Page 46

SALT AND HONEY

ALEX

When I step into Sigma House, the energy cools to quiet whispers. People avoid catching my gaze, but their attention follows me as I make my way through the foyer.

Declan, Kole, Maddox, and Asher are the only four members who know what happened to Marco, but the rest of the House suspects it. They’re not stupid. They wouldn’t be here if they were.

At least they’re smart enough to keep their mouths shut when they see me because they believe the rumors told about Sigma Sin’s urban legend.

The one the House calls on to do shit that will make most members lose their lunch—or worse—their minds.

I’m numb to it, so it’s never bothered me when I’ve been tasked with the House’s dirty work. At least my tasks don’t require me to play politics like Declan is forced to as president.

It probably says something about me that the most human interaction I’ve had these past couple of years is when I’ve been chopping bodies to bits. That fact alone is why Declan’s first warning when I arrived at Sigma House was to try to act normal .

Like I even know what that is anymore.

For Declan’s sake, I’ve maintained appearances. I’ve done my best, with the exception of Marco.

And Oxy.

And Ricci.

Maybe I’ll try harder next week.

Two members watch me walk past, bristling when they meet my stare. It could be irritation since Marco was their friend, but the undercurrent of fear will keep them from questioning my actions.

Asher stops at the bottom of the staircase when he sees me coming. “You have a visitor.”

I nod, walking past him, appreciating his loyalty even if it’s clear he’s uncomfortable in my presence. He knew better than to let Mila wander the house without me here, so he’s earned a bit of my trust by bringing her to my room.

The carpeted stairs silence my steps as I ascend, and the cloud of pot that constantly hangs in the air seems to thicken the higher I go. Through it, I swear I smell Mila’s sweet apple-honey shampoo. I feel her in the air. She’s a magnet, and I’m helpless to resist her pull.

Reaching my door, I try the handle, relieved she was smart enough to lock it behind her. I pull out my key, and when I swing the door open, a soft glow of candles flickers. It makes my room warmer, in hue and temperature.

Sigma House is always cold.

It’s something I always found ironic, given it’s also the gateway to hell. But with Mila in my room, sitting in the candlelight, it’s strangely peaceful.

The door clicks shut as I face her sitting on my bed .

“Too much?” She presses her palms into the mattress behind her, which pushes up her tits.

Fuck she’s stunning.

Absolute perfection.

Her rich-brown hair is loose and wavy around her shoulders. And the lacy black slip she’s wearing hides nothing. It clings to her every curve, dipping like a heart between her perfect breasts. Her see-through thigh-highs stop just above her knees.

She’s all skin, lace, and beauty.

And I’m the monster who doesn’t mind taking a bite. Who craves her taste whether it damns her to hell with me or not.

I cross the room, not caring that all I have to offer her is a heart seeping with toxin.

One I’m tempted to cut from my chest now.

To lay it at her feet to prove that I didn’t actually have a purpose until she walked into my life.

I might have been the one to pull her from the fire, but she’s the one who saved me.

She grabbed my mangled hand and saw something beyond the monster they created.

Lacing my fingers into the back of her hair, I look into her eyes. While her body is sinful perfection, her stare is what pulls me in. It anchors me to a life I didn’t want until I met her.

“You don’t need to dress up for me, Mila.” I plant a kiss on her forehead. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She grabs my wrist and pulls my hand from her hair, down her neck, pausing on the swell of her breast. “I know you don’t need it. That’s why I want to.”

Mila leans forward, slipping off the bed and kneeling in front of me.

My entire body goes rigid at the sight of her because while it looks like submission, she knows what she’s doing is something else entirely. There are very few things I can resist when it comes to this girl, but her touch still terrifies me. Strips me to the bone. Unravels all my control.

Her hands rest on my thighs, and I know what she’s asking with her big green eyes. It has my back stiff, and my throat clogged.

Mila is testing how much I trust her after our confessions to each other this morning. She’s seeing how far I’ll let go of the reins for her.

“Can I?” She looks up at me, stunning me to silence. “Will you let me touch you, Alex?”

The first time we fucked, I could barely handle her hands on my chest. Now, she’s asking for it all. She wants to be the one to make me come apart. And as much as every fiber of my body tries to resist, I want that with her.

Mila blinks up at me, accepting the monster I am. A man who doesn’t regret what he’s done. She could resent me for lying to her about the past, or going to extremes for her now, but she doesn’t. Which is why I try to release the leash. To trust her when I don’t trust myself.

I grip one of the bed’s four posts, staring into her wide green eyes.

Words won’t come out. I can’t say a damn thing when she rips into my rawest wounds and demands I let her see them. So I nod instead, swallowing against the knot lodged in my throat.

Mila’s small hands skate around my knees and up my thighs.

Everything from my toes to my cock is heavy as her palms trace closer.

Her tits press against the thin black lace.

But I don’t break her stare. It’s all that holds me here.

All that keeps me together as she works at the zipper and slowly frees my cock .

It aches. And when she wraps her hand around the base, I’m throbbing. Blood pounds between my temples, silencing anything but my heartbeat as she strokes me to the tip.

I’ve done my best to control my urges around her. But the trust in her gaze as she lifts on her knees nearly rips me in two.

