Page 1 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Summer

I shouldn’t be here.

I knew it before I slid behind the wheel, before my fingers clenched too tightly around it, before the streetlights blurred past in streaks of regret. My pulse pounded a steady don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t do this—but I never turned around.

Not even when I parked. Not even when I sat in my car, staring at Connor’s front door, heart hammering.

The vibration in my lap made me jump.

Victor: We’re leaving early tomorrow. Don’t stay out too late.

My throat went tight. I stared at the words like I could rewrite them, then swiped the notification away. I was a shitty sister. Vic had no idea where I was. No idea who I was about to see. And still, I got out.

The night was thick and humid, heat clinging to my skin as I crossed the pavement, climbed the stairs, and stopped in front of his door. My breath was uneven. My nerves crackled under my skin.

I knocked. Sharp. Insistent.

The door swung open. Connor McIntyre leaned against the frame, wearing just a pair of gray sweatpants, shirtless and sweat-slicked, blond hair a tousled mess.My stomach twisted. I should’ve left. I should have turned around before I saw something I couldn’t unsee.

But I didn’t.

Connor’s green eyes flicked over me, his brow creasing. “Summer?” His voice was rough—sleep-laced, whiskey-soaked. Maybe both.

I swallowed hard. “Connor, I—” The words tangled in my throat. “Please let me in.”

A pause. His lips moved, like he might say yes. Then he pressed them together and shook his head. “No. I can’t do this tonight, Summer.”

He started to close the door.

“Why?” I blurted. My voice was sharp. “Is someone else here?”

It wouldn’t be the first time. This—whatever the fuck it was—was just sex.

His eyes darkened. For a second, I thought he’d deny it. But he didn’t. Somehow, that was worse.

Panic flared. I moved without thinking, pressing my hand flat against the door as he tried to shut it again.

“Connor, please.” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

His gaze locked onto mine, something flickering beneath the surface. He saw too much—he always did. But fuck, this thing between us had lasted a year, and the thought of leaving, of leaving him, left me in knots.

“What the hell are you doing here, Summer?” His voice was rough.

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

He dragged a hand through his messy blond waves, shaking his head. “You always do this,” he muttered. “Why do you make this harder for yourself, baby?”

His words hit me with all the force of a slap. The endearment… what he was saying. One part of me was addicted to hearing him call me by a nickname, the other part furious that he wasn’t fighting for me. For us.

It’s just sex, I reminded myself.

“Do what?” I snapped.

“Show up when you shouldn’t.” His green eyes burned into mine. “We agreed this wouldn’t happen again.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

He shook his head, stepping back, his expression unreadable. “You’re leaving town in a few hours, Summer.” His voice curled like smoke, like the words tasted bad. “Why the fuck are you here when you should be packing?”

It sliced through me. He was right. I should be.

“Are you really so eager to see me go?” I shot back, my voice sharp enough to mask the ache beneath it.

His lips sneered, but there was no humor in it. “We weren’t ever anything serious, Summer. I’m done keeping secrets from Vic. It should never have gone on for as long as it did.” His voice was cold now. “You should go.”

Hearing my brother’s name—our secret laid out like a threat—made my stomach lurch. Vic would kill me if he knew. But still, I didn’t leave—somehow, the thought of doing that hurt me worse.

“Summer,” Connor warned, his voice rough.

I took a breath, ready to say something—anything—but I faltered.

Seeing my indecision did something to him. Connor ran his fingers over his lips and swore under his breath. “Fuck it.”

In a swift motion, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut. My back hit it hard. And before I could breathe, before I could think—

His mouth was on mine, rough and desperate, and my body answered before my mind could. His hands grabbed my waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I tangled my hands in his hair and pulled him closer, needing more—but he tore away, breath ragged, forehead pressing against mine. His fingers circled my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse—measuring just how much he still owned me.

His next kiss was harder.

Frustrated. Desperate. A clash of teeth and tongues and too many unsaid words. His hands were everywhere.

I met him with equal force, nails digging into his shoulders, matching his frustration with my own.

My whimpers were swallowed instantly as he sucked on my tongue, his hands sliding beneath my shirt, scorching against my bare skin.

And when he lifted me, pressed me against the door, stripped me down to my underwear—I let him.

Because this was goodbye. Because no one else would ever make me feel this way.

