Sinners of Saint 04 - Scandalous

  She looked up, fear and lust swimming in her pupils, their bottomless depth luring me to jump in.

  “Again,” she breathed, her pulse quickening under my palm. I felt her body moving against mine, even though we didn’t touch, and fuck, this wasn’t good news for my cock.

  Defrosting. She was getting warmer.

  Not breaking eye contact, I brushed my thumb against her nipple again. She groaned, lifting her arms to touch me. I took a step back and tsked.

  “It’s not fair that you’re the only one to have fun,” she groaned in frustration, her body still tilted toward mine.

  I arched an eyebrow. “You think it’s going to be fun to go back home with blue balls?”

  “They don’t have to be blue.”

  “Unfortunately for me, they do.”

  “Your funeral.”

  “The things I want to do to you…” I trailed off, exhaling my hot breath on her cold skin, “will undo you.”

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Again.”

  I was going to hell for this, but I flicked my thumb against her right nipple for the third time, watching her hips roll to chase something that wasn’t there. I wasn’t close enough for her to rub against me, and not because I didn’t want to be. If we got close, I’d lose control. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not when so much was at stake.

  “Again,” she moaned.

  I did it again.

  “Again…and again and again and again.”

  I used my thumb and forefinger to rub her right nipple through her bikini, watching her throw her head back, her mouth falling open in pleasure. I leaned against her without meaning to, just an inch. Then another inch, when her hard nipple got so tight and sensitive, I found myself twisting it a little to amplify her pleasure. I wanted to get her off so bad, but somehow, taking her in both hands and claiming her felt too final. A point of no return.

  “How can it feel this good?” she nearly protested, reaching with her hand to touch me again. I moved away quickly, still playing with her tit.

  “Because it’s different when you’re in the hands of a man.”

  “Show me.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Please,” she purred, and this time she managed to glide her bikini-ed groin over my training shorts. Fuck, I wasn’t sure if it was the ocean or her, but something there was damp.

  That’s when I lost it.

  I closed the distance between us, allowing her to grind on me freely, like I was a fucking stripper pole, while playing with both her tits, watching her as my dick grew impossibly hard. Already, the strain in my balls felt like too much. I‘m not much of a foreplay guy, but here I was getting hot slowly and steadily, being led by the fucking cock to something that wouldn’t materialize.

  “I’m coming,” she said, her legs clenching around my thigh. My cock poked at her inner thigh, and she knew it, because she goddamn rubbed against it even more, the friction making a little pre-cum leak. It made my crown stick to my briefs and this really was getting out of control.

  “Tell me why you need twelve thousand dollars a month, and I will let you,” I hissed in her face, careful to leave enough space for her not to try to kiss me. She whimpered, riding my thigh like a fucking rodeo, rubbing her clit on my quad, her eyes shut. She was inside the moment, in a bubble, and didn’t want me to burst it.

  “Answer me, now.”

  “Trent…”

  “Who is giving you trouble?” Who the fuck am I going to need to end? “Why do you need to come up with this kind of money?”

  Nothing.

  She was getting close. Her thighs were quivering, and now I knew it wasn’t the fucking ocean. It was her. “Spit it out.”

  “No.”

  “Edie.”

  “No.”

  I withdrew from her in a hot second, leaving her to fall to the sand, panting and aroused. Her hair was all over her face, her bikini bottoms had a small spot of arousal and her nipples were so hard she could probably cut me to a bleeding point with them.

  I frowned. “One last chance, Edie.”

  But she knew as well as I did that the moment was gone. I couldn’t touch her after this. After breaking that drunken spell. My cock was still pointing at her furiously, demanding her attention, but my mind was starting to catch up with reality.

  “Fuck you,” she said, again, just as she had when I’d caught her stealing.

  “Not happening,” I said, again.

  “Maybe next time.” She laughed, getting up from the sand and walking over to her backpack, retrieving her earbuds, hoodie, and shorts.

