Page 45 of Liberated By Sin
My pussy still throbbed, and deep down, as terrifying as it seemed, I’d give anything to fall back asleep and meet him in a world where I was safe, one where I’d get to taste an ounce of bliss, even if just for a night.
Just one night.
Before I could overthink, I slid my hand under the sheet and between my thighs, closing my eyes when I slipped my fingers into my panties. Maybe he’d been just a figment of my delusions, but to my body, it was real, and I’d responded accordingly. Tentative touches accelerated the beating of my heart.
“Santi,” I whined into the dark as my fingertips shifted into slowstrokes, imagining his hand instead of mine and his lips on my neck.
He’d whisperpreziosaclose to my ear and not only tell me I was beautiful but make me feel it by kissing every inch, even my scars.
“Just like that.” I thrust my hips, coating my fingers with my arousal and groaning as I rubbed circles over my clit. “Fuck.”
My thighs spread wider, lip trapped between my teeth as I climbed higher, and the pleasure rolled through me until I felt the urge to scream. Snatching my pillow, head bouncing on the mattress, I smothered my cries as I fell over the edge with Santino’s name in my throat.
For five minutes straight, I stared at the ceiling, my mind blank but racing all at once. I didn’t want to think, to dwell on what this all meant, so I shot up and into the bathroom. In another ten minutes, I was out the door, walking past a half-sleeping Phoenix, who propped her head when I grabbed my black bag and headed for the door.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be back.”
Bells jingled above my head when I crossed the threshold of The Veil, a bar two blocks from my building. With roughly two dozen patrons, the place was relatively empty for a Friday night in Miami. Most crowded around the bar, while a scant few busied themselves by the pool tables and TVs.
I sat in a far corner, my back to the wall, and ordered a water. The bartender was an older woman with a blonde bob and a sweet smile who eyed me curiously at my choice of drink but happily obliged, sliding the glass across the counter.
“Let me know if you want something with a little more kick. You look like you could use the good kind of amnesia.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged, absently wiping a wet spot with a rag before stuffing it into her back pocket. “You just look like you got a lot on your mind.”
“Don’t we all?” I said with a sigh.
“True. But I knowthatlook. Relationship trouble.”
Was I that obvious? Was my face still flushed from my orgasm?
“I’m not in a relationship.”
“Broke up?”
“No, I—”
“You want to be in one?”
I blinked rapidly at her intrusive questions. “That’s…not it.”
“Sure,” she said with a wink. “You know, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t stress over a man or woman.”
If she knew the extent of shit I stressed about, she’d be jumping over the bar and sprinting out the door. I brought the glass to my lips and chugged my water, hoping to deter more conversation. But Stacia, according to the badge clipped to her belt loop, was relentless.
“I’ve never seen you around here. And I don’t forget a face, much less one like yours and those pretty eyes. You live in the city?”
Stacia reminded me of a neighbor of my mother’s back in Rio—a kind woman with too much time on her hands and just as many stories. But as she began to ramble on some more, I noticed a man across the way. He had slick hands like those of a magician. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t quick enough, and I caught when he dropped a powdery substance into the drink across from him. I didn’t see his companion, but I could only assume he’d waited until they were out of sight.
Adding another waste of skin to my tally hadn’t been on my plans tonight. Nevertheless, I was always prepared. Squeezing the strap on my bag, I shifted to my feet. Stacia paused her monologue, and I felt her eyes on me as I moved toward the man whose cock would harden for the last time tonight—well, if one didn’t count rigor mortis.
As ungracefully as I could muster, I tripped over my own feet and crashed into his table, ensuring to strategically tip the drink in his direction. The special cocktail dripped onto his lap, and he shot to his feet.
“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry!” I cried, putting on my best damsel act.
“Shit.” He shook off his pant leg as droplets hit the floor.