Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) (24 page)

“Where've you been? I got off early and thought I'd cook us a gourmet meal. Come'n taste this.”

She waved the spoon. “Oh cripes. I forgot to ask if you like duck. Do you?”

What the fuck?

Trying to contain his surprise, he answered, his tone even, controlled, “I like everything, including duck.”

Linc shut the dead bolt home and twisted the other two locks.

Does she always leave the damned door open?

“Come taste this. I think it needs a bit more orange.”

He strode forward, studying her face.

No bloodshot corneas.

No smeared makeup.

No reddened nose.

Linc covered her hand with his, brought the spoon to his lips, and sucked the end. Sticky. A perfect tart-sweet sting remained on his tongue, along with a burnt marmalade flavor. This close, their eyes five-or-so inches apart, he saw no evidence of any emotion other than a forced exuberance. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” she replied, blinking rapidly and twisting to the stove. “And yours?”

Why wouldn't she tell him? There was no way in hell she didn't know. She was in publishing, for fuck’s sake.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Linc mustered control of his mouth. “I had to make an emergency trip to Long Island. Sorry I wasn't here when you got home.”

He kissed her nape, toyed with the wisps escaping from the black claw that held her hair up, and tickled her ear with his tongue.

“To your family?” She sighed and arched her neck.

“Mmm, you taste good. No, to Satan's place. Something came up with the Italian shipping line.”

“Something serious?”

“Maybe. We don't have enough information as yet.”

“Are you going to have to leave town?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“I made a list of areas halfway between Manhattan and Long Island, but since I don't know where your family lives, they could be at the far end of the island. Maybe you should make a list too. I can always look for a place if you have to leave.”

“Woman, I'll move wherever you want. I'd prefer you not to have a long commute. I can work remotely. I don't need to be in any particular location.”

“I figured you'd want to be able to visit your family often.”

“I'd like
us
to visit the family often.”

She went stiffer than a plank of wood.

“My mom's gonna love you to death.” Linc nuzzled her neck, and some of her tension ebbed. He sniffed her nape, lavender and oranges, and the sensual aroma distracted him for a couple of seconds.

“So are all my brothers and sisters. Dad's going to read me the riot act for keeping you a secret, and he'll have the talk with me about honoring a woman and treating her like a cloud because all it takes for a cloud to vanish from the sky is a slight puff.”

“My day was awful,” she whispered. “Just awful. Oh, Linc, you won't believe what happened.” The spoon clattered to the tiles, bouncing and penning an orange streak, until it crashed and stilled on the baseboard.

She buried her face in his jacket and coiled her arms around his neck.

“Juanita acc…accused…” Sob.

“Accused me of leaking the sex thing.” Hiccupped sob.

Hands dropping and fisting, she hammered his chest. “She said I was jealous because she stole Kenny the rat.”

Her head lifted. She grabbed his jacket. “As if I give a shit about him, that asshole. As if he could hold a fucking candle to you.”

Such language, Destiny Driven. I love you. I love you for reacting this way.

“That's my woman,” he crooned. “Don't let that bitch and the scumbag win. I have Satan and Lucifer working on the dirt in their pasts. You don't worry for a single second. Got that?”

A supersize grin curved her mouth.

“I think I just discovered the positive side to your bossy overprotectiveness. Seriously, though, I have to clear my name somehow.” She swallowed a couple of times and blinked. “Jess suggested I take a few days off, but I told her I didn't need any time off.”

“I could ride in with you. Meet you for lunch.”

“No. I'm a big girl. I can handle this.” She unzipped his jacket, spread the lapels, and pushed at the shoulders. He cooperated, shrugging the sleeves off and letting the garment plop to the floor.

“I thought about the situation all day. And I have to face facts. If Juanita does file suit against me, my editing career is toast. No one will touch me, not New York, certainly not the top e-pubs. I may be able to find a job at some desperate bottom-of-the-pile e-start-up. I will
not
stoop to trying to turn a string of sex scenes into a real story.”

Tell him about the book.

Why did that have to be her first thought upon awakening from their pre-dinner lovemaking?

