Page 17 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Tiernan

I ’d stayed away for as long as I could earlier, but I was in a shit mood the whole time.

I wanted Dean in my house, but I knew I shouldn’t be around him either.

The shit both Cil and Rory say about him being mine is fucking with my head.

Yeah, I’m a possessive motherfucker, but not in the way I am with him, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.

But now we’re here. I sold a shit ton of product today. Had a phone call with my father and got an update on some stuff back home, and Michael fucking Jensen has been on his best behavior.

We’re done eating dinner, and Aislin is doing homework with Dean while I’m sitting on the couch, watching the two of them with a scowl. He smiles at her a lot, laughs with her in a way he doesn’t with me, and though I shouldn’t fucking care, it’s obviously got me feeling something.

I’ve never been jealous of my sister before, never been jealous of anyone, and I want to kill him and also fuck him for making me feel it.

“The two of you fucking done or what?” I snap, my frustration clear in my tone.

“Yes. I’m actually tired. So, so tired.” It’s only eight o’clock, but Aislin does an exaggerated fake yawn and stretch. An actress, she is not.

“You’re an idiot.”

She walks over and kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

“You too,” I tell her, then watch as she tells Dean good night, then goes upstairs.

He doesn’t move, just continues to sit on the floor, at the coffee table, watching me.

“Why am I here?” he finally asks, in that deep, melodic voice of his. “Because you want to fuck me?”

I grin. “I was thinking because you have computer skills that could be beneficial to me, but if you want to fuck, we can do that too.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”

I don’t try to stop my smile. “Because I’m willing to have sex with you? I think that’s very nice of me.”

“Shut up and show me where your shower is.” He pushes to his feet and grabs his bag.

While I enjoy going back and forth with him, probably more than I enjoy much of anything else in my life, I stand too. “If you insist.”

Dean follows me upstairs. “You’re being very agreeable tonight.”

“Because I said I’d fuck you?”

“I never said I wanted you to fuck me.” When we hit the carpet at the top of the stairs, he says, “Maybe I want to fuck you.”

“We can fight for who gets to be on top. I know how much you love to fight, but FYI, I don’t play fair.” I don’t allow myself to overthink my words. I’ve never bottomed, though not because I have any hangups about it. I’ve just never found someone I wanted to do it for.

“I never thought you would.”

“Good boy—umpf.” He presses me against the door, the front of his body aligned with my back.

While I know I should get out of this, show him he can’t touch me whenever he wants and that he doesn’t have control over me, I must admit, the way my pulse races and the pleasureful energy racing through me are indescribable.

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

“What? My good boy? You know you want to be good for me.”

Dean thrusts against me, the stiff length in his jeans sending sensation skittering through me.

When he doesn’t reply right away, I cock my head to the side so he has better access.

“Do you want to mark me again? Does it make you feel powerful? I sense that in you. I can feel your desire for it. You lived a normal, boring life until you met me, didn’t you, and now you want a taste for what I have. ”

Pain shoots through my neck when he bites into it. “Oh fuck.” Pleasure darts down my spine, my dick throbbing. Why the fuck does he get to me this much? I don’t understand it.

He buries his face in my neck, not biting me now, not sucking or anything. Just…breathing. “I don’t want to be like you.”

But he does. We both know that. I sensed it in him the moment I met him.

I don’t move. Hell, maybe I don’t even breathe. I’m still pressed against the door, being held there by Dean’s lean body, but not with any kind of strength this time. It’s almost like I’m holding him up.

Push him away. Push him the fuck away.

“It’s okay to want it. To need it. To fucking thrive off it.” I do, even if I hate myself for it.

“Who are you?” His voice is so soft, I’m not even sure I heard exactly what he said.

The question makes sense, though. He knows something’s going on here, with us.

He must. One Google search would have a million stories for him to read about a powerful family everyone knows is bad but can never prove it.

That leads me to believe he either doesn’t want to look too deeply, or he’s found information and doesn’t care.

But for a reason I can’t explain, it feels like that’s not what he’s talking about.

“There. I gave you your mark. Happy?” He pulls away. When I turn, I see him adjust his erection in his jeans. The thing that really blows my mind is that I am happy. I do want to be marked by him, and before this night is over, I plan to mark him again too.

“I mean, I’d be happier if you sucked my dick, but I can wait until after your shower.”

“Jesus,” he curses, and something about that one word makes the corners of my mouth curl up.

