Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

I can feel the start of a tension headache. It’s not like my conversation with Jessica revealed any new information about my current project, but it was a good splash of reality reminding what I have in store. Tipping my head down, I rub at my temples as the elevator rises back to my floor. I should have just grabbed my things and left with Jessica.

The car eases to a stop. I listen to the doors slide open and drop my hands.

With my head still tipped down, I watch a pair of men’s shoes step into the elevator.

Not wanting to miss my exit, I raise my head, ready to excuse myself.

And I freeze.

My breath stalling in my chest.

My heart does a quick double beat.

Here, in this small elevator, over a thousand miles away from Vegas, I find myself standing a foot away from the Devil himself.

He doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t look shocked. He looks pissed.

“Vincent.” I whisper his name.

In one quick movement Vincent closes the gap between us. His hands come up to the sides of my face. He leans in, his pitch-black eyes inches away from mine. I had forgotten how dark his eyes were. I swore I’d memorized every detail about him, but – being this close again, feeling his heat again – is setting my body on fire.

“Sasha.” He growls my name.

He leans in at the same time I push up onto my toes. Our lips collide. His mouth is warm and soft and demanding. I grab onto the lapels of his suit jacket, vaguely aware that the elevator doors have shut, and it feels like we’re moving.

Vincent’s hands slide around to the back of my head. His fingers gripping my hair. The tug is enough to tilt my head. Taking instant advantage of the new angle, Vincent’s tongue slides against my bottom lip. I nip at him as he pulls my hair, causing me to groan.

He presses against me, bringing our bodies flush.

I’d missed him. Missed this body. Missed the way he makes me feel.

When Vincent breaks the kiss, I realize that the elevator has stopped, and the doors are sliding open again.

He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and pulls me out to follow him. The move has me flashing back to the image of us leaving the elevator in Vegas. His grip on my hand now, even more possessive than it was then.

I almost have to jog to keep up with his long strides, not sure where he’s taking me. The movers have been here. Everything is still in boxes, but I think we’re on the top floor. The executive floor.

Vincent steps through an open door, pulling me with. He stops suddenly, turning back to face me. With his free hand he reaches out to slam the office door shut.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“In a room with a lock.”

Vincent walks into me, using his body to press me against the door.

I hear the click as he locks the handle. Adrenaline surges through my body. I know what he wants. And I want it too.

I let go of Vincent’s hand so I can use both of mine to push his jacket off his shoulders. He lets me, but as soon as it hits the floor he crowds back into my space.

In a move I’ve only ever seen in movies, Vincent reaches down, grabs my hips, and lifts me. Pinning me against the door with his body between my legs. My thighs automatically wrap around his waist. My arms around his neck. My mouth fusing to his.

His hands are so large they nearly cover my entire ass as he grinds into me. Vincent’s mouth leaves mine, trailing open mouthed kisses down my throat. Reaching my collar bone, he scrapes his teeth across my skin. The sensation sending a shiver straight to my core.

Pulling us away from the door, Vincent supporting all of my weight, he walks us across the room. I drop my lips to that hollow spot at the base of his throat. And lick.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Vincent grinds the words out.

That name. The same silly pet name he used on me a month ago. I hate how much I love it. I sink my teeth into the side of his neck. This man turns me into an animal. When I’m near him I feel like I go wild with desire.

“Why’d you leave me? Why’d you run?” His questions rumble through my body.

I shake my head against him. “You knew I was leaving.”

A crack sounds throughout the room, accompanied by a sharp sting on my butt cheek.

I rear my head back.

He narrows his eyes at me, daring me to talk back and get spanked again. “You snuck out.”

He stops walking and lets go of his hold on me. I only drop a few inches before I find myself sitting on top of a desk.

He leans in close. “And you stole my shirt.”

His hands start on my bare knees, and slide up my thighs, pushing my dress up as he goes. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

When I don’t reply, he pinches my hip.

I startle and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me once more. Brief but hard.

Pulling away from the kiss, he presses on my chest until I’m laid out on the desk.

“I should bend you over this desk. Fuck you from behind. Pull your hair. Smack your ass until it’s red. Punish you for what you did.” His breathing gets heavier with each word he bites out.

Holy. Shit. The idea of getting punished has never turned me on before, but his filthy words have me soaked.

Vincent pulls a condom out of his wallet. Undoes his belt. Lowers his zipper. And releases his already hard cock. His pants still on, he steps between my spread thighs.

