Page 94 of Sin

He moves with ruthless precision, watching my face while his wife’s call goes unanswered inches away. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a confession. Every sound I make feels like another sin added to the pile.

I come like that.

On my kitchen counter.

With his hand between my thighs.

With Jenna calling.

With Sin watching me like I am the only thing he has ever wanted badly enough to ruin himself for.

Before I can breathe, he pulls me off the counter and turns me, pressing my hands flat to the cool surface.

“Tell me no,” he says behind me.

His voice is ragged. I look over my shoulder. The phone has finally gone silent, and my own reflection looks back at me from the kitchen window.

“No,” I whisper.

His hand tightens on my hip. “Laurel.”

“I’m not telling you no.”

That is all it takes. He enters me from behind with one slow, devastating thrust that knocks the breath from my lungs. The pace isn’t gentle. It isn’t cruel either.

It is desperate.

It is a man losing an argument with himself and taking me with him. His body covers mine, chest to my back, one arm around my waist, the other hand braced beside mine on the counter.

My name leaves his mouth over and over.

Laurel.

Laurel.

Laurel.

Like he is trying to make my name louder than hers.

Like he can replace guilt with want if he says it enough.

I reach back and grab his hair, needing something to hold onto. He groans against my neck.

“Again,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

His hand slides lower, finding the place that proves him right.

“Give it to me,” he whispers.

And because I am ruined, because I am weak, because I have fallen so far into Sin I can no longer see the edge, I do. I come again, shaking beneath him, his arm the only thing keeping me upright. He follows a moment later, burying his face in my shoulder, his release hitting him with a broken sound that feels too much like pain.

Afterward, we stay like that. Still connected.