Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) (7 page)

“Aim for the fireplace, Destiny. Less clean up.” He squatted as the other glass smashed into the stone mantel on the opposite wall.

Both bowls followed. Linc couldn't identify her target, since almost every wall or surface had been hit. When she gripped a knife handle, he vaulted to his feet, grabbed both her wrists, and used his pelvis to immobilize her against the cabinet.

“Don't move your feet. There's glass and shards everywhere.” She struck his shoulder, pinched his forearm, and tweaked his nipple while he maneuvered her sweet ass onto the counter. When she bared her teeth, he sucked in his belly and leaned back.

“No. Stop. You will not bite me to hurt me.” Giving her a serious shake, Linc growled, “You
are
fucking special, Destiny Driven, and you
will
get over this, because I fully intend to make love to you for as long as it takes.”

A hot tear plopped onto his chest, followed by another, then another, and the drips grew into a steady stream.

“I
will
not cry.”

Her voice came out on a croak, and the slight hiccup in her fierce statement made his heart roll over in his chest.

“Cry, sweet Destiny, cry. Let it all out.”

She took his advice. Face covered with her hands, she cried, muttering incoherent little phrases including
traitor
,
chauvinistic pig
,
Judas
, and
thunder thighs
, in between bouts of sobbing. After her little fists beat his shoulders, her thumbs rubbed soothing circles on the spots she'd hit.

Destiny bawled adorably. His lips kept twitching, and he couldn't repress a few broad grins, which thankfully she never saw since her nose was buried in his chest. All the while he stroked her back, sliding his hand along the curve of her spine, sniffing her hair, occasionally massaging the base of her neck, kneading bunched muscles. Destiny had a host of insecurities, and from her mumbles and grumbles, he discerned a truckload of blame rested clearly on her parents' shoulders.

The midnight darkness behind the wall of windows in the main room of the cabin lifted a shade, the slight alleviation the harbinger of Alaskan predawn. Big, fat snowflakes drifted in lazy swirls to the white carpet mounded fifteen inches high in some areas. The fierce gusts of the day before had ebbed, and the forest rimming the mountain's ridge slowly came into view. The fruit on the pear tree, the one he surmised he'd landed in, bobbed small curtsies.

Beneath his questing palms, Destiny's body grew limp, and she jerked and melted against his torso. As gently as he could, Linc picked her up and cradled her head close to his heart. Never in a million years would he ever have picked eyelashes as a memorable body part. They were eyelashes, for Christ's sake. Yet the way hers fluttered half closed, then dipped a bit more, proved fascinating.

You're getting under my skin, Destiny Driven, and it scares the shit right out of me.

The feel of her in his arms, all warm and soft and perfect, held some measure of comfort, though he ached to rail and shout at something, anything. From the minute he'd set eyes on her, she'd discombobulated him. Lincoln studied her features, his gaze touring her arched black eyebrows, the damned lashes that made his insides mush, her aquiline nose, lips that belonged on a porn magazine's cover, and that stubborn chin that tilted up even in slumber.

I'm a goner. I think her chin's cute. I love the way she cries, and I can't let her out of my arms.

She didn't stir when he walked them into the bedroom. Her skin smelled of the lavender bath salts he'd emptied into the tub earlier, but another aroma rode the fragrance, something fresh and clean and all Destiny.

She didn't budge when he undressed her; not so much as a whimper graced her luscious lips. He studied her form after laying her on the mattress.

Why the pseudonym? What secrets are you hiding? Why'd you clam up when I asked about your parents?

Linc remembered the broken glasses, returned to the kitchen, and cleaned up the mess. He made the rounds of the cabin, checking all the exits and windows, and when convinced all was secure, headed back to the bedroom.

He joined her on the bed, settling them under the covers, and snugging her head under his jaw. One arm tucked behind his neck, he stared at the pine-paneled ceiling. He knew it was useless trying to contact Satan aka Lorcan now. Too much time had elapsed. The squad had a predetermined schedule for family radio communication; Satan would try again in a couple of hours.

A breathy little sigh drew his gaze to her fluttering eyelids. Maybe she
was
his Destiny. He’d served his country for sixteen years, and this was his last mission.

