It’s all a massive fucking tease and I’m practically feral by the time he grips his weeping cock in his hand and slaps it against my clit, causing my to jolt and curse him out.
“Fucking hell, Dorian. Get your dick inside me.”
He groans, kissing me soundly as he thrusts into me without any further preamble, filling me up completely. My breath hitches at the stretch and his eyes lock with mine and he freezes.
“Sin,” he moans. “Fuck, you feel so good. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock.”
I cup his jaw, dragging his face closer and staring into his gorgeous eyes as he pulls out and pumps into me again.
He’s right. His cock is the perfect size and shape to hit that spot deep inside me, like he was made for fucking me. He eases out and thrusts in slowly, like he’s going to take his time with this and even my legs wrapped around his ass won’t encourage him to go any faster.
It hits me then. No one else will ever have this experience, to share the same intimacy where I get to see the look in Dorian’s eyes as he slowly falls apart.
It’s mine and mine alone.
Chapter 36
Iri
Idon’t miss the slight shift in Sin’s expression when I excuse myself from our makeshift party on the rooftop. Just like I didn’t miss the way the mood changed, from fully PG fun and games to something with a distinctly sensual undertone as the evening progressed.
While I’d love nothing more than to have taken that next step with Sin, to take her just the way I’ve been imagining whenever my mind wanders, I knew I couldn’t stick around.
Not when there’s something I have to deal with first.
Sin’s words from earlier repeat in a loop in my head.
She doesn’t want secrets between us. Hates them, in fact.
Weeks of being fed tidbits of information about her, and I feel like this is a pretty major part of Sin’s personality. Despite living in hiding for years, she clearly hated it. Hated the lies and the experience of never being able to show her true self.
I’ll bet living in a cult was no picnic either, especially if she was opposed to all the shit Orlog was involved in.
She doesn’t like underhanded dealings or people keeping things from her. And in the past, I’ve been guilty of both.
And while I told her the ways I’ve been trying to lure out Cedar Orlog over the past few weeks, I didn’t fill her in on everything. There are still a bunch of moving cogs, things I set in motion weeks back and haven’t heard about in far too long.
I’m done with keeping this shit to myself. Sin didn't throw me out the plane window when I told her about my failed catfishing attempts, so maybe she won’t flip her lid when she finds out I went one step further.
Not only did I hire the same tracker who helped me pin down her location to Willow Ridge to trace Cedar Orlog’s most recent location. I also employed Elara—Sin’s friend—to help him out.
Tricky thing is, I haven’t heard from either of them in a couple of days. Which could mean nothing, since they’ve been coming up empty so far on tracking Orlog down. But I’ve got another gut feeling that says that’s not the case.
I dial Josse, my tracker contact, as soon as the suite door clicks shut behind me. The line rings five or six times before he finally picks up and he sounds less than happy to hear from me.
“Boss.” He sounds out of breath and there’s a faint echo to his words, like he’s just stepped out of a tunnel or he’s in the bathroom.
I sure hope it’s the first one.
“Josse, what’s the latest? You haven’t given an update since last week.”
“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.” There’s the sound of faint rustling in the background. “We finally tracked the slippery sonofabitch down and then he immediately went on the move. We’ve been trailing him ever since, but he’s barely stopped for more than a couple of hours at a time.”
“Are you and Elara together?”
“Sure are, boss. She’s a live one, I’ll tell you.”
Don’t I fucking know it. Ever since she first got my cell number, she’s sent me no less than five texts and voicemails per day. Some are random musings and song ideas, but most are monologues on her dogs.