I was sore for days after the last time we were together. Yet the sight of him, long and hard and ready, has my mouth watering.

“I should do that.” He says. “But I want you like this. I want you watching me. Seeing what you missed.”

He grabs my hips and pulls me until my bottom half is hanging off the desk. I reach up and grip the edge of the desktop above my head. If he steps away from me now, I’ll slide off.

Vincent groans as he pushes the skirt of my dress up over my waist. “Fuck, baby. Look at you.”

He runs a finger over my seam, demonstrating how wet my panties are.

With one hand he pulls the fabric to the side, revealing my pussy. With his other hand he strokes the tip of his dick up and down against my entrance.

“Tell me you want this.” He demands.

I don’t hesitate. “I want it. I want you.”

Vincent pushes in one inch. “Say it again.”

I moan. “I want you. Please. Please!” I’m begging for him to fuck me.

He pushes in another inch. “Tell me you thought of me. Tell me you’ve thought of my cock inside you. Stretching this perfect pussy.”

His voice is strained. He’s trying to stay in charge. But I know he’s close to losing it.

I roll my hips up, trying to get him deeper.

Another smack sounds through the room. With my ass hanging off the desk he still has access to my bare skin.

“Tell me.” He growls.

“I’ve thought of you.” I pant. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Vincent, please.”

A change comes over his eyes. It’s small, but watching it happen was like watching a door shut. Like he’s closing himself off. I said exactly what he wanted, but somehow it must have been the wrong thing.

I wonder if I should apologize. I’m worried he’ll stop. That he’ll step away.

But then he pushes in another inch. And another. And then I’m taking all of him. He’s pumping his hips. And I can’t think anymore.

I can’t focus on his eyes. I can’t focus on anything except for the feeling of Vincent sliding in and out of me. I’ve dreamt of this so many times over the past month, that this moment doesn’t even feel real.

My hands leave the edge of the desk and instead reach blindly for Vincent. Still thrusting he leans forward, allowing me to grip the front of his shirt.

I can’t stop the sounds that roll out of my throat. He’s so big and it’s been so long. Too long.

I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his lips on me. Anywhere. But he won’t get close enough. He’s staying just far enough away.

“Touch yourself.”

My eyes meet his.

“Make yourself come, Sasha.”

His expression is full of lust and need and anger. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe him not touching me is my penance for leaving him.

I let go of his shirt, reaching down to rub right where I need pressure the most.

Vincent straightens back up so he can watch where we’re joined. Watch my fingers slip back and forth over my own body.

It all feels so good. So intense.

I want to please him. I want to follow his directions.

Watching him watch me, it only takes another moment before I start to lose control. My fingers pick up their pace, and so does Vincent.

It’s the sounds, the flesh on flesh, the heavy breathing, that cause me to shatter. My orgasm leaves me on a moan.

I have half a second to worry about how loud I’m being before Vincent comes on his own groan, drowning out any sound I was making. His body stills. His head tips back. His fingers dig into the side of my thighs.

We stay like this for a moment. Both lost in our bliss. Until Vincent releases his grip on me and steps away. Feeling him slide out of me is somehow lewder than the act of entering. But maybe it just feels that way since he’s not looking at me.

Not having him to support me, I hurry to grab onto the desk while dropping my legs to the ground. I still feel a bit unsteady, so I stay leaning against the desk as I watch Vincent.

He pulls the condom off, then pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to wrap around it. It’s a little gross, but I suppose leaving a used condom in some random office’s trash can would probably be a bad idea.

As he zips his pants up his phone rings.

He still hasn’t looked at me.

I watch him pick up his suit jacket off the floor, pull the phone out, accept the call, and bring it to his ear.

“Yes.”

He answers with one rough word.

Then with the phone pressed to his ear, his jacket draped over his arm, used condom in hand, he unlocks the door and walks out of the office.

Not once does he look at me. Not a glance. Not a nod. Not a word.

What. The. Fuck.

Seriously, what the fuck just happened?

I keep a hand on the desk as I stand up fully. Unwilling to acknowledge why I feel so shaken.

I brush a hand down the skirt of my dress. Then I do it again, swallowing down the emotions that are threatening to break free.

I’m embarrassed at how tight my throat feels. I’ve never felt more used in all my life. I know it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have just thrown myself at the man. I shouldn’t have believed that we had a real connection. I should have trusted my first instincts. That man is the goddamn Devil.