Page 12 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

She eats slowly, clearly paying more attention to me than to her food. Like she’s expecting me to attack her at any moment.

Who are you, Amber Martin? I ask myself—not for the first time.

“Why did you leave the apartment you were living in?” I ask aloud.

“I don’t like staying in the same place for too long.”

“Like a Romani?”

Her cheeks flush and she looks away. “Something like that. I never stay in one city for more than a couple of months.”

“Where’s your family?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant to whatever you have in mind for me,” she says, throwing my own words from the club back at me. She drops her utensils and meets my eyes. “Our deal doesn’t include sex, but it does include getting to know each other?”

“Yes. But this isn’t a relationship.”

“I didn’t think it was. I don’t date.”

It should be a statement that puts me at ease, but instead, I find myself asking, “Why not?”

“For the same reason I just told you. I don’t put down roots. Now, about the time we’re spending together... I’ve changed my mind about not leaving Texas. If you...uh...want to take me somewhere, I’m willing to go.”

“And what brought on this sudden change?”

“Do I have to answer everything?”

“If you want to stay with me, yes.”

“I thought it was the other way around. You said you wanted me around.”

“Don’t test my patience, Amber.”

She stares at her barely touched food. “I don’t want to be alone in Dallas right now. In Texas, actually.”

“Finish eating. I’ll think about it.”

She’s out on the balcony, apparently gazing at the starless sky. I watch her through the glass door.

I know she feels my presence, but she doesn’t turn around.

Normally, I don’t let things move this slowly with a woman, but my mysterious goddess is like a rare vintage wine—I want to savor every drop.

I approach her and place one hand on each side of her on the railing, trapping her against me without touching her.

She doesn’t try to escape. On the contrary, she leans back, the back of her head resting on my chest. Her eyes are closed, as if she’s savoring the moment.

I wrap an arm around her waist, and my other hand covers hers. I run my lips along her right shoulder, nudging the strap of her dress down slightly with my teeth.

“Mmmm . . .” Her ass presses back, teasing me, and like a lightning bolt, a fantasy flashes through my mind: taking her right here, naked, with the cool night breeze brushing her nipples.

She arches her body, surrendering. I grab her face and pull her mouth to mine, devouring her with my tongue.

I run my hand up her thigh until I reach her panties, and with one leg, I part hers. The lingerie is silk, tiny and smooth, no lace, allowing me to feel, even through the fabric, just how hard her clit is.

“You can stop me with a single word—no,” I warn.

Her answer is to spin in my arms, facing me. She pulls me down by the neck and kisses me, desperate. “Make me forget,” she whispers.

“Forget what?”

“Anything but this. I don’t care for how long. Just make me forget.”

I lift her up and sit her on the couch. Her dress hikes up, revealing her panties.

I kneel in front of her.

She’s watching me but doesn’t move. She shivers when I spread her thighs, my hands sliding up the insides of her legs.

I kiss her mouth again, my fingers playing with the soft skin between her thighs.

My hand slides from her hair to her firm breast, and the second my thumb brushes her nipple, she squirms on the couch. I swallow her moan, deepening the kiss.

In one swift move, I peel the dress off her. “I want to see you,” I murmur, even though she made no attempt to stop me.

I cup her breast, rolling the hard peak between my fingers, and her eyes flutter shut. She straightens, her tits close to my face.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, woman.” I take one breast into my mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with my teeth, and feel her body writhe beneath my hands.

Without stopping, I pull down her panties, exposing the feverish heat between her legs.

She spreads wider for me, and a growl escapes my throat. I grab both her ankles and rest them on the edge of the couch.

Her pussy is as stunning as the rest of her. The wet glisten of her arousal short-circuits my brain. I’m a visual man, and having Amber spread open like this for me is destroying any rational thought.

One hand plays with her breast again, and judging by her moans, they’re extra sensitive now. She doesn’t hold back—no more restraint.

I run two fingers along her folds. “So fucking wet.”

She smells fucking amazing.

I lower my head and catch her swollen clit between my teeth. “You want to be eaten so bad, don’t you?” I don’t wait for an answer. I kiss her dripping pussy with my mouth wide open.

She grabs my hair hard—just as desperately as I’m devouring her.

I slide one finger inside to test her and feel her tighten.

I keep going, and she rocks her hips and moans. In and out, gently. She goes wild, lifting her hips. Her hands leave my hair and start tugging at my shirt.

I’ve never been this turned on by foreplay alone. She’s delicious.

Her breathing is uneven, her golden skin flushed with arousal. She gives herself completely, meeting my pace, taking my fingers deep inside her tight body.

I know she’s on the edge—her muscles are starting to spasm.

“You’re gonna come on my tongue.”

“Please . . . I need it . . .”

I rub her clit, teasing the swollen button, my fingers fucking her gently while my tongue licks up her honey. “Tell me what you want, Amber. I want to hear you beg for my tongue in that tight pussy.”

Her lips are swollen from all the sucking. She’s pure perfection—like a pagan goddess. Naughty and undone. “I want to come in your mouth.”

Fuck!

I eat her like a man possessed, my cock hard as steel, aching to replace my mouth and fingers. But the damn control freak in me needs her to fully submit first.

She screams as she comes, and I don’t waste a drop. I drink it all.

When her tremors fade, our eyes lock. I gave her an orgasm, but it felt almost as good as coming myself.

She gasps, looking confused, probably as confused as I am right now. This connection after is not what I want, but it’s not what helps me make my next decision.

I dress her again, not bothering with the panties.

“Good night, Amber.”

I leave the room before I lose control.

I want her too much. I momentarily forgot that she got close to me for a reason I don’t know.

I’ve never been the kind of man to have vices, but I may have just found one.