Page 30 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Evie

The whiskey burned on the way down, a slow fire settling deep in my chest, but it didn’t numb me the way I needed it to.

Three drinks in, and I was still too fucking aware.

Aware of the way my fingers drummed against the bar, restless.

Aware of the way my stomach twisted every time I glanced at my phone.

Aware that I was supposed to be anywhere but here.

I should’ve stayed home. Should’ve locked the doors, turned off the lights, pretended I didn’t exist. Because my big brother was coming to town, and he wasn’t just pissed—he was fucking livid.

I’d sent the email weeks ago, knowing it would take him time to read it, to process it, to react.

But now that the reaction was here, barreling toward me at full speed, I needed something stronger than whiskey to take the edge off.

The bartender didn’t hesitate when I signaled for another shot. I tossed it back before the burn even registered, my lips curling slightly at the taste.

Tomorrow, I’d deal with the consequences. Tonight, I just wanted to forget.

The air in the bar was thick with smoke and sweat, the bass from the speakers vibrating in my ribs. I let myself get lost in it, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the heavy pulse drown out the thoughts threatening to pull me under.

Then the seat beside me shifted, and I knew before even looking who it was.

Victor Blake.

His presence was too sharp, too fucking familiar. He didn’t say anything right away, like he was already regretting sitting down.

“You look like you need a shot,” I muttered, still not looking at him.

He scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “You look like you need a better coping mechanism.”

I smirked, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Pot, meet kettle.”

His eyes were the same—dark, intense, the kind of stare that could flay a person open if he wanted to. He was still built like a damn linebacker, still carried himself like he could ruin someone’s life with a single glare. It appeared that he still wasn’t over what happened with Connor and Summer.

I heard about it—hell, I was invited to their wedding last spring and I got to meet their beautiful baby girl myself.

We drank in silence, not because there was nothing to say, but because neither of us wanted to be the first to say it.

Victor wasn’t going to bring up North. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about my brother.

So instead, we just sat there, two people running from different things, colliding in the same place.

It was more boring than I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong, the company was nice, but I could think of a dozen better things—Actually… I could do a dozen better things, too.

I turned to him, tipping my head slightly. “You looking for a distraction tonight, Vic?”

“Are you?”

“Always.”

We didn’t make it to a bed. Hell, we barely made it to privacy.

The storeroom in the back of the bar was dark, cluttered, too small—but none of it mattered.

Because the second the door clicked shut, Victor had me pinned against it.

His breath was hot against my neck, his hands around my hips.

My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and when our mouths met, it wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet. It was messy and fevered and full of all the things we weren’t saying.

I should’ve stopped. Should’ve told him it was a bad fucking idea. But instead, I pulled him down harder, kissed him deeper, let him drag me under like a riptide.

And Victor? He let me.

Because maybe he was trying to forget something too.

He ripped my shirt over my head, his lips searing against my throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver as he mouthed the outside of my bra—I screamed when he bit down, catching my nipple between his teeth.

Fucking sadist!

His mouth softened, sucking on the silk and me until I gasped, head tilting back against the door, and that was all the invitation he needed. His fingers slid down my spine, nails scraping, possessive and unrelenting as he yanked me against him.

“I should make you beg,” he muttered, voice rough against my skin.

“Should,” I whispered back, defiant even as I arched into him. “But you won’t.”

He growled.

“You’d look pretty on your knees, Evie,” he murmured, his free hand trailing down, fingers reaching up my denim skirt to tease underneath my panties.

His rumble of approval told me he liked how wet my pussy was, and as he dragged his fingers through my swollen folds he muttered, “I should punish you for thinking you can say no to me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say something biting, but then he tore my underwear and glided his fingers back between my legs.

My words vanished in a sharp gasp. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to make me shatter.

This wasn’t the first time, and if history proved right, it wouldn’t be the last either.

My nails scraped against the door as he worked my pussy open. Two fingers thrusting through my wetness. My pussy clenched at the thought. Vic was bigger than any of the other guys, and despite how much of a fucking nerd he was, his dick was pierced as well.

So, him working me? It felt good, but it was fucking necessary too. He’d destroy me if he fucked without it.

I wanted to fight him for it, wanted to push back just to see what he’d do. But then he pulled away entirely, leaving me aching, breathless.

“Ready?” he asked, voice low, deadly.

I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze, my lips curving in a slow, knowing smirk. “Oh, yeah. Fuck my pussy, Vic. Show me you know what to do with a woman’s body.”

He huffed out a laugh, his fingers bruising my hips and fingers digging in like he wanted to brand himself onto my skin. His mouth was everywhere, rough and demanding, tasting me like he was fucking starving. I gasped as he shoved me harder against the door, his knee spreading my thighs apart.

“Beg me for my cock, pretty girl,” he growled, breath hot against my cheek, his hand reaching up to tighten around my throat just enough to make my pulse spike.

My mind softened just like it always did when Vic did that.

His hold was soft, his arm pressed between my breasts as he squashed me up against him.

My back to his front. His dick sliding through my folds, teasing my clit.

It felt fucking amazing. I hated that he brought out the submissive side of me, but he did, and I arched back even while I taunted him in a dry voice. “I don’t think so, Vic. Girls like me don’t beg. So, shut the fuck up and fuck me like you mean it.”

In the silence, I pictured his nostrils flaring like they did when he was annoyed. The thought thrilled me, leaving me pliant when he dug his fingers into my hips and my neck, directing me until I reached over for the nearby shelf.

Then the hand around my neck was pulled away. He yanked my denim skirt out of the way and pressed between my shoulder blades, forcing me to arch for him. A sharp slap cracked across my ass, the sting erotic, electric, making me gasp before I could stop myself.

“Yeah,” he murmured darkly, his fingers still digging into my hip, controlling every inch of me while he spread my legs wider—and thrust. “That’s what I thought.”

He didn’t go easy. He didn’t tease. He just took, filled, stretched me so hard I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Those piercings of his brushed against every nerve inside of me and I shuddered. “F—Fuck,” I gasped, nails clawing at the wood, the pressure coiling hot and tight inside me.

He chuckled darkly, his hold on my throat contracting just enough to remind me who was in control. “That’s right. Take it. Be a good fucking girl and take my cock and if you beg nicely, I’ll even let you come on it.”

I clenched around him, earning another growl, another punishing thrust that sent me careening over the edge. My moan was sharp, raw, swallowed by his palm when he covered my mouth, not letting me scream for him the way I wanted to.

His pace didn’t slow, didn’t let up, driving me into another orgasm before I could catch my breath. He fucked me like he hated me, like he wanted to break me, and I loved every second of it.

Then he slammed in one last time, groaning low as he spilled inside me, his body shaking, fingers still holding me like he couldn’t let go.

For a long moment, we just stood there, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat, reality creeping back in.

Victor finally pulled away, adjusting his clothes, his expression unreadable. I was still panting as he dipped his fingers between my legs and swirled our combined releases around my clit.

Knowing what he wanted, I opened my mouth as he pulled it back out, then pushed his fingers down on my tongue.

No one made me into more of a slut than Victor Blake.

Sucking softly, I tipped my head back and moaned, watching his eyes darken. “Don’t tease me, Evie. You won’t like what you get.”

Snorting, I turned to lean against the shelves, watching him as I caught my breath, a smirk curling my lips. “More sex?” I guessed, giddy from the high.

Victor rolled his eyes as he helped me dress, then held open the door for me to leave. “We’re not talking about this,” he muttered, running a hand over his mouth.

I let out a breathless chuckle. “Never happened.”

But we both knew that was bullshit.