Marry Screw Kill(20)

“Harlow, Harlow,” he murmurs in reverence, as if my profession of love has brought him to his knees.

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. His gentle kisses make me drift to a memory from a couple hours ago when Sin’s lips brushed over my knuckles. I felt everything then. My senses hummed. Now, I feel nothing.

I try to ease my hand from his, but his grip holds me in place. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say these words?” He places another kiss on my hand. “I forgive you for tonight.”

I do need his forgiveness, because his lips aren’t the ones I want on me. The ones I want belong to the man driving the car behind us. The fact that he’s James’ nephew makes me feel even more ashamed. What is wrong with me?

“You say you love me, but I need you to show me your love. Erase what I saw.” He releases my hand and I can guess what he wants: sex. It’s how he communicates.

“Unzip your dress and remove your bra,” he instructs, his voice rough.

I don’t want to upset him more, so I work myself out of my dress and bra. The air conditioning blows across my bare breasts and my nipples harden. I’m tempted to cover them with my hands, but he wouldn’t approve, so they stay at my sides.

Eyeing my exposed body, he licks his lips, pleased with what he sees. He reaches over to touch the side of my breast, cupping it with his hand. His thumb finds my nipple and strokes over it, pinching it hard. I inhale a sharp breath at the assaulting sensation.

“You’re utter perfection. Feel how hard you make me.” His fingers leave my breast and grip my hand. Placing my hand over his bulging erection and curling my fingers around him, I close my eyes.

“Now, unzip my pants and put me in your hot mouth.”

I prepare him as he requested. Having performed this act countless times, my mind goes blank and I go through the motions of pleasuring him, using my hands, tongue, and mouth like he has taught me.

“Come on, Harlow. Suck, baby. Suck.” I continue to work him up and down with an open throat.

He threads his fingers through my hair and grips the strands like he’s holding a rope. All my movements belong to his command. Up and down. The pace quickens. The depth goes beyond my comfort zone and I gag, over and over again.

“Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.” His screams join the rhythmic music as he releases into my mouth, freeing my hair from his vise grip. I have survived.

He breathes hard as I sit up and brush the tangled hair from my face. I must look a mess. A quick glance out the front window shows me we’ve arrived. Seeing the gated entrance, I realize I have mere seconds to redress. I slip my arms through my dress and zip it up as James stops the car in front of our house.

I rush to exit the car, wanting to be inside before Sin gets out of his, but James grabs onto my shoulder as I reach for the door.

“Wait for me inside the foyer. I need to talk with Sinclair first,” he demands, and I don’t argue.

I open the door and exit, hoping my appearance doesn’t give away what just transpired between James and I. I take off my heels in the warm May night and dutifully head toward the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sin at the rear of James’ car. Feeling his eyes on me, I cringe. I don’t want him to see me like this—all disheveled and … sexed up. I try not to look his way, but it’s no use. We lock eyes for a long second and I shrink at his expression. Sympathy. He pities me. Dammit, he knows. I break his gaze and walk quickly toward the house.

Digging the keys out of my purse, I unlock the door, walk inside, and lean against it, waiting as requested. As I close my eyes, I remember the look in Sin’s eyes. My stomach begins to churn and all I want to do is wash the bitterness from my mouth.

The stairs are only a few feet away and I’m tempted to run and escape to our bedroom, but before I can get away, James enters the house. I stand up to face him and see a devilish smile on his lips. I recognize his smile and what it means: there’s more sex to come.

“Go upstairs to our bedroom,” James whispers in my ear, twirling a strand of my blond hair between his fingers. A chill runs down my back as his warm breath fans across my skin. “We need to talk, among other things.”

What does he mean by “other things”? I silently pray I’ve read his smile and words wrong and he doesn’t want more sex. Surely what I did for him in the car is enough for one night—not to mention all the sex he wanted this morning. He’s never pushed me like this.

Before I turn to head up the stairs, I peek through the open front door and see Sin approaching the steps, his eyes downcast, pulling his suitcase behind him. The need to flee fills me, knowing I can’t face him right now.

“Why are you still standing here?” James swats me on the behind. “Get upstairs.”

“Yes, James,” I whisper, and spin on unsteady feet. I try to run up the stairs, but I definitely drank too much vodka. I grasp the handrail tightly to keep my balance.

As I close our bedroom door, I hear James’ voice booming from the foyer. I want to hear what he’s saying, but the bitter taste lingering in my mouth makes me dash to the master bath. I place my mouth under the running water and rinse away the sourness, but it’s not enough. Instead, I move to the toilet as my stomach revolts and I expel my dinner.

I collapse onto the cold tile floor and a dark feeling of hopelessness tries to overtake me. It reminds me of the night my mother died. Too weak to fight, I surrender and the tears win.