Page 68 of Unforgivable Sins

I look down to where my dick is punishing her. The sight of her creamy orgasm coating my dick makes my heart soar, released from its heavy anchor. I love making her feel good. I love watching her beautiful face as she comes. I love seeing the proof of her pleasure on my dick.

She regains the use of her voice, we’re both moaning and panting as we add another haunting melody to our playlist. A playlist that will forever torment me in the years, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and every fucking second, that she’s absent from my life. A playlist that will cut and scar me far worse than anything that’s been done to my flesh.

My orgasm rips through me as I sheath myself all the way inside of her. I lean down and rest my forehead on her back as my dick spasms and throbs inside of her. And for this split second, I release all of my fears along with my orgasm. I let go of everything except for the feeling of Wendee in my arms and how good it feels to be wrapped around her and inside of her.

For a split second, life is perfect.

For a split second, I think that maybe I can keep this feeling, keep Wendee, forever.

For a split second.

Dee

Can You Hold Me by NF, Britt Nicole

I’m such a weak piece of shit. I was actually making progress on the balcony, I thought that I’d finally broken through Sinn’s barriers and that he was going to allow me to see him. WRONG! I got as far as he wanted me to get and then he turned the tables on me. I swear, all that man has to do is kiss me and I melt faster than butter in a hot frying pan. I melt and bubble and boil and eventually burn under his touch. Damn, I AM butter and Sinn is the fucking scorching hot, unyielding frying pan.

I know I should hold my ground better. I know I should speak up and demand what I want. But I don’t reallywantto demand anything from him. I want him to give it to me freely. And, as much as Sinn IS a demanding and arrogant control freak, I know he wants the same from me. I know that no matter how hard he tries to be cold and dictating, he’d never take something I wasn’t giving him freely. It’s a silent understanding we have with each other. The only problem is, I’m the fucking butter! I have no chance in hell against him.

Still, I can’t help but be satisfied with the progress we made on the balcony. It’s the furthest he’s ever let me get to seeing him and I’m soooo not complaining. I knew he was all hard muscle under the shirt but seeing it…fucking hell… his skin is golden and beautiful, soft and smooth over chiseled abs and strong pecs. I got a nice glimpse of his devastating V-cut, and the trail of dark hair disappearing into his pants before my eyes caught sight of the scar.

It was nothing more than a thin white line on his skin but it’s almost like my eyes knew where to look to find it. Like I was drawn to it. It was the same type of scar that he has on his forearms, and I have a feeling there are more of them. I think that’s why he’s refused to let me see him. And to be honest, I’ve given up hope that I’ll get to see him in all of his beautiful, Greek God-like body. We’re making progress but progress that’s too slow for the time we have left.

I’ll still continue to push his boundaries, I can’t NOT push him and see how far I can get, but I’m not holding my breath either. I don’t want to push too hard and ruin all the progress Ihavemade. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do when my time is up so we may only have a few days left together and I don’t want them to be wasted. I don’t want to spend them arguing and fighting. So, when he carried me inside and insisted on bathing me again, instead of showering with me like I asked, I let him.

I let him wash my hair. I let him wash my body. I let him dry me off and rub lotion into every inch of my skin. And when he laid me down on his bed, spread my legs wide and devoured me with his skilled mouth and tongue, I let him do that too. Then, I put on one of his large t-shirts that I like to sleep in, climbed under the covers, and that’s where I’m waited patiently for Sinn to shower. Alone.

It doesn’t take him long to shower though, and my eyes greedily take him in as he walks back into the bedroom wearing a long-sleeve black t-shirt and, the kryptonite to any hot-blooded, breathing female…grey sweatpants. The only thing that would make this view better is if he was shirtless and I got to see the sweatpants sitting low on his hips, revealing that sexy as fuck V-cut I got to see earlier leading down to that impressive bulge. Sweet baby Jesus, and just like that, I’m fucking wet again. The motherfucking Angel of Death. Who would have thought?

“Wendee.” His voice is low and husky as he walks toward the bed and pierces me with his deep blue gaze. “You better stop looking at me like that and get those thoughts of yours under control or there will be no sleep.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips. His eyes drop to them, the muscle in his jaw twitches and his nostrils flare as his fists clench at his sides. Fuck. I didn’t mean to rattle the cage and get the beasts attention.

“Sorry,” I murmur, closing my eyes to try and settle my racing heart and liquid fuckinginsides.

I feel the bed dip under his weight as he climbs in and slides to the middle of the bed where I’m waiting for him. He lays on his back and then pulls me into his side tightly. I tuck myself into him, throwing my leg over his and hugging his waist. This position is a new development for us. He’s always been the big spoon, not allowing me to be in a position to touch him, but we woke up in this position the other day and he must have been ok with it because this is the second night, or day rather, that he’s initiated this position. I continue to behave and not push him too hard, keeping my hands still, content to relax in his safe embrace and let him hold me.

I let his body heat sink into my skin, relaxing me further. I inhale his heady scent of soap and leather. Everything about him has always meant safety to me. A feeling I’ve never been fortunate enough to feel in my waking life. Not even as a child.

“Wendee.” His deep voice pulls me out of my tranquil thoughts.

“Hmmmm?” I hum against his chest, not wanting to speak and break this peaceful moment.

“When I found you earlier, asleep on the couch…,” he hesitates for a second, “you were whimpering and calling out for your mom. What were you reliving?”

The mention of it brings my nightmare crashing back into my thoughts. So much for not wanting to disrupt my peacefulness. I feel my body stiffen and my breathing getting heavier at the image of finding my mother. Dead.

“Tell me.” It’s not a demand but a request, and he tightens his hold on me, reminding me that I’m safe.

I’ve never really talked about that moment with anyone other than the police. I mean, I told my sisters obviously, but not in detail, and I never expressed the thoughts that have haunted me the most since that night. If there is ever going to be someone who I want to tell, who I know is asking me because they genuinely want to know every part of me, it’s Sinn.

I sigh. “When I was seventeen, a senior in high school, I played on the volleyball team. Hell, I played every sport and joined every group and activity that I could to keep me busy and away from home.”

“Why?” He asks, softly.

“My mom wasn’t always the…most present mom. She was an addict and the drugs took her away from everything and everyone. I’m the youngest of three and my older sisters had already graduated and left. I was always alone so I kept myself as busy as I could.” I shrug my shoulders. “Anyway, there was a Saturday afternoon game at the other team’s school. We were supposed to be back home by seven o’clock, but the game ran long and then the weather was terrible on our way back. A storm came out of nowhere, delaying us further. We didn’t get home until almost nine. Of course, my mother wasn’t there to pick me up so I had to get a ride from a friend, but when I got home my mom was there and all the lights were on in the house. I just assumed she forgot that I needed a ride. Or maybe, because we were so late, she got tired of waiting at the school. I guess I don’t blame her for not wanting to wait two hours.”

I hesitate as I remember everything that comes next in the memory. It’s one thing to relive the memory in a nightmare, it’s another to voice it out loud but somehow, I manage to keep going.