Page 20 of Two Sides of Sin

“It’s not showing off if I’m just naturally gifted, June bug,” I said. I let the knife fly. Thud. Bullseye. Twice more, the steel biting into the wood with a finality that made the attendant sigh.

“Pick one,” the man said, gesturing to the wall. “Anything.”

She pointed to a massive, ridiculous stuffed elephant. As I hauled it over, she let out a genuine, bubbling laugh the first one I’d heard since the beach.

“Julian, it’s bigger than I am! How am I supposed to carry this?”

“I’ll carry it,” I said, the weight of the guilt lifting momentarily at the sound of her joy. “What now? Anything you want.”

Her gaze slid to the vintage photo booth tucked between a popcorn stand and the funhouse, a tiny, curtained box that promised a world without witnesses.

“In there,” she said, grabbing my bicep and dragging me toward the velvet curtains.

The second the fabric fell shut, the world vanished. The space was suffocating and small, forcing us chest to chest, hip to hip. The air in the booth was hot, smelling of the dust in the velvet and the overwhelming, intoxicating heat and scent of her skin.

“It’s a bit tight in here,” I whispered. My breath catching as her scent filled my lungs, a sensory overload that bypassed my brain and went straight to my cock.

“That’s the point,” she whispered back.

The machine whirred to life. Click. We made a silly face, a performance of normalcy. Click. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur that made my toes curl.

“June, don’t⁠—”

Before the third flash, she turned and pressed her lips to mine. I froze for a heartbeat, looking down at her. She looked so perfect in the harsh, flickering light of the booth, her eyes wide, pleading, and holding that ‘puppy dog’ look that bypassed every single one of my defences.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” I growled against her mouth.

The guilt was still there, but the lust was louder, a roaring tide that swept away the Ritual, the betrayal, and any logic. I pulled her hard against me, my hands finding her waist as she climbed onto my lap, straddling me in the cramped space. The elephant was long forgotten, trampled on the floor.

Click.

Our kiss turned feral. I lost control. My hand moved to the nape of her neck, my fingers tangling in the dark curls I’d spent months wanting to touch. I tilted her head back, exposing the perfect line of her throat. My other hand slid down, seeking the warmth of her body. As I gripped her waist and pulled her flush against me, the thin fabric of her dress offered no resistance. I could tell instantly she wasn’t wearing a bra.

The realisation sent a jolt of pure, staggering need through me.

I slipped my hand up under the hem of her dress, my palm meeting the smooth, silken heat of her stomach before moving higher. Her breasts were incredibly soft, filling my palms perfectly as she arched into my touch with a low, desperate sound. She was so responsive, so alive under my finger tips.

I found her peaks, lightly rolling and then pinching the sensitive points between my thumb and forefinger. The sensation made her let out a sharp gasp, followed by a low, shaky moan that she breathed directly into my mouth. The sound of her pleasure, trapped between us in that tiny, velvet-lined coffin, nearly broke my resolve.

“Tell me to stop,” I managed to choke out between frantic, wet kisses on her throat. My fingers were still busy exploring the softness of her, memorising the weight of her.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed, her hand fumbling with the belt of my pants, her touch as frantic as my own.

I was seconds away from letting her finish what we’d started, the world reduced to the friction of our bodies and the hypnotic, mocking flash of the camera.

Suddenly, the curtain jerked back.

“Oh! My god! I’m so sorry!” a woman shrieked, her eyes bulging.

June let out a sharp scream, diving her face into my chest and scrambling to pull her dress down. I reacted on instinct. I caught the curtain and yanked it shut with a violent tug that nearly pulled the rail down.

“Occupied!” I barked, my voice a terrifying snarl.

My heart was hammering, my skin still tingling and burning from the contact. We sat there for a long second in the sudden, ringing silence. Then, June started to giggle a quiet, hysterical sound against my shirt.

“We’re a mess,” she whispered through her laughter.

“A complete disaster,” I agreed. A raw, genuine laugh tore out of my own throat, even as I realised that the “normal” day I’d promised was officially out the window.