’t run. And by staying by my side she made me fucking invincible.

Lassoing my arm around her, I pulled her from the office. “Come on. Time to attend a different kind of meeting.”

She trotted beside me in a rustle of skirts and smiles. “Are you doing this to avoid the huge cliffhanger you just left me with? Here I was thinking all you cared about was math and brotherhood—I couldn’t have been more wrong. I want to know more, Art. You can’t dump all that on a girl and then seduce her, you know.”

I smiled. “Watch me.”

She tried to act frustrated but she was just as hungry as I was. “If you won’t tell me more now, shouldn’t you at least mingle—like Joe told you to?”

Smiling at the odd democrat and not pausing to be roped into flowing conversation, I pushed Cleo toward the stairs. “I doubt they’ll miss us for ten minutes or so.”

“Just ten minutes?” she asked coyly.

I groaned under my breath as my cock grew harder with every step. “Stop looking at me like that.”

A sexy glitter entered her gaze. “Fine. I’ll let you hide your secrets about this revolution for a bit longer and play your game.” She swayed closer. “Now, just to clarify, you don’t want me looking at you how? Like I want to devour you? Like I want to pull your trousers down and kneel before you while I wrap my lips around your cock?” Batting her eyelashes, she laughed. “You mean that look?”

Shit, what was she trying to do to me? One minute she’d been the height of decorum and politeness and now she painted my mind with images of lips and tongues.

Yanking her to a halt, I pressed her against the wall. Her shoulders slammed against a family picture with Samson and his kids on donkeys in some mountain ranges. My fingers dug into her hip. “Yes, exactly like that.”

Her body scorched my fingers. Her perfume made me drunk.

With smoldering eyes, she gazed at my lips. “Wow, I had no idea you had such big plans.”

I captured her throat. “Oh, you have no fucking idea. I have huge plans when it comes to you.”

Bigger than governments. Larger than reforms.

Her body tensed and melted all at the same time. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

Nipping at her bottom lip, I pushed away and captured her hand again. “Time to go upstairs. Away from curious bystanders.”

She looked over my shoulder, no doubt catching some pervert’s gaze. “Good idea.”

I’d just admitted to wanting to topple the government. I’d just confessed to collaboration between bikers and senators. A fucking revolution. But all I could focus on was her. Everything else paled in comparison. It was work—something I’d been plotting forever. Cleo, on the other hand, was still so new. I had to reconnect—to make sure I hadn’t scared her with my crazy ideals.

Weaving the final distance toward the staircase, I let her go ahead of me. She climbed the shallow steps in her delicate, dangerous heels.

Every sway of her ass drove more blood to throb in my cock.

I could barely walk with needing her.

Halfway up the winding staircase, I spanked her through the puffiness of her dress. “You’re going too slow, Buttercup.”

Her hips wriggled, taunting me. “I’m going as fast as I can in these shoes.”

“Not fast enough.” Spanking her again, I grunted, “Get up there before I lose my self-control in front of these fucking people.”

“So bossy,” she breathed.

“Just wait till we get behind a locked door.”

The climb took forever and I didn’t let her stop when we finally crested the second floor. Wedging my hand against her lower back, we traversed the landing and entered a guest bedroom farther down the hall. It was a room I’d used once or twice when Samson and I would plot well into the night. My eyes would burn from reading for so many hours and I’d end up crashing here—having nothing to return home to but emptiness.

Cleo drifted inside, taking in the white rugs thrown over the dark brown carpet and the king-sized bed with hanging Morocco bedside lights from yet another one of Samson’s travels. For a man who worked as many hours as he did, he did a lot of globe-trotting.

I locked the door, and my cock hardened. Every inch of my body reacted to the close proximity of the woman I needed. Even though she was across the room, watching me with anticipation and lust, our connection bound us—a powerful magnetic pull that only strengthened the longer we were together.

I would never be free of her power—orbiting around her for the rest of my life perfectly content.

It’d been that way with us from the very beginning. Ever since I helped her stumble home from falling off her bike, we’d been exquisitely drawn together. First by childhood fascination, then by aching teenage infatuation, until it had evolved into what existed today. A ferocious captivation of lust and love where every inch of her belonged to me.

All the rest … it could fucking wait until I’d had my fill.

My legs itched to cross the distance and drag her into my arms. I needed to feel her.

Touch her.

Love her.

The exquisite anticipation of what would happen made me rock hard. Fuck, it hurt. Everything hurt.

My dick.

My head.

My soul.

My hands fisted as I stepped closer. “I want you, Cleo.”