  I smirked, turning my back on her, making sure I was loud and clear. “Cling to the memory of dry-humping me, Van Der Zee, because that’s where it ends.”

  THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THAT morning that had felt rotten even before I opened my eyes. My intuition proved to be right as I walked into the kitchen to find my mother crawling on the floor, gathering bits and pieces of…what? What in the world was she holding? It fell between her fingers, like molten gold.

  Hair.

  It was her hair. My eyes darted from the floor to her.

  My mother had cut it all off.

  Every inch of wispy blonde hair was gone. The lonely patches of yellow hung from her skull reluctantly, uneven in shape and length. Her eyes were red. And the blonde beautiful hair she took pride in…it was everywhere.

  “I need it back.” She snapped her head up to look at me. “Oh, God, Edie. What have I done? Now he’ll never want me. I just…I need to fix this.”

  I made her tea. Shoved her pills down her throat. Told her I would get it all fixed, even though we both knew there was nothing I could do. Then it was time for me to face the music and her husband.

  I stood at the front door, my father outside, his monstrous Range Rover already purring. He stuck his head through his window, obviously annoyed at how his driver had called in sick that morning and now he had to do the journey from Todos Santos to Los Angeles using his precious hands and holy feet. My car was still at the shop so it made sense to carpool, even though the idea of spending time with him in a confined space sent uncomfortable shivers up my spine.

  “Come on, Edie. It’s time to go,” he barked.

  “Mom,” I said, gripping at the doorframe and feeling myself losing balance, “do you need me to stay with you today? Please be honest, because I will. I totally will.” She was getting worse. So much worse. But not as bad as she’d been when she’d been hospitalized for a year because she’d completely lost it and tried to slit her wrists. She didn’t cut too deep, fortunately, which meant I wasn’t orphaned at the age of twelve. But I still remember what my father had told her two months after she got back home from the rehabilitation center.

  “Can’t even end your own life properly, can you, Lydia?” he’d huffed, shaking his head as he zipped up his suitcase, no doubt on his way to another mistress. “Next time let me know if you need any assistance.”

  I wasn’t sure when exactly my father had started despising my mom, but I knew it had to do with the fact he couldn’t leave her, with her current mental state, if he ever wanted to get into politics. What was even more confusing to me was the love my mother still felt for him. Though I wasn’t sure whether it was love, a habit, or simply a crippling fear of being alone.

  Back in reality, my mother huffed, her chin resting on her shoulder, her back to me.

  “No, I don’t need you, Edie.”

  “Are you sure?” I pressed. I knew she’d ignore my existence altogether if I stayed without permission.

  “Edie! We’re going to be late. I have a meeting at ten. Drag your butt over here before I let you walk all the way,” my father boomed behind me. I ignored him.

  “Positive. Your dad wants you to go. Just go.”

  I didn’t even ask her what had happened to planning a vacation and getting better. She’d probably quit her meds and was now on a nasty downward spiral, spinning out of control all the way to rock bottom.


  “Okay. I’ll keep my phone on.” I waved the device in the air.

  “Thank you, sweetie. When you come home, can you…can you help me with my hair?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Keep an eye on your dad.”

  There was no need to elaborate. I knew what she meant.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, darling girl.”

  And I believed her, because Lydia Van Der Zee wasn’t a bad person.

  She was just a bad mom.

  To do list: attain flash drive.

  I couldn’t let Jordan send Theo off somewhere on the East Coast. I couldn’t.

  And that’s the thought that drove me on that Monday when I fetched people their coffee, made dry cleaning runs, did other people’s children’s summer school homework, held a whiteboard up for twenty minutes straight while the maintenance guy tried figuring out why it had fallen from a wall in one of the meeting rooms, and grabbed Jordan’s mail.

  The mail room was my favorite place in the building.

  It was situated on the fourteenth floor and was deserted of people. The PA’s used to pick up mail every day at four p.m. Any other time, it was just the envelopes and me. And even though I could see the cameras wired all over the place (Fiscal Heights Holdings dealt with sensitive contracts and packages), I still felt alone there.