Her lips part, and I lose all remaining sanity as her tongue flattens against the head of my cock. I leak into her mouth, and the wooden bedpost groans from how much pressure I’m putting on it.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck, but it’s not from the candles in the room.

Mila wraps her perfect lips around my cock, and I lose all hope I’ll survive her. Nothing has killed me up until this point, even when I wished it would. But Mila Bianchi is going to be the end of me.

My cock hits the back of her throat, and I steal that hit of heaven I’m not allowed.

Or maybe, it’s hell.

A place that burns me from the inside out. Where lust sears so hot I can barely hold myself against it.

She hums, and my knees buckle.

Touch is pain.

Touch is torture.

But Mila is none of those things. She stitches me back together. Her throat works to take me deeper, and all I feel are the good things I never believed existed.

Her eyes don’t leave mine because she knows I need them. Tears leak from the corners as she tries to stretch her pretty mouth to fit me. And I wipe those tears away with my thumbs, rubbing the underside of her eyes, trying to understand them .

How sadness can exist on the same spectrum as pain and pleasure and euphoria.

Emotions never made sense to me, but Mila hands me all of them.

She swallows my cock down her throat, and I stick my thumb in my mouth to taste her tears. To wrap my mind around what she’s doing to me.

It’s too complex.

Salt and honey. Things that don’t make sense together.

Like us.

I pull my hips back until her mouth pops off my cock. The breath that fills her lungs sucks all the air from the room. As good as her tongue feels, I need more of her.

All of her.

Gripping her chin, I guide her to stand so she can meet my kiss. She melts into my arms, and when I drag my hands down the back of her thighs, she trusts me with her weight, wrapping her ankles around my hips where she belongs.

I’m her home, and she’s my anchor.

Stepping forward, I drop us down on the bed. Her legs hang over the edge, and I’m still mostly standing, but there’s no time. I need to be inside her. She can think what she wants about my desperation, but I’ve never needed anything like I need Mila.

I slip her lace panties to the side and don’t bother with the rest of her lingerie before sliding deep. Her breath, a whisper that tries to escape as her slick cunt grips me with every ounce of her need. I seal my mouth to hers, and I fuck her with everything I’m feeling.

Defeat.

Hope.

Opposite ends of a coin that won’t stop spinning .

I fuck her onto the bed until I’m climbing over her. Until she’s clawing at my shirt and ripping it off me. My jeans are at my ankles, and her tits spill out the top of the lace. Her pebbled nipples brush my chest. My teeth sink into the heavy mound of her breast, and she screams.

So I steal that too.

Swallow her scream and claim the kiss. I bite her lower lip while she pants and sucks and moans for me. Her hands roam everywhere.

She paints me with her touch.

Over my neck, my chest, my scars.

Mila is the only one allowed to explore me. She’s the only one allowed to touch me. To know me. Because she doesn’t look at me and see the mess they made. She sees who I really am.

Her nails dig into my sides as her pussy tightens, and I barely fit. If she squeezes much harder, I’m going to come or black out. Maybe one, then the other.

Her head tips back, breaking the kiss with her scream as she comes. And that’s all the resistance I have. She undoes the cork and releases me.

She sets me free.

I fuck her into the bed, my cock dripping with how wet she is. And I lick the sweat that drips down her neck because I need to taste her. I fuck her until I’m splitting in two, and there’s no other way for me to exist than to make myself a part of her.

I’m out of breath when I finally collapse, and she’s shaking. For a second, it’s so violent, I think something is wrong. But when I lift to meet her eyes, they’re hazy and sated.

“Are you okay?” I trace the apple of her cheeks.

They’re filled with color as her breath steadies .

“Perfect.” She smiles. “Are you?”

“I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes it is.” I grin, looking down at her as I pull out.

As much as I love fucking her, I love watching that look in her eyes when my cock slips from her body. When she’s empty, and the faintest hint of annoyance flashes in her gaze. She needs me inside her as much as I need to be there.

My phone pings from my pocket, and I groan.

“You’re awfully popular for a guy who just spent the last few years locked up in a psychiatric ward.” She smirks.

“Declan and Kole can’t stand not being here. Their summer away requires lots of hand-holding.” It’s true, but I also hope the text is Kole sending me information about who is threatening her.

“Sigma Sin men with control issues? I’m shocked.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful.

“I’m sure you are.” Lifting to my feet, I pull up my pants and button them while Mila fixes her outfit.

My phone pings with another message, but it’s not from Kole. It’s from Declan.

“That’s not a happy face.” Mila stretches her bare legs.

“Dec needs me to take care of something.” I shove my phone into my pocket and grab my shirt, pulling it on.

“I can leave.”

“Don’t.” Leaning down, I plant a kiss on her mouth, loving that she still tastes like us. “I want you here when I get back.”

“Okay.” Mila smiles against my mouth.

I kiss her again on the lips, then her neck, slowly moving down her chest and stomach. My kisses trail the path down her center to her leg until I plant a final one on the top of her foot.

Maybe later I’ll kiss every inch of her body.

She deflates onto my bed, smiling at me as I turn to leave. I want her to stay in my room with me forever.

But I manage to swallow that down so she doesn’t run while I’m gone. I’ll save that confession for a time when I can pin her down until she accepts there’s no cutting me out. I’m in her life like she’s in my veins.

And there’s no bleeding her out.