Page 31 of Sinful Desires (Sinful #4)

He wiped his mouth roughly. “Nothing with you is ever fucking simple.”

“Well, here’s the simpler version,” I said. “I want you to finish what you started.” I reached for him.

His hand snapped out, wrapping around my wrist. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, voice flat and filthy.

“Yes.”

“Thought you’d rather fuck anyone but me.” Then he let go.

My fingers dropped and brushed against the very obvious problem in his pants. He was hard .

I shrugged, barely smiling. “I lied.”

“You do that a lot.”

My palm molded to him like I was built for it.

He let out a low scoff, his gaze dragging down, slow and lazy, to where my hand sat on him. His eyes were half lidded, darker now. Heavy.

“I lie because the truth would fuck us both up.” I looked up at him, fingers still curled around the heat straining in his pants.

“What truth?”

My lips parted. Breath caught. “That you’re the only man who makes me feel this.”

His breath hitched. He masked it as a scoff, but it came out too rough, too close to a groan. “This, what?”

I rose to my toes, lips brushing his jaw. “Alive.”

And that was the worst part.

He’d stormed into my life a year ago, uninvited and unwelcome, and had still managed to make everything pulse again.

Before him, everything had felt numb. My career. My voice. Applause sounded distant. Champagne tasted flat.

I floated through rooms like a ghost wrapped in designer fabric, smiling at flashing lights I couldn’t feel anymore. Fame had given me everything except feeling.

But Théo? He didn’t cheer. He didn’t chase. He looked at me like he saw through every polished lie, and it lit something inside me I’d thought was dead.

Hunger. Anger. Heat.

A low, burning hum beneath my skin that reminded me I still had blood, still had teeth, still wanted.

A long beat passed.

His hand moved between my breasts, fingers dragging slowly over bare skin. Then one slid up and circled my nipple, teasing it until it hardened under his touch.

A moan slipped from my lips.

His hand moved to my throat, palm spreading over the heat there, his fingers slowly curling. “And you,” he said, voice low and rough against my ear, “are the only woman who’s ever made me feel this.” His thumb pressed beneath my jaw, and the pressure made my knees soften.

“This, what?” I whispered.

His lips brushed mine. “ Envouté. ”

I didn’t even get a chance to speak.

His hands grabbed behind my knees and lifted me straight off the floor. His mouth crashed into mine, hard and hungry.

I moaned into it, lips parting wider, tongue sliding against his, messy and wet. I clutched his face, dragging him closer, and scratched my nails down the side of his neck.

My tits were crushed against his vest. The fabric caught on my nipples, cold and heavy while I was burning everywhere else. He hadn’t taken off a single thing. Fully dressed. Still in control.

And I was naked. Spread open in his arms. It was disturbing how much I fucking loved it.

That was the moment I knew.

If he wanted me like this again, completely naked, legs wrapped around his waist, moaning into his mouth—I’d say yes. I’d let him ruin me. Every fucking time. Over and over, as long as he kept touching me.

His hand clamped on my ass as he carried me to the couch. His chest thudded against mine, heartbeat loud, breath ragged. He held me tightly, but his body was shaking.

He dropped down, dragging me with him, my legs straddling him before I could catch my breath.

My lips went for his neck. I sucked hard, teeth grazing skin, my tongue dragging lower. He smelled too fucking good. Clean sweat, spice, and skin I wanted to bite through.

“Stop,” he said.

I didn’t. Couldn’t. I licked up to his jaw, then sucked his bottom lip between mine like it was candy I wasn’t giving back.

“Scarlett.”

I moaned against his mouth.

That was the only warning I got before he fisted the back of my hair and yanked my head back. “You’ll follow my fucking orders. Compris ?”

I nodded, dazed, the ache between my legs turning sharp. My hands dropped to his pants, fingers already working the zipper.

“Get my cock out.” He was breathing hard, chest rising fast like he’d just run ten miles. A line of sweat broke at his temple. His thighs were tense, legs trembling.

I shoved his boxers down and froze. My mouth actually fell open. A breath left me.

“Hell no.”

“Yes.”

“No fucking way.”

“Now, Scarlett.”

I couldn’t close my hand around him. Not even close.

Thick. Heavy. Hot.

My throat dried up. “What did you eat in the military? Steroids for cocks?”

His fingers clamped on my nipples and twisted hard.

I gasped, the pain curling hot between my thighs.

“Ride me.”

I shook my head, breathless. “You want to split me in half?”

Another twist. Deeper this time. Crueler.

“ Now .”

I spat in my palm and wrapped my hand around him, tight and filthy, just to watch his jaw clench. Pre-cum smeared across my fingers. I spread it, teased it, and pumped him once. Twice. His head hit the wall, breath short, gaze dragging down my tits.

I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, letting it fall straight down my back.

He deserved the full view.

I dragged my fingers between my legs, then grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip against my clit.