Linc enlisted in the Navy a couple of years after graduating high school. He’d had no planned career in mind until serving with a buddy who was determined to be a SEAL. TEAM training had turned him into a disciplined and competitive warrior, but becoming a paratrooper, and serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, had straightened him out. He'd always been the black sheep of the family, the one who rebelled and cut off his nose to spite his face.

Afghanistan taught him to live for the moment. To reach for the joy, daily, not to count on a future, because you could die with each dawn, each sunset. He'd lived fast and hard, cramming everything into each waking moment, letting all hell loose every R&R.

A deep hunger drove him to volunteer for the most dangerous missions. The daredevil he'd always battled but never conquered took him to sex clubs and baby-oil orgies when he was on leave. A couple of years ago the desire for group sex had dissipated. He'd restricted his fucking to one woman at a time for the past twelve months. Okay, there'd been several women.

How the hell would she handle his sexual past?

Christ, when she found out the details about him and Nadine, the shit would hit the roof. And he hadn't even begun to initiate her into his bedroom habits. He wanted everything from her—sex in the dirtiest way, her lips swallowing his dick, his mouth making her cream and climax. An image of Destiny blindfolded and spread-eagled had his dick jumping and leaking precum on his belly.

No way would he let her out of his sight.

No way was she returning to New York City without him.

Two weeks ago he'd spent Labor Day with his family. The hotdog and burger holiday had left an ache in his chest. Watching his siblings, their spouses, and their children had made him realize how much he'd given up with constant deployments. He missed the good old U.S. of A. Missed apple pie, ice cream, and fireworks on the Fourth of July. He'd envied his siblings and their Campbell's-soup-commercial family units.

An only child.

He glanced down at her.

Did she want kids?

In repose, her features had softened, her plump lips relaxing into a dreamy curve. Her breasts rose and fell, scraping his chest with each inhalation. Linc's thoughts splintered. He yearned to be inside her, to feel her walls clenching his dick; yet he felt strangely content, savoring the way she curled around him, her leg bent over his groin, one arm looped around his neck. So trusting, so his.

His thoughts speared and tangoed, testing strategies—persuade her to live with him, move to New York City, probably Manhattan. Hell, he hated big cities. Would she settle for Long Island? Just how much did this editor gig mean to her? Maybe she could do her job remotely?

Exhaustion claimed him limb by limb. Accustomed to taking his body to extremes, to constant discipline and vigilance, to always being alert, his awareness slipped, and he slid into her warmth, into her hold, and the slumber of the ages drained his brain.

The next thing he knew, the bright rays of a noonday sun warmed his eyelids. Destiny snuggled closer, her hand exploring his left nipple, her thumb resting on the pointed tip. His morning woody swelled and lengthened. He nuzzled her neck, she moaned, and Linc traced her face, rosy color staining her cheekbones. Was she dreaming of him? All at once he knew, knew right to his core, he'd make sure he was the only one starring in her morning sex fantasies. Jesus, he loved a first-thing-in-the-morning fuck. And this was their first.

Linc slid his hand between her legs, loving the access the angle of her leg over his pelvis gave, and he slipped two fingers between her folds, relishing the way she moistened and creamed under his caress. His eyes crossed.

Slow, slow, Destiny isn't even used to regular sex.

He grabbed a condom from the bedside table, opened the foil packet, and rolled the rubber down his dick. He played with her slick pussy, toying with her labia, and spreading her cream over her hooded clit. He slipped a finger inside her and couldn't choke back a groan when she tightened around the digit, her walls clamping his forefinger.

“Mmm,” she murmured, her hot breath warming the chill air in the bedroom.

“Mornin',” he whispered, kissing her forehead, his thumb searching for her clit.

“Whaaat?” She shot up, elbows digging into his pecs, obsidian eyes as wide as the bowls they'd used for the stew last night.

He slid his finger out. Her gaze flew to his hand. He used two fingers to thrust inside her.

Her lids lowered; her head fell back.

“Sore?” Praying she'd answer in the negative, he continued his finger fucking, inserting another digit when she bit his shoulder.

“No, not sore.” Destiny licked the skin she'd bitten. “Aching.” Her teeth closed over the cusp of his shoulder and sank into his flesh.

