Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(32)

I hear the sound of a bag zipping, and I know she’s really leaving. And she’s hurt. Not physically, but in the worst kind of way. I’d given her my word, and then like always, I’d put the club before everything else. Because the club is what’s most important in my life. But the truth is, she’s important to me too.

“Don’t leave,” I say, turning to face her. She stands tall and proud, her head lifted high. Her eyes are cold, lifeless, and narrowed at the corners. She looks right through me, like I’m not here demanding her to stay.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she offers, a sardonic smirk playing on her lips.

Anything.

“Move aside, or I’ll rip this whole f*cking house to shreds. It’s your choice.” Her voice is harsh. Her expression hard. Her words promising. And I don’t doubt her. But I haven’t wanted to do anything but kiss her since I first saw her moments ago. I thought I could deny her, but I can’t. And I’ll be damned if she tries to stop me. In this moment, no one could.

Closing the distance between us, I toss my gun on the bed then reach for her throat. When I tighten my hold, her eyes widen in shock, but it’s her parted lips that let me know she wants this just as much as I do. My mouth crashes to hers. Her body fights me, but her tongue submits, letting me suck on it and taste her. She kisses me back with passion, while her hands fist in my hair, pulling tight like she’s trying to pry my head away from hers.

But it only lasts a second. Then she’s pulling me to her. She can’t get enough of me. Her fingers claw at my neck—forcing my mouth to crash harder against hers. She tastes like f*cking sunshine.

“I missed you . . . ,” I say, not fully breaking the kiss. “So f*cking much . . .” She moans into me, and I know in this moment that everything we’ve been denying each other is finally over.

Pushing the duffel off her shoulder, my fingers curl around her perfect ass, lifting her around my waist effortlessly. Her legs circle my hips and I walk forward, pushing her into the wall and kissing her harder when she groans with pleasure at the roughness. I kiss her neck, sucking hard on the sweet, watermelon-scented flesh that I’ve missed.

Impatient, my fingers curl around the V at the collar of her shirt and rip the fabric open. Then I rip her pretty lace bra that’s also new to my eyes. Two perfect f*cking tits stare back at me, and I lift her higher so I can take the light brown peaks into my mouth. Loosening her legs from around me, I hear the sound of her jeans as they hit the floor, then her fingers are on the buttons of mine. I step back long enough to push them to my knees, grab a condom from the dresser next to us and keep my eyes on hers as I sheath my dick.

They’re burning with desire. With raw f*cking need to have me inside her. There’s no love or passion, just a primal craving that demands I f*ck her on the same level of insanity that she drives me to. Lifting her again, I drop my head and watch as my cock goes inside her—needing no guidance or direction. Out of pure instinct, I find her swollen, wet * and drive deep, burying everything inside her but my balls.

She feels like f*cking satin. She’s smooth, wet, warm, and I have to pause to keep from coming—and I haven’t even gotten started. I distract myself with her mouth—kissing her softly at first, then building it up until we’re both breathless. Her hips jerk. Her legs tighten. She pulls my hair so hard it hurts. She’s doing everything in her power to get me to f*ck her. And when I finally get my shit together, f*ck her is exactly what I do.

When she screams, I match it with a growl and slam her small body on top of me, over and over. I’m hurting her . . . but it’s the good hurt. The kind that has her hissing in pain and begging for more in the same breath. My fingers dig into her sweet ass that fits perfectly in my hands. Her fingers claw into my back, tearing deeper into my flesh with every pump of my hips.

We’re scarring each other.

Hurting each other.

Torturing each other.

And it’s never felt so f*cking good.

“I f*cking hate you,” she says through her teeth, moving her hips to meet me.

“Not as much as I hate you,” I growl, and like the f*cked-up creatures we are, our words are our undoing.

She screams as her * clenches around me. Her orgasm wracks through her body violently. I bury myself deep, stilling so she can feel the way my cock pulses as I come inside her. I don’t cover her in sweet kisses or tell her how awesome she was. Because she already knows. Instead, I bury my face in her neck, nipping at her skin with my teeth, then licking it with my tongue. She rubs her hands across the swollen scratches on my back. It’s as intimate as we get, and neither of us would have it any other way.

Slowly, her legs untangle from my waist. I hold her by her hips until she can stand on her own. But even then, I don’t want to let her go. Not just yet. I keep her pressed against the wall, sympathizing with my cock that softens the instant the cool air of the room hits it—no doubt in shock after leaving the hottest, sweetest * it’s ever been inside of.

“I’m still leaving,” she says, breathless and beautiful and impossibly f*cking infuriating.

“You can try.” I place my forehead against hers, trying to find the strength to take my hands off her hips.

“What if I do?” I hear the smile in her tone and can’t keep from smiling myself.

“Then you do.” I lean closer, biting her ear before whispering, “And I’ll just f*ck the urge out of you again.”