Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

One hour and another glass of wine later, I can solemnly swear I have not been bored. In fact, I’m completely taken by Vincent. He’s so much more than just a lickable face. He’s smart. Like genius level smart. And clever. Not sure he’s funny exactly, he’s too guarded for that, but my oh my he’s a fun time. And he’s even closer. Closer than he was when he first sat down.

The volume of the crowd around us has increased, and instead of talking louder, we’ve gravitated towards each other. At one point, Vincent reached over and single-handedly pulled my stool closer to his. The arm strength he demonstrated had me biting my lip. We were still facing each other so he had to spread his legs in order to accommodate my knees. And now with one arm on the bar and one stretched to the backrest of my chair, he has me trapped. I’m surrounded by his heat. His scent. His overwhelming presence. And I’d willingly drown in it.

I’m blaming my next words on that. On the fact that he’s muddied my senses and made me nearly suicidal with lust.

“Vincent…” I pause, then swallow down my nerves. “Would you like to come up to my room?”

I swear his impossibly black eyes darken.

Instead of answering, he stands. He doesn’t push his stool back. He doesn’t turn. He just stands. He’s tall. Taller than I remember. His legs are still straddling mine, now with more contact than before. He places a hand on the back of my arm, pulling me up to join him.

On my feet, I catalog the fact that the top of my head comes up to about his shoulder. With my five-foot five frame, I’d put him well over six feet. But instead of feeling frightened, I feel safe. I know I shouldn’t. I don’t really know him. I definitely shouldn’t have invited him to my room. I should walk away. But I won’t. I’m sick of playing it safe. I’m sick of nights alone. I’m sick of boring.

Bolstered, I tip my head back to look Vincent in the eye. He leans in and I think he’s about to kiss me. My breath catches and my lips part. But he stops short, reaching for something behind me.

“Can’t forget your purse.” Vincent says, holding out the offending item.

Fighting a blush, I take it. “Thank you.”

“Come.”

Again, with the one-word commands. His tone is demanding but not demeaning. He’s either a very direct man or one who’s used to getting his way. Probably both. But I don’t mind. Come is precisely what I plan on doing. And because I don’t want to overthink this, I’ll willingly take his commands all night.

Vincent grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me through the crowd.

I know we’re on our way to have sex, but there’s something about the way he’s holding my hand that feels so intimate. So familiar.

I mentally chide myself. This might be my first real one-night stand, but I’m no blushing virgin. I can’t go into this overthinking every detail. I need to go into tonight with one thing on my mind. And one thing only. Pleasure.

After passing through the entrance of the bar, we end up in the main lobby of the large hotel. It’s actually more than a hotel, basically an event center, but thinking about this building would mean thinking about work. And work is not important. Not tonight.

Vincent turns right and it takes me a few steps before I realize that the elevators for my floor are the other direction.

I tug on his arm. “Um, we’re going the wrong way.”

Vincent glances down at me but keeps walking. “My room is this way. Hope you don’t mind.” His tone is sincere, but he doesn’t slow his steps.

I feel like I should argue, but really what difference does it make? It’s a hotel room. Not a dungeon. Not a cabin in the woods. And since I wasn’t planning to hook up with a stranger, I didn’t bring a single condom with me. Hell, I don’t think I even have any in my apartment. A guy like Vincent, he probably has one on him, but at the very least he’d have one in his room.

I comfort myself by thinking that this way, when we’re done, I can leave and go back to my own room. Hopefully, I’ll have time to catch a few hours of sleep.

Pleasure. I remind myself. I’m 30 not 80. I can survive a night of little sleep, especially if the price is an orgasm. Or better yet, orgasms. Oh, pretty please let there be multiple.  

Vincent leads us around a corner to a pair of elevators I hadn’t noticed before, swiping a card to open the doors. Stepping inside he swipes his card again and the car starts to rise. No buttons pressed. Curious.

The ride up is swift and silent. The heat radiating from our palms has crawled up my arm and infused my entire body with awareness.

When the elevator doors open, we step out together.

This must be an expensive floor to stay on since I can only see a handful of doors. Vincent halts us to unlock his door and my brain’s so focused on the promise of sex, that I nearly miss the man standing against the wall a few feet down the hallway. The man nods a greeting to Vincent but doesn’t look at me. His clothing and demeanor make me think he must be part of the security team I saw downstairs. Strange that he’s hanging out up here, but if these are high-roller rooms then I guess it would make sense.

