Sinful Hands (Chained Hearts Duet 3)

She still has semi-control.

And she isn’t planning on letting that go.

30

Chanel

Hands roam my body. Sinful hands that have taken lives. Hands that have given me pleasure, then taken it away.

Lips touch my skin. Lips that set butterflies off in my stomach. Lips that utter words so cruel that I wonder how I ever had those lips anywhere near me or my body.

“Mio per sempre.”

“Tell me what it means?” I ask, clutching his face in my hands. We’re on the bed, and he’s spent the last few minutes undressing and kissing as many parts of my body as possible.

Kisses as hot as fire.

Hands as cool as the night breeze.

Breaths tickle and linger in places, as if trying to pause a moment in time.

“It means ‘forever mine,’” he says simply, then kisses my belly. His tongue dips into my belly button and I squirm at the sensation before he drops lower.

“Is that what I am to you? Yours?” He raises his head and rests his chin on my belly as he lies between my naked legs.

“You won’t be anyone else’s.”

I reach down and touch his face, my fingers trailing through his hair and down his cheek. “We are toxic.”

Lucas leans into my touch. “I’m toxic, you are not. And…” he pauses, laying his head on my stomach, “… I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

“Lucas.”

“Hmm.”

“Why aren’t you inside of me already?”

He lifts his head and climbs back up my body, then leans down and kisses my collarbone, working his way around to my chin, and making sure he kisses every part of me. His hand comes up and his thumb slides over my lips before his finger slips into my mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and I do. His eyes darken as he watches the action before he pulls it out and puts it between us and rubs my clit. I feel his cock near my entrance. Lucas rubs, and rubs a little more, and soon my legs wrap around his waist, his mouth touching my skin, setting it on fire with his lingering kisses before he gently slides into me.

How did I not know sex could be this amazing?

How did I not know that there is pure, addictive pleasure in it?

I had sex because it was my job. And sometimes I would start to become aroused, but the feeling went as fast as it came. And I fucked because I was paid to, nothing more.

I don’t fuck Lucas for any of those reasons.

He is one of the first men I fucked for the pure pleasure of it and nothing more.

That’s a lie. There is more, but I’m not ready to deal with that ‘more’ word just yet.

I shouldn’t have to.

I don’t want to.

His hand comes up to my neck, and he applies pressure. I bite my lip as he starts moving in and out.

“If you stop…” I warn him.

A soft chuckle leaves his mouth. “I couldn’t even if I fucking wanted to.” I can hear the desperation in his voice, and a part of me wants him to kiss me, but the other part that I’m keeping to myself—the one I don’t want to let him have—is screaming at me to say no.

If I give him my all, he will break me.

Lucas is known to break women.

And most don’t come back alive.

I want to continue breathing, so I keep my lips to myself and don’t go down that path.

Mainly to protect myself.

Because that’s all I have left.

Myself.

He has everything else. My body, my touches, my attention.

But he will not get the kisses because those are mine to give.

Lucas keeps up a perfect rhythm, and he does it ever so slowly, like he has to savor me. He’s never rushed because he knows how to please. And please me he has always done.

“Mio per sempre.”

I grip and kiss his cheek. Then I run my fingers through his hair. He stops, and I almost want to scream, but he gets up on his knees and lifts my legs over his shoulders before he slides right back into me. Not before he leans over and grabs something—a knife.

That’s when I watch him fuck me. The way his muscles clench and move, his V arrowing down to his talented cock, the lines of tattoos covering every inch of his chest.

I want to discover what each and every one of those inked images means.

Why? A quiet voice asks me.

I grip my tits, and he smirks as he watches me pinch my nipples. He picks up the pace. Not fast enough to ‘slam bam thank you ma’am,’ but enough that I can feel myself on the edge. And he’s right there to push me over.

“Touch your clit,” he commands. I slide one of my hands from my breasts down to my clit, then I lean up and offer him my finger. He takes it and sucks before he realizes. Then he grips it and pauses while he’s inside of me.