Page 109 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
I’ve just been swapping one man for the other at night for the last several days, and it’s seemed to work okay. I try to watch when certain people are out of the house for work or when they’re in their own beds. We haven’t formalized this or talked it over in any way, but I can at least see how committed they are.
More than me, even. I say that because when I told Crown that I would run, I meant it. But them? They’ve committed to me so deeply that they’re willing to actively defy their own president. It’s sacrilegious; it’s impossible. It doesn’t happen in the life.
It just doesn’t.
And yet … we’re fallen angels among fallen angels. How does that even work? Do we rise again? Are we so sinful that we’ve come full circle and become holy?
“You should come see this,” he encourages, rising to his feet and holding out a hand for one of mine. I eye his proffered fingers with suspicion, but in the end, I’m a sucker for these men. I accept the help and rise to my feet, flushing the still-clean water in the toilet, and then pausing to brush my teeth.
Sin leans against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, watching me with an expression of true wonder, like he isn’t sure how we ended up where we are. Like it’s too good to be true. Sad, isn’t it? That we can romanticize what’s going on with us when so many other, more horrible things are happening in our orbit.
I finish brushing my teeth, pausing to swish some mouthwash as Sin rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Oh come on, Gidge. You don’t have to get your mouth that clean just to suck me off.”
I snatch a towel to wipe my face down, and then I throw it at him. He catches it with a cocky laugh, and then tosses it over his shoulder.
“Last time you asked me to suck your dick, you promised to fuck me,” I remind him, flicking the bathroom lights off as I follow him into the hall. It’s an old house, so there isn’t a light in this hallway. Needs a lamp or something. Anyway, it’s dark enough that when Sin turns back toward me, he looks menacing in the half-light. “And then you tried to renege. Why should I trust you now, huh?”
“I was trying to protect you, Gidge,” he says, his voice tinged with his signature melancholy. “I’m not trying anymore—not in that regard.”
“Trying to protect me by letting me suck you off?” I query back, and he sighs, grabbing the towel off his shoulder and using it to lasso around my waist. He snatches the other side and yanks me toward him, until our fronts bump together, and I’m finding it suddenly hard to breathe.
“By teaching you a lesson about the world,” he offers up, and I laugh. Because I can, because for the first time since I threw myself into this fucker’s arms on a cold, cemetery day, I’m actually allowed to do that. I’m allowed to hold him when I want to, put my arms around him when I want to … suck his dick when I want to.
“Was the lesson: true love always prevails?” I murmur, and he yanks even harder on the towel, ensuring there isn’t a single atom’s worth of space between us. I kiss and lick at the side of his neck, wondering if I shouldn’t leave a few good hickeys for the club whores or the other wives to take note of.
“Must’ve been,” he says, releasing the towel just enough so that I can reach between us, undoing his belt, and then teasing hungry fingertips against the button of his jeans. Sin catches my hands and then exhales sharply. “I really do have something to show you.”
“Really? You’re turning this down?” I whisper back, but he just shakes his head.
“Hell no. I’m just …” He takes my hands and brings them to his lips, his tongue like a garrote, slicing through my emotional wards as he licks my fingertips and captures my gaze with those ethereal, silver eyes of his. “Postponing it. Come with me.”
I groan as he keeps my hand in his and pulls me down the hall toward the front door.
We step outside and I frown as I squint into the orange sky. Yet another smoky, hazy day in Ashbury.
Sin ignores it, pounding down the steps and moving around the side of the house. He heads in the same direction that Beast went when he took off. Instead of moving into the backyard—or what functions as a backyard considering there’s no fence, no grass, and no plants currently—he takes me over to an outbuilding that sits behind and to the left of the house.
It’s a garage of some sort, clearly. The door is open and Sin strides right in, pausing beside a beat-up but still very pretty red and white Indian motorcycle.