The second I step into the room, correction rooms, I know this is a world above where I’m staying. Vincent must be doing well for himself because this is clearly a pricey suite. And if the view out of the floor to ceiling windows is any hint, I’d say we’re on the top floor.

I only realize that my steps have slowed when my arm is tugged forward. Vincent’s still holding my hand. And we’re heading straight for the bedroom.

My heart rate picks up. This is it. This man is mine for the night. And I’m going to be his. I have no idea why this intimidating, sexy creature is interested in me, but I don’t care. I’m done second guessing myself.

The bedroom is just as grand as the rest of the space. The king-sized bed is centered in the room, looking out over the city. There’s an open bathroom door emitting the only light into the room, aside from the glow through the window.

“Sasha.”

My name, but still a command.

I turn to look up at Vincent just as he pulls me into his body. Our chests crash together and his free hand slides into my hair. His grip is immediate, and firm, and I groan against the pull. He tilts my head back and I shut my eyes, waiting for his lips to meet mine.

But they don’t.

I feel his lips against the shell of my ear. “Sasha.”

Still just my name, but no longer a demand. This time it’s a plea.

I arch into his grip. Pressing my breasts against his firm chest. He’s still holding my hand, almost painfully in his tightening grip. With my other hand, I reach up and touch his side. Even with his desire obvious, I feel unsure on just how to act, so my touch is tentative. Fingers pressing just hard enough to feel his firm body beneath the cotton.

Vincent growls, sinking his teeth into my neck. Not enough to hurt, not quite. But enough to claim. His act of ownership fans my spark of heat, igniting it into a confident flame. My fingers curl, transforming my soft touch into nails scraping through fabric.

Almost frantically, I tug his shirt free from his pants. And that’s all it takes. When my hands meet the bare skin of his stomach, he snaps.

Vincent uses his body to walk me backwards until I hit the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t stop his movement, crowding me until I fall back.

Switching his grip on my fingers he lets go of my hand for the first time since leaving the bar. The freedom is short lived. Vincent grabs my wrist, raising my hand over my head. Snagging my other wrist, he yanks it up to join the first as he climbs over me, straddling my waist.

I’m at his mercy, with my hands stretched over my head and my legs hanging off the bed.

In a move that speaks to sheer strength, using just his arms and core muscles, Vincent drags me up the bed until I’m laid out fully beneath him.

My squeak of surprise turns into a moan when one of his large hands closes over my breast. We haven’t even kissed yet. I don’t know if it’s some sort of Pretty Woman shit, or if he’s working up to it. But whatever it is, it’s working. I’m so goddamn turned on I might come just from the sight of him over me.

I want to touch him. Feel him. Lick him. But my hands are still being held down by one of his, immobilizing me.

The pressure on my chest disappears. I almost whine at the loss but his hand goes straight for the button on my pants. Flicking it open. His skilled fingers have my zipper down in a heartbeat. With one hand he’s only able to pull my pants partway down my hips. He won’t be able to get them off me without getting off the bed himself, but that doesn’t deter him. Still holding me down, still looming over me, Vincent’s hand slides down the front of my panties. I have a fleeting moment to be thankful that I shaved and put on a nice pair of underwear today. The thought disappears when his fingers find my core. I’m so wet. I’d be embarrassed, but when his fingers slip across my clit, I lose all ability to think. The contact has me clenching and moaning and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Fucking hell,” Vincent groans, his grip on my wrists tightening. “Look at me.”

My eyes pop open at his command. He’s only inches away. Watching me, my face, my expressions, so intently. His fingers continue to rub circles around my needy bundle of nerves. Every few passes he dips one inside of me. Never more than an inch. Just enough to tease. To make his fingers slick.

It’s torture. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Please.” I beg.

His eyes never leave my face. His fingers become more deliberate. The pressure firmer.

“Come, Sasha.”

His demand is the last straw. The orgasm hits me so suddenly, and so strongly, that I gasp. Or curse. I’m not sure. His fingers don’t let up, but they slow, finally stopping when my body stops shuddering. I didn’t think I could come on command. But I was wrong.