A finger's width of a streetlight peeked through the edges of Destiny's blackout drapes, casting shimmers of gold on the tips of the darker follicles shadowing Linc's jaw. She resisted the temptation to trace the ridge and lick the slight dip in his chin. Her gaze trailed his ribs as he inhaled and exhaled, loving the heat his body generated, the way he followed her if she moved in her sleep, nuzzling, tucking her rear against his groin.

First I'll submit the book to Jess. See what she thinks. Then I'll surprise him. Maybe cook him a romantic dinner.

“Why so solemn?”

She flinched, clapped a hand on the valley between her breasts, and tilted her chin to meet eyes more emerald than honey. “Cripes. I thought you were asleep.”

“I'm a light sleeper.” His voice had a sexy, just-awakened huskiness.

Destiny's toes curled. She loved the way he smelled of soap and a hint of a woodsy aftershave.

He turned on his side and slid down on the mattress so they were face to face, noses bumping. The pillow's goose feathers billowed, and a puff of air tickled her lips.

“I felt the change in your breathing.” He finger-outlined her mouth.

She smelled orange and wine on his skin and a blush warmed her face and neck. For a second, his glance dipped, and returned to fasten with hers. “What's made you blue, Destiny Driven?”

I'm wondering if Jess will like my book. I'm wondering if you'll like my book. I'm wondering if I'll lose my job. I'm wondering if we have a future. I can't think straight when you're all caring and tender. I definitely can't think straight when your penis twitches on my stomach and leaves sticky splotches.

“Did you know your bottom lip reflects your thoughts?” His thumb grazed the seam of her mouth. “Now, for instance, you're having some sort of inner debate. Your lips start to curl at the corners, then flatten. Then this bottom one pouts the tiniest bit.” His palm cradled her face, “What's worrying you, Destiny Driven?”

“Work,” she replied and shrugged. “I should've called a lawyer yesterday, but I was soooo mad. I chopped that duck in half in one blow.”

He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

She poked him in the navel. “I don't see what's so funny.”

“I wished I'd seen that blow. Remind me never to get in the way of you and a knife.”

“I imagined it was Juanita's scrawny neck.” Destiny gave him a light smack on the chest. “Too bad the duck overcooked.”

“Overcooked? Charcoaled is a more apt description.” He blocked her attempted chop by capturing her hands. “Uncle, uncle. It was entirely my fault. If I hadn't distracted you—”

“Distracted?” She squealed. “A commercial is distracting. An errant comma is distracting. That's distracting.” Her gaze dropped to his penis.

“That's distracting. Covering my…my vagina.” Her cheeks fired, and she sputtered to a stop.

“Vagina? Vagina? We gotta do something about your vocabulary.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Orange-flavored pussy became my favorite dish two hours ago. And there's no more referring to my dick as a penis.”

“It is,” she said, her tone insistent.

“This”—he rested her hand on his arousal—“is a manly dick, not a girlie penis. And this”—he slipped his hand between her legs—“is my personal pussy paradise. Mmm, wet already. I'm dreaming of dessert.” He licked the seam of her mouth.

“No way, Linc Chapman. I have plans for the rest of the night. Plans for the bad-boy SEAL, Sinner. When the pizza gets here, we're putting in a DVD.”

He flashed her a wicked grin. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Sinner. Turns me on, woman. Why’d you want to watch a DVD? I doubt any movie's gonna hold my attention tonight. I'm thinking of strategic places for olives and pepperoni.”

“Not even
Deep Throat
? Or
The Devil in Miss Jones
? And acting out a scene I pick? One where you wrap your hands around the headboard slats and let
me
taste
you
.” She arched a brow. “
Everywhere.
”

The door intercom buzzed. Destiny cupped a hand over her mouth, but a few giggles escaped.

A wave of expressions crisscrossed his face. He stared at her mouth, then his dick, then let out a long, tortured groan. “You're going to kill me, woman. And hell if I'm not going to enjoy every single minute.”

“Pizza,” she reminded him.

“I'll get it. The porn's—”

“On your side of the closet,” she quipped. “I noticed you'd unpacked when I got home. I'll get it.” Reaching to the other side of the bed, she snatched the T-shirt he'd taken off earlier.

“Uh-uh. If I'm going to be tortured, I fully intend to enjoy the view. Don't even think about putting that on.”

The minute he left the room, Destiny snagged the outrageous lingerie—as if wisps of fabric could actually be termed clothes—she'd hidden in a drawer. When Lincoln hollered from the kitchen, she jumped.