He jerked under me, cock kicking in my hand, breath hissing through his teeth.

Then came the slap. Brutal. Loud. My ass burned.

“Stop fucking teasing.”

My body jerked. I nodded. I grabbed him again, lined him up, and started to sink. Not even halfway and I was shaking, nails buried in his arms, lips parted, heat crawling up my spine.

“I?…?I can’t.”

His hands grabbed my hips and forced me lower. He was shaking now, thighs trembling, jaw clenched like he was trying not to fall apart in my arms. He looked like a man trying to keep a century of hunger from tearing out of his skin.

“I need to feel you,” he breathed, voice ragged. “All of you, fuck?…?I can’t—” He cut himself off before the desperation cracked his tone completely.

A sound tore from my throat.

“C-Come on, chérie . Almost there.”

“Théo—”

He pulled again.

I shook, drenched in sweat, tears slipping from my eyes as I dropped my forehead to his.

It had been over a year since anyone had fucked me. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was him. Every inch of him.

I couldn’t breathe. My nails dug into his arms. I clenched around him, every nerve on fire, shaking and soaked.

His hands grabbed my hips and forced me lower, but they weren’t steady.

“There you fucking go,” he said, breath ragged, voice wrecked. “Took it all like a good girl.”

I nodded, eyes fluttering shut, tongue sliding over my lips. His hands dragged over my spine while his mouth traced the side of my neck, his tongue wet against my skin.

“When was the last time you had sex?” I whispered, voice raw.

He froze.

His lips stopped just below my ear. “Thirteen years ago.”

I pulled back, hand flat on his shoulder, staring at him. “What?”

“I made the choice to be celibate, Scarlett.”

I let out a scoff and rolled my hips against his pelvis,grinding until I felt his breath catch. “Your cock is deep inside me, soldier. Pretty sure that’s not how celibacy works.”

He slapped my ass, hard enough to echo. I barely had time to moan before he grabbed my hips, yanked me up, and drove me back down on him in one brutal thrust. My head snapped back, a strangled sound clawing its way out of my throat.

He fucked me like a beast that hadn’t eaten in years. Every thrust was a frenzy, raw, unhinged, like his cock was trying to carve itself into my body.

His whole body shook, soaked in sweat, teeth clenched like he was one second from blacking out. He groaned deep in his chest, hips snapping hard, rough. Too much, yet not enough.

His eyes were dark and glassy. And that’s how I knew he wasn’t lying.

“I have just broken a vow because of you, Scarlett,” he growled, his voice right at my ear, rough and mean. “You better fucking apologize to me.”

I smirked, eyes half lidded. “Hmm?…?want me to say sorry later while you fuck my throat? Might not get the words out, but you’ll feel it.”

He chuckled darkly.

I bounced without rhythm, meeting his thrusts without control, tits slamming into his vest, thighs burning, fingers gripping his shoulders to keep from falling apart. My head tipped back, mouth open.

He was too big. It was almost unbearable.

His grip tightened and he pulled me down harder.

“ Tout ca c’est de ta putain de faute ,” he groaned, voice guttural, a filthy whimper escaping him as sweat rolled down his jaw. “Thirteen fucking years. Gone. Burned because of you.”

He sounded possessed, breath catching with every thrust, and he still held me like he’d never let go.

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Just moaned, low and broken, my body twitching every time he bottomed out. I was dripping down his thighs, my cunt clenching, brain gone. He fucked like he wanted to leave bruises inside me.

And I wanted every single one.

“I was fine. I had control. Then you fucking showed up with that pretty mouth and that perfect ass and ruined everything .”

He grabbed my ass and shoved me down into the couch cushions, his weight crashing into mine. My hands were pinned above my head with one hand, his other wrapped around my throat.

“ T’aimes ca, hein, ma petite salope ?” he growled into my ear, every syllable soaked in heat and hatred. “Watching me lose my fucking mind? Look what you do to me.”

I flinched, trying to pull away, but his hand locked tighter.

Then his mouth crashed into mine, teeth biting down on my bottom lip so hard I whimpered, tongue sweeping after to soothe it.

It was too much. His hands. His voice. That filthy French pouring out of his mouth, low and mean. It didn’t matter what dirty thing he’d said—I felt it in every bite, every kiss.

“T-Théo—” My body locked and seized so hard I saw stars burst behind my eyes. My back arched off the cushions, hands clawing at the couch, eyes wide.

I didn’t even know what I was saying. Just sounds, curses, and his name.

He didn’t stop. His mouth moved lower, lips dragging over my tits, tongue sliding across sweat-slick skin before he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth. Then he bit down. Hard.

A second later, he pulled out and came all over my stomach, breath ragged, cock still twitching. His eyes locked on mine, and I waited for it. The regret. The part where he got up, zipped up, and pretended none of it had ever happened.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he cupped my face like I might disappear, then kissed me slowly.

“Thirteen years of hell,” he whispered against my lips, “just to find heaven in you.”