So. Fucking. Wrong.

Vincent’s weight shifts above me. My eyes fell closed again at some point when I was lost in bliss. Opening them, I watch Vincent slide off the bed, bringing my pants and underwear with him. I don’t need the command this time. I tug off my top and release my bra. It’s not a sexy show of stripping. It’s expedient. Nudity is the endgame and I’m nothing if not goal orientated.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he watches me. Even though I just had the best orgasm I’ve had in, well, a long time, I’m ready for another one. I’m ready to feel him inside me. Laying back, I prop myself up on my elbows. No point in trying to hide myself now. He knows what he’s getting. It’s too late to be shy about a little bit of belly.

Vincent’s eyes trail a line down my body, savoring every last inch of exposed skin. Clearly liking what he sees. Watching his face as he takes me in is fascinating. And intoxicating.

Feeling brave, I issue my own command. “Come here.”

His eyes rise to meet mine, as a cocky grin forms on his lips.

I watch in rapt attention as his fingers undo each button on his shirt, steadily parting the fabric. His clothing did nothing to hide his size, but now I’m able to get a glimpse of the man beneath. I can tell that he’s older than me, and even with his handsome face, I was prepared for just an okay body. But Vincent is far from okay. He’s built. Not airbrushed and hairless. But firm and thick and all man.

When he pushes his pants off, I see a flash of boxer briefs. But then he slides those down too, revealing himself to me. Standing at the foot of the bed, Vincent is entirely naked. And very, very hard. Drinking in the sight of him, I want to pat myself on the back for snagging such a wonderful man for the night. Along with a drool-worthy body, he has a beautiful cock. That’s not something I’ve ever thought before, but it’s true. He’s large in every, wonderful, sense. My pussy nearly hurts just looking at it, but I’ve always loved a challenge.

I let my legs drop open.

Vincent’s smirk slips when he grabs the base of his dick and squeezes. In his other hand, he’s holding a small shiny package. I don’t know where it came from, but I’m glad my assumption that he’d have a condom was correct.

Eyeing his display, I decide I want a taste.

I shift to sit up, but Vincent shakes his head. “Stay right there.”

He tears open the condom.

“Lay back.”

I do.

“Spread your legs wider.”

I obey.

“Good girl.” His praise sends a shiver across my skin.

I’m panting with need as Vincent crawls over me, using his knees to push my thighs even further apart.

Finally, he lowers himself. Mouth hovering over mine. Cock rubbing against my entrance. Close. So close to where I want him. To where I need him. My legs go around his waist, my arms around his shoulders.

Vincent slides his nose against mine, in a gesture that’s unexpectedly tender. “Relax, sweetheart.”

I exhale and let my muscles loosen.

In one sudden move, Vincent’s lips crush against mine at the same time he pushes his cock inside me. All the way to the hilt. In one hard thrust. The feeling of him filling me, combined with the emotional wave of our first kiss, is too much. The sensation is too overwhelming. I cry out in shock and pain and pleasure.

He pulls out, presses in, and just like that, I’m coming. Again.

I’m caged in. Vincent’s encasing me. One hand holding the back of my head, his mouth plundering mine, his other hand squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple. My body doesn’t stop convulsing. My pussy is throbbing with each thrust, matching Vincent. My mind’s so blurry I can’t form words, and I think I have tears in my eyes.

“Fuck. Sasha. Fuck.” Vincent buries his face in my hair. “You feel so good.”

I’m lost in him. In this moment. In the experience. Sense of time evades me, and I feel myself hanging on for dear life. I don’t want it to ever end, but I’m afraid I won’t survive another minute.

His thrusts are getting slower. Harder. His movements jerky.

Vincent groans against my neck. “Goddamn, you feel so fucking good.”

He slams into me hard. Once, twice, then I feel his thumb on my clit. My body can’t take it. I think I’ve been suffering from one long never-ending orgasm this whole time, but that doesn’t stop my body from starting all over. I shatter. Moaning loudly. Clawing at Vincent’s shoulders. Arching against his hard body.

“That’s it, baby.” One more thrust and Vincent stills. His body going tight. His groan of release filling my head.

Vincent’s weight collapses onto me, pressing me into the mattress. 

A moment before sleep pulls me under, I think to myself that this wouldn’t be a bad way to die.