“Wine or Coke?”

“Wine,” she answered, figuring liquid courage might come in handy.

She took up a pose on the bed, cheek propped on a palm, one hand draped over a hip. The dresser mirror reflected her wearing a feather boa and a winking stick-on fake ruby in her navel. Red lipstick completed the outfit, and she'd painted her toenails and fingernails scarlet earlier.

Lincoln's jaw dropped, and he bumped into the doorframe when he caught sight of her.

His brows did a wild jiggle. He swallowed a couple of times, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Fuck. I'm a goner.”

“Put the pizza here, big boy.” She patted the bed. “
I'm
feeding
you
tonight.”

Destiny arranged him on the bed against the headboard, hands cradling his neck. Then she set the pizza box on the left and climbed onto his lap, sitting so her pussy slicked his dick.

She flipped the lid open and sniffed, savoring the intermingled aromas of green peppers, sausage, pepperoni, and jalapeños, tore off a slice, and tightened her legs around his penis.

“Why dick?” she asked. “Why not cock or shaft?”

“I'm not hungry anymore,” he griped. “You expect me to carry on a conversation?”

She teased the seam of his mouth with a pizza slice. “Open. You'll need your strength to keep up with me, Mr. Chapman. So why dick?”

Chewing furiously, jaw working, he frowned and then swallowed. “Dunno, all the guys in the unit called it a dick. Shaft's for historical novels. Feed me a boob.”

“Nope, take another bite and hit Play on the remote.” Since the remote lay on her thigh, his hazel eyes glinted mischief and deviousness, and he tried to remove his hand from behind his head.

“Uh-uh,” she mocked. “I forgot you can't use your hands. Too bad.”

He growled and opened his mouth, and she popped the last crusty piece in. His eyes narrowed, but he chomped the pizza.

She made him eat three slices before hitting Play on the remote.

The first ten minutes of
Deep Throat
formed a futile attempt at a plot.

“You've got to be kidding,” Destiny grumped. “Her clitoris is in her throat? That's the plot line?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Linc retorted. “How about two clits? A throat one and a regular pussy one.”

He rolled his eyes. “The mind boggles.”

“I think I like airbrushing.” She shuddered when a non-doctored close up of a full frontal shot of vagina stayed on the screen for a too-long fifteen seconds.

“Omigod.” Destiny stared at Linc's glistening penis. “I don't know if I can do that.”

She swallowed when Linda Lovelace's lips slipped to the base of Harry Reem's substantial, fat dick. “And he's not half your size.”

“You can practice all you want, woman,” he croaked. “Are you going to practice? Soon?”

“Stay right there,” she ordered, levering between his legs. “Hmm, I have limited access with you in this position. Lie down.”

“Hands?” he asked, brows doing a hopeful tilt.

“Behind your head.” She pointed. “On the pillow.”

The bounty of his genitalia made her as giddy as a carousel spinning out of control, and she sucked in much-needed oxygen.

His sinewy thighs caught her fancy; she lowered her face and licked the bunched muscles. His quadriceps twitched. Twirling a scarlet nail in the sandy hair dusting his groin, she breathed in the musk of his arousal, turned her face into the spot between dick and pelvis, and bit the ridge there, then laved the spot.

He grunted, and she laid her cheek flat on his belly, stroking her finger over the slit in the head of his dick. A deep moan rumbled through her ear.

Peeping up from under her lashes, she blinked his face into focus, arrested by the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. His gaze was fixed on her hand when she curled her fingers around his dick. His chest rose and fell faster, his lips thinned, and he bared his teeth, gritting so hard, she heard the slight squeak.

Power made her giddy. If stroking his penis made him look like a caveman, what would licking do?

She had always loved lollipops and bought the giant round grape kind. She swiped a circle around his reddened glans, teasing nibbles on the ridge, tasting a flavor similar to oyster brine. The texture of the drop was sticky, almost tacky. “Mmm.”

“Fuck.”

Destiny smiled wide and took the whole head in her mouth. She sat on her haunches and held his erection the way Linda did on the DVD, running both hands down the smooth satin of his dick, learning the length and girth of him slowly. When she flicked her tongue on the ridged underside of the crown of his cock, Linc cussed.