  It wasn’t the ocean, but it was good enough.

  I leaned against an industrial printer, exchanging text messages with Bane and burning time. No one needed me for another hour or so, and I couldn’t stand all the suits and pencil skirts roaming the fifteenth floor. They thought what they were doing was so important. I called bullshit. They didn’t save lives. They didn’t teach kids how to read. They didn’t build houses, fix broken cars, or produce food, electricity, clean water, life. They just made rich people richer, or less rich, if they were doing a terrible job. They made corporate companies stronger or weaker. It was the adult version of ToyLand, and it bored me to death.

  Bane

  So when the fuck are you going to drag your ass to the beach?

  Me

  Things are busy right now. Just trying to keep afloat tbh.

  Bane

  That’s the point of surfing, smartass.

  Me

  What’s up with you?

  Bane

  I’m buying a houseboat.

  Me

  GTFO

  Bane

  Me

  Does that mean that you’ll finally let people come over to your place? I’ve never been to your house. You’re always so secretive.

  Bane

  Yeah, that means I can ride you somewhere private from now on. The perks of being a boat owner.

  About that.

  I should have probably told Bane we weren’t going to have sex anytime soon, or maybe ever again. It wasn’t because of what Trent had told me. No. I’d really meant it when I’d said that I wasn’t going to take any orders from him. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that I could sleep with Bane anymore.

  Trent was on my mind. He invaded my brain, occupying more and more space there, nudging aside all the things that used to inhabit me, to the point of madness. I thumbed the neckline of the black dress I’d borrowed from my mother’s closet, getting ready to text Bane back, when the sound of a closing door made me snap to attention. I twisted my head and saw Trent standing there, his shoulder leaning against one wall.

  Hands in pockets. Dark navy suit. The eyes of a predator. Delicious.

  Our encounter yesterday had left me aching for more, but it also buggered my mind that he’d gone that far. It made me wonder how much more I could get him to do with me. I clutched my phone, arching an eyebrow.

  “Are you stalking me, Mr. Rexroth?”

  “Are you complaining, Miss Van Der Zee?”

  Never. But I’m not sure I’ll get out of this alive once you find out just how bad I am going to hurt you.

  “Undecided yet. Depends on whether you’re in the mood to be a jackass today.” I pretended to examine my nails. My heart drummed so fast and hard, it threatened to shatter my ribcage. He looked, walked, talked, and moved like a flawless demon. It both scared and thrilled me at the same time. Trent stopped when his body was next to mine. When everything ceased to exist but us, and we were alone in the world. My breathing was ragged, and it became painfully difficult to look at him without rolling my eyes and giving in to his powerful scent.

  “I love the color black on you.” He raised his hand, seemingly to brush a lock of hair away from my face. I wondered if he knew what he’d said, because it sure as hell was obvious that he had meant it.

  “What are you doing here? Rina gets your mail every day,” I said quietly, staring at his pecs, not his eyes.

  “I saw you on the CCTV.”

  “And?”

  “And I wanted you alone.”

  “Why?” I licked my lips. Why did he want me alone? He was nothing but rude and arrogant toward me, unless Luna was involved. I reached for my seashell necklace and clutched it like it was expensive pearls. His gaze followed my hand. He unwrapped my fingers from it and took it in his hand, examining the shell.

  “Why did you want me alone? You say you can’t touch me, but you almost do. All the time. Last night, you lost control. Tomorrow, you will do it again, because we can’t stop this. Whatever it is, it is happening. You tell me I can’t sleep with other people, but you don’t give me what I need. Give it to me, Trent, or I will find it elsewhere.” I couldn’t believe those words left my mouth, but at the same time, was relieved they had. His thigh pressed against mine and my back was firmly pressed against the printer. Now his hand moved away from the necklace, his thumb brushing my collarbone.