“Beauty, Destiny. Beauty.” He crooned encouragement, lifted her over him, spread her legs, and thrust into her creaming pussy. “Jesus, you feel good.”

So tight, so hot and wet, so welcoming, clamping the glans of his dick, her walls fighting his drive to her core.

“Please move.” She feathered kisses on his Adam's apple, licked a wet trail up his throat, and nibbled his chin. “Please.”

He wanted to, wanted to pound her pussy, make her shake and tremble and fucking come again and again and then some more. Linc gritted his teeth and fisted one hand in her hair; the other squeezed one ass cheek. “Don't move. Not an inch.”

She squirmed; his dick thickened. He tightened his hold on her silky locks, bringing her face up. “I'm going to kiss us both to orgasm. You move, and you'll pay later.”

He gave her a little shake and demanded, “Got that?”

“I want to move,” she croaked, her voice a mere thought, barely audible. Licking his jaw, she fixed her black eyes on his, and pled, “Please?”

“Uh-uh.” The grunt was all he could manage. He shifted, widening his thighs, and clamped a leg over each one of hers, bearing down hard so she couldn't move.

Onyx brows arched, and she whimpered.

The delicious sound pushed him over the edge. He angled her hips and thrust deep and hard, lids lowering to half-mast as sheer ecstasy pumped blood to his groin to a level near pain.

She whimpered again, that back-of-the-throat, husky sound she'd made last night. Her eyes took on a faraway, dreamy glaze; her lips were swollen and wet, plump and inviting, and he couldn't resist.

He swooped in and captured her mouth, his tongue plunging in, tasting her essence, licking her teeth, learning all her hot spots. She gasped, her breath coating warmth over the insides of his cheek. He bit down on her tongue, letting her know he was in charge.

Her whimpers reverberated in his mouth; she turned relentless, kissing him back, touching her tongue to his, rolling over and around. Nipping her again, he loosened his hold on her ass, and she wriggled, her pussy teasing his dick.

Linc smacked her butt hard, but before he could grip her sweet cheeks again, she ground down on him. Her pussy fastened around his dick, the clenching and convulsing walls hotter than hell, creaming him; the hairs on his balls bristled and prickled.

“Come,” he growled the words into her mouth and snagged her bottom lip between his teeth.

Destiny fucking came.

Blizzard whiteness couldn't blind him more than the milking of her pussy.

Explosion after explosion racked shudders through her body and his. The aftershocks squeezed him into another spurt; he suckled her lips through it, teasing her with half kisses, withholding his tongue until she spasmed, again wringing more cum from his dick.

Iron discipline shattered, brain unable to function, Linc stroked her spine and pulled the sheets over her shoulders. She melted into him like a purring kitten, dozing and murmuring in her sleep, and he loved it—loved the way she responded to him, loved that she'd come on his command from day one.

Day one?

He
was
far gone. Technically they hadn't even entered day two.

Linc's stomach rumbled, and an image of bacon, hash browns, fried eggs, and toast had his mouth watering the way no gourmet spread ever had. Still half-hard, he withdrew, and a smile tugged at his lips when her vagina resisted his dick's departure.

He kissed her forehead and shifted her head onto the pillow. Her lids rose slowly, and she peered at him. “Mmm?”

“Stay put,” he whispered. “I'll be right back.”

“Mmm.” Her eyelids closed, and she turned on her side, both hands under her cheek, raven locks fanning the white linen.

She looked like a little princess, his princess.

He sent a thank-you to whoever'd decided to get a gas water heater for the cabin, strode into the bathroom, flushed the used condom, filled a bowl with warm water, collected hand and face towels, and ambled back to the bedroom. After setting the round pottery on the bedside table, he dampened the square material and wrung it dry, all the while studying his Destiny's relaxed, sated pose.

“Turn over, Destiny,” he commanded, one hand applying a slight pressure to her smooth shoulder.

“Mmm?” One eye opened in response to his order.

When he cupped the warm terry over her folds, her brows did a rocket climb. She rose onto her forearms, dark eyes widening as she stared at the towel. “What?”

Her thighs squeezed his hand, and Linc grinned and demanded, “Spread, Destiny. You need a wash.”