Page 39 of The Scent of Sin


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Can't breathe.

Can't think past the pressure on my spine, the way my ribs compress against the table, the sharp bite of pain in my still-healing hands where they're pinned beneath me.

"You done?" he asks.

I try to buck him off. Arch my back, twist my hips. Nothing. He's too heavy. Too strong. He doesn't budge.

"I said, are youdone?"

"Fuck—you—"

He leans down. Closer. His chest presses against my back. His thighs bracket mine. I can feel every hard line of him. His mouth near my ear.

And then he breathes in.

Deep.

Slow.

I feel his chest expand. Feel the exhale ghost across my neck, hot and shaky.

I feel the exact moment it hits him.

His entire body goes still. Tense. Every muscle locks. His grip on my neck tightens just slightly. His breathing stops.

"What the fuck," he breathes.

No.

No, no, no—

He breathes in again. Deeper. His nose presses against the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. His mouth is so close I can feel the heat of it against my skin. And this time, a sound escapes him. Low. Guttural. Almost pained.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily.

His eyes roll back.

I feel him getting hard.

Feel it press against my hip, thick and insistent and wrong, wrong, wrong—

Oh god.

"Zero—"

"What thefuckis that?" His voice is rough. Strained. Wrecked. "What the fuck do you smell like?"

I can feel his heart hammering against my back. Can feel the tremor in his hands. He's shaking. Or I'm shaking. Maybe we both are.

I turn my head away. Press my cheek harder into the felt. Close my eyes. Try to disappear.

But I'm trapped. Pinned beneath him. His body is a cage I can't escape. Heat radiates from him in waves.

He shifts. Presses closer. Grinds against me, just once, and the sound he makes is almost feral. I feel him—hard, insistent—against my hip.

The room is too hot. Too small. The air is thick with something I don't want to name.

"Answer me." His hand slides from my neck to my jaw, forcing my face toward him. His fingers dig into my cheeks hardenough to bruise. His thumb presses against my pulse point. "What are those pills, Max?"