  “I should warn you, Edie. I’m not the prince in this fairy tale. I’m the villain. The poisonous apple, the flame-breathing monster.”

  “Good. I always enjoyed the broken in the fairy tales better. The apple always looked shinier because I knew it could destroy me. The villain was just damaged and misunderstood, and the monster…” I leaned on my tiptoes, biting the tip of his ear, just barely reaching his impossible height. “I always kept the door to my closet a little ajar as a kid to make sure it could come out in case it wanted to play.”

  His breath skated on my neck, hot and wanting and deliriously fresh. “The monster wants to play.”

  “And I’m not scared of the dark,” I retorted. “So what are we waiting for?”

  “Frankly, for you to be legal,” he deadpanned.

  “I turned eighteen in January.”

  Pause. Tick of an overhead clock. A loud swallow—I wasn’t even sure if it was me or him. And then…

  “There will be rules,” Trent informed me, pulling away to cup my cheek and look into my eyes. “And if you break them, the consequences will be grave. Do you understand?”

  My eyes dared him to continue. I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of answering him. He moved away, walking out of the room. He left me there for several minutes—standing, waiting, hoping, begging. I looked up, watching the cameras in the room die off, one by one, the red dots disappearing. Then the door creaked again, Trent reappeared—was the security panel even on this floor?—and walked back over to me.

  “I don’t kiss. I fucking hate it. I don’t do relationships—my life does not allow for it right now. And I don’t like when people try to stab my back.”

  A thin smile found my lips when he reclaimed his position, almost on top of me. “Gotcha. Pretty Woman. No kissing. No flowers. No stabbing. I have rules, too,” I said.

  “Of course, you do,” he humored me, his hand skimming to my neck. “Let’s hear them.”

  I hooked my leg over his thigh and leaned back on the printer, feeling his erection digging into my stomach, and moaned my answer. “Rule one—it’s just sex, nothing more, so you don’t get to boss me around about what I do separate from this. Rule two—no Saturdays. It’s non-negotiable. I have somewhere to
be on Saturdays. Rule three…” With this one, I got a little creative. I’d only had two in mind, but it gave me an excuse to demand what I’d silently prayed for. “I want you to go with Luna to those sign language classes.”

  “Already booked us a private lesson for tomorrow evening.” He hoisted my leg against him, his self-control hanging by the thread. “There’s a fourth rule,” he informed me.

  “Fine, but it’s the last one.” I grinned against him as his palm dragged up under my dress.

  “I’m going to give you the twelve thousand dollars a month, no questions asked, and in return, you will stop stealing shit from me and sniffing around my business.”

  I froze. He knew about the iPad. About my little mission. Why hadn’t he said anything until now? Even now, he was just implying. I wanted to keep it that way. The less I knew, the more I could shrug off later when it came to bite me in the ass. And I did absolutely need to keep giving Jordan dirt on Trent. It wasn’t personal against the handsome devil in front of me. It was about saving the only person who’d ever really loved me.

  “You’re not going to pay for the…” I started, but Trent slammed his groin into mine in one thrust, causing my back to arch and my legs to spread and curl around him, clinging to his waist like poison ivy. I was dripping and ready for him to finally claim me.

  “Shut up, Edie. I said no arguing. This is one of the rules.”

  “I’m not going to stop.” I swallowed hard, refusing to look him in the eye. “You should know now, Trent. I’m always going to do whatever Jordan tells me to. Not because I like him. Not because I’m scared of him. But because he has something I need. I will always obey him, Trent. Always.”

  For a moment, it looked like he was going to pull away. Everything about his posture said it. His hand stopped sliding up my thigh, invading my flesh, riding up my dress, and his body pulled away, the heat from him subsiding.

  “You do know what it means, right?” I cleared my throat. I may have been a thief, and a liar, but I wasn’t a jerk. I needed him to know. To acknowledge what we were. His hand resumed its journey to my inner thigh, his swollen cock pressing against me.