His body was all heat and hard muscle, his mouth tracing over my jaw, my throat, the hollow between my collarbones. Licking. Sucking. Biting.

I gasped when he picked me up properly, hands around my thighs until I wrapped them around his waist tightly. The same way I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carried me through the living room and down the hall.

Connor’s breath hissed into my mouth when I bit his bottom lip, sucking on it and only letting go to groan when my back thumped against a wall. He used the momentum to rock into me, cock hard and teasing.

It distracted me so much, I barely registered the moment he pulled me away and walked through the door of his bedroom.

Not until my back hit the mattress. All I could focus on was him—the press of his lips, the teasing hum that rumbled from his chest as his fingers pressed against my soaked panties.

The fabric tore, my panties were discarded. Two fingers slipped inside me—shallow, teasing, not nearly enough. My breath hitched, and his smirk deepened.

“Connor—”

“Headboard,” he ordered.

My stomach flipped. My thighs clenched. I twisted onto my belly then reached up, curling my fingers around the wood.

Connor growled his approval, his hands already reaching out to strip me bare—slow, deliberate. My clothes landed somewhere on his bedroom floor. His hands reached to touch me, palming my breasts and stroked my body before pulling away again.

I heard a zipper, and couldn’t resist peeking at him over my shoulder.

My mouth went dry at the sight of his jeans crumpling to the floor and his cock in his hands.

Connor was big—thick, hard, veined—and he knew it.

He grabbed his cock as he climbed onto the bed, pulling back my hips to drag the tip along my slick folds. “Ready for me, Summer?”

I nodded, tilting my ass higher.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not stopping.”

Then he slammed into me, and I lost myself.

“You’ll feel my cock for weeks,” he snarled, his thrusts brutal. “No one else will make you feel like this. No one.”

I whined. Each snap of his hips drove me deeper into the mattress, forcing strangled moans from my lips. His fingers digging into my flesh as he stretched me, filled me, claimed me.

He knew my body too well. Knew how I trembled, how I clenched around him, overwhelmed but unwilling to stop.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the way I arched into him, the way my thighs quivered. His thumb brushed my clit, slick and swollen, pressing just enough to make my body jerk.

I whimpered.

His lips curled.

“Gonna cum for me, Princess?” His voice was all taunt, all wicked amusement.

I hated him for it. But my body didn’t care. Pleasure coiled tightly, my breath catching as I clenched around him. He felt it—saw it—and his smirk deepened, dragging me to the edge with ruthless precision.

“Connor—” I gasped.

“I know.” His thrusts turned devastating, his fingers pressing, circling—forcing me over.

I shattered.

It was too much. Too intense. I screamed his name, my body locking as waves of pleasure ripped through me.

Connor groaned, his pace faltering, his cock pulsing inside me as his hands returned to my hips and he chased his own release. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him.

His breath was hot against my throat as he rolled his hips, keeping himself buried deeply as his cock throbbed and jerked inside of me.

My body still trembled, oversensitive, wrecked from the orgasm he tore from me.

The last thing I expected was for him to spread my ass and run a finger over my tight hole.

“Connor.” I stiffened. But he knew how to unravel me. His arm crept around my waist, dipping low between my legs until his fingers could brush my clit. My cunt spasmed at the touch.

“You’re still so fucking wet for me,” he whispered. “Let me in, Summer. I want to feel your ass squeezing my fingers when I make you cum again.”

I should’ve pushed him away. That was a boundary we hadn’t crossed yet—but the thought of leaving made my heart ache.

Connor moved again—his softening cock pushing into me with a slow grind that reached deep enough to make my toes curl. My resolve shattered.

“…Fine.”

His breath hitched. “That’s my girl.”

I wished he’d kiss me, but I settled for his finger pressing into my hole, teasing me open, preparing me. I whimpered, burying my face into his pillow until all I could smell and feel was him .

Connor took his time, stretching my hole slowly but surely and twisting his other fingers around my clit. When my body locked and my breath hitched, when I fought against the stretch , he murmured, “Breathe for me, baby.”

I did.

I couldn’t deny him anything.

His fingers stroked, teasing my clit, my body still too raw from my orgasm, too sensitive, too responsive. He felt the way I shuddered, the way my hips twitched against his touch.