Page 2 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

“Tell me you like this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on my neck. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hating that he was right. His body weight kept me in place, his thighs pressing against mine, his cock twitching deep inside me. All the sensations… God, it was wonderful.

I bit my lip, hard, trying to keep from making a sound. But Connor could feel it in my body. He could feel the way Itensed, the way my breath hitched, the way I was already melting beneath him, already caving.

His breath caressedmy skin. “I’m going to add another finger, baby.”

I let out a shaky breath, fighting against myself.

I should say no. I should push him away.

I should walk away from this for good. But then he moved again—slow, grinding movements that made me aware of exactly how wet I was between my legs.

And how it dripped down my thighs. That combined with how his hands were still teasing my clit, coaxing pleasured spasms between my legs.

My resolve shattered. I turned my face away, ashamed of how easily he won.

“…Fine.”

Connor’s breath caught.

“That’s my girl.” He stopped to pull my arm until I was twisted into a pretzel who could kiss him, and his lips devoured mine, hungry and victorious as he pulled that first finger out and gatheredup the wetness before he returned to my ass.

He coaxed his fingers between my cheeks, spreading me, dragging a slick fingertip over the place he wanted and I jerked instinctively, shame crawling up my spine.

“Relax,” he murmured against my lips, voice thick with amusement. “Or this is gonna hurt.”

I clenched my teeth, face burning. His other hand was still working my clit, fingers slick and insistent, making my hips twitch against him.

“I—” My breath hitched as he pushed just the tip of both fingers inside, slow, careful, but still too much.

I made a noise—something between a whimper and a protest—but he ignored it, easing his fingers deeper while I squeezed on every ridge and bump.

The first knuckle passed and I inhaled a shaky breath while he pushed more.

Until he reached the end of his fingers, and I felt his thumb tease the edge of my pussy, where his cock was slowly starting to harden again.

I whimpered against his mouth, and felt Connor’s teeth scrape against my lower lip, felt the heat of his breath as he slowly started thrusting two fingers inside my asshole, using his thighs to spread me even wider beneath him.

“There you go,” he murmured and I pulled away to bury my face in the mattress, trying to ignore how exposed I was, how my body was betraying me, how Connor was watching me squirm for him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he rasped as he dragged his finger in and out, slowly, deliberately, making me feel every stretch, every invasion, every filthy movement.

“God, I hate you,” I whispered, but it came out too breathless, too weak.

Connor chuckled, but sounded forced. “If you did, we wouldn’t be in this position, Summer.”

Tears pressed against my eyes, and I choked on a sob. God, I was going to miss him.

He added another finger, forcing me open more, his other hand teasing my clit, keeping me distracted, trapped between pain and pleasure. The pressure built. The burn of stretching, of being spread for him, sent a fresh wave of shame curling through me.

Connor pressed a kiss against my cheek, mockingly sweet, before murmuring, "You take me so fucking well, baby." Then, finally, he pulled his fingers free and reached for his wallet.

I heard the rip of foil. He pulled his cock out of me. My breath hitched. Please, god, don’t tell me he was going to… “Connor—”

"Shh," he murmured, I heard the slick sound of him pumping his cock. “Don’t move.”

I didn’t, frozen in place as his heavy cock brushed against me again. Not my pussy, but my ass.

“Connor,” I whispered again, hearing the click of a bottle cap. Cold liquid squirted on my ass and I squealed as he thrust it into my tight hole, spreading me wide and squirting more, deep inside. “Connor!”

“Breathe for me, baby.”

I barely got a chance to inhale before he pushed in. Fuck, it was so big. I cried out, my whole body locking up as he stretched me, claimed me, forced me to take every inch of him.

“Fuck, Summer,” he groaned, burying himself deeper, forcing me open more than I already was.

The burn was sharp, overwhelming, consuming—but he didn’t stop. He rolled his hips, inching in deeper, his breath hot against my neck, his voice hoarse with restraint.

“So fucking tight,” he rasped. “So fucking perfect.”

I whimpered, cheeks burning, shame taking over, mixing with a dark pleasure I’d never felt before. Connor took his time, making me feel every ridge, every inch of him.

I clawed at the sheets, body aching, shaking, overwhelmed—but when his fingers found my clit again, teasing, circling, pressing, I broke all over again. I came harder than ever before, screaming as every muscle inside of me clenched. As my ass milked him, giving him exactly what he wanted.

Connor fucking lost it.

With a ragged growl, he thrust deeply one last time, his whole body tensing, his cock jerking inside me as he came hard, emptying himself into the condom, holding me tight against him as if he could keep me there forever.

For a moment, there was nothing but heavy breathing, the sound of skin against skin, the lingering pulse of shared pleasure.

Then Connor pulled out, discarded the condom, and scooped me into his arms.

I blinked, too exhausted, too drained, too overwhelmed to react as he carried me through the dim apartment. My breath hitched when I realized where he was taking me. The bathroom. He set me down gently, flipping the shower on before grabbing a towel.

This wasn’t what we did. We fucked. We used each other. We didn’t take care of each other. But Connor didn’t speak. Didn’t let me go.

He cleaned me all over, his hands slow, methodical, lingering just a little too long, like he wasn’t ready to stop touching me yet and I tried not to cry.

We showered, and my heart felt like it was breaking the entire time. I could barely look at him as he washed the both of us. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to let him go.

I got out of the shower, grabbing a towel and watching him in the mirror. God, if he just asked—I’d stay. There wasn’t a home without him.

But he didn’t. I dried myself and Connor finished washing. My heart broke again, and I wiped away the tears before he could see. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

"You should probably go," Connor said, his voice rough, scratchy. "You’ve got an early start in the morning, right?"

It shouldn’t have hurt. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.

"Yeah," I whispered. "You’re right." I swallowed hard and walked out of the bathroom, my eyes blurry from tears as I searched for my clothes, pulling them on with shaking hands.

I couldn’t leave without looking back to see him one last time. I stopped in the door frame and turned to find him walking to his bed with a towel around his hips as he looked around for his cigarettes.

His back was to me, and my heart shattered all over again. This would be the last time we’d ever do this. I wanted him to stop me. To ask me to stay. But he didn’t. He just lit a cigarette.

So I whispered, “Goodbye, Connor,” and walked out the door.