I unlock the door, push it open, and turn the light on, before stepping aside and signaling for Dean to go in.

He does, not speaking as he walks around, taking it in.

What does he think about my space? The black walls with shaker-style square paneling.

I don’t get so much as a glance when I close and lock the door behind us.

“You have a lot of books.” He walks over to one of the walls that holds shelves filled to the brim.

“This isn’t even all of them.”

With my back against the wall, the hard wood holding me up, I study him as he looks, touches, dances his fingers down the spines almost…longingly. Definitely with a reverence that no one else in my life has for books.

“You read them?”

“No, I eat them. Isn’t that what you said to me? They’re the perfect midnight snack.” I roll my eyes, and he flips me off.

He continues to browse, taking it all in while I do the same with him. He’s…frustrating and sexy, and it feels like I know him. Like inside, which makes no fucking sense, and I don’t even understand why I would think that. But it’s as if I see myself in him.

When he reaches the end of the shelves, he looks at the cross on the wall. With a half grin, he turns to me. I just shrug. “I’m Irish. Of course I’m Catholic. Next time I go to confessional, I’ll have to confess to sodomy. It’s all your fault. You’re going to make me sin.”

“Somehow, I have a feeling that’s the least of your sins.”

I don’t need to tell him he’s right because we both know it. He’s entranced by who I am, by the things he must know I do. Where most people would run and hide, Dean keeps coming back for more. “I don’t usually talk about those until the second date.”

“This is a date?” He moves toward my bed, picking up his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo from my nightstand. “I don’t remember you asking.”

“I told you to stay, and you did.” It’s like my feet have a mind of their own, and before I know it, I’m right behind him, so fucking close I feel the heat of his body against mine.

I wrap my arms around him and open the book.

“I read up to where your bookmark is.” His breath hitches, and as if that action controls my body, I smile.

“See? I’m not a total asshole. I waited for you. ”

“I told you I’ve read it before.”

“Does that make me any less sweet?” This is so far from my reality, I doubt I’m in the same universe anymore.

Am I sweet? Fuck no. Do I want to be? Fuck no, again.

But I like teasing him like this, playing with him and feeling his body tremble in response.

Still, I pull away. “You wanted to shower, right? It’s through that door.

” I point to the en suite as I’m taking off my shoes.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Why do you need clothes? I like you better naked.” I begin unbuttoning my shirt.

“Does this typically work for you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t usually do this.”

He shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe me. I’ll let him think it’s a lie.

“If you want clothes, grab some shorts from the dresser. You know I won’t force you, but you also know what I want. There are supplies under the cabinet, if you’re so inclined.”

Dean lifts his arm, pokes at the angry, throbbing mark on my neck where he bit me, then walks to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him, my drawers left untouched.

I pull my jeans off but leave my underwear on as I lie on the mattress.

When I hear the shower turn on, I press the code to open the top drawer of my nightstand and check my gun box to make sure it’s locked.

I’m good about keeping it locked and the case affixed inside so it can’t be removed, but I also don’t ever have anyone in my room other than Aislin, Cillian, or Rory.

Beside the box sit condoms and a bottle of lube, and I pull those out just in case, then settle in with The Count , flipping through pages I already read. I haven’t lied when I told him I didn’t continue past where he left off.

This motherfucker has me all twisted up.

Time drags by, what feels like an eternity passing, before the shower turns off. I don’t set the book down, keeping my eyes on the pages as I wait for him, only glancing up when I sense him watching me.

“Oh, you’re done?” I ask a nearly naked Dean, wearing nothing except a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Why aren’t you naked?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

He answers by opening his towel and letting it fall to the ground. He’s…fuck, so fucking hot. Maybe a little too pale, but his skin’s unblemished, smooth, legs furry with dark hair, stomach flat and muscular, with a happy trail I want to bury my face in.

“Did you shower last time? When I told you not to?”

“Fuck you.”

I grin. “I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you smell like my cum again, and this time, you’ll be here, so I’ll see when someone gets too close to you and can smell me on your skin.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one to smell like me.”

I shrug. “We’ll smell like each other.”

Dean reaches out, and when his fingers clasp the band on my underwear, I’m nice enough to lift my hips so he can pull them off.

“Are we going to fight for it?” he asks.

It feels like I’m on a roller coaster, that adrenaline rush swooping through you on the first big drop. “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”