Scandalous (Sinners of Saint Book 4)

  “It means”—his teeth dragged along my neck—“that what we are to each other is potential sacrifices. As long as you know I will throw you under the train if you mess with my plans, I’m good.”

  I swallowed. “I’m good, too.”

  “Let’s have some fun then.”

  And that was all the preparation he gave me before shoving his hand inside my panties. His strong, warm fingers stroked my folds gently, as if soothing them, preparing for whatever he was going to give me.

  “One last warning,” he said, his hot tongue making its first appearance, licking a trail of tantalizing desire up the side of my neck, making me shiver violently. “I fuck rough.” He shoved one finger into me and I arched my back, gasping from the sudden penetration. “Deep-throating is a requirement, not an option”—he shoved a second finger into me—“and I’m about to fucking ruin you for any other man. So when the time comes and no one else can compare to me, just remember—you asked for it.”

  Third finger.

  Fourth finger.

  Jesus Christ, this man had four fingers inside me and he thrust them in and out. His thumb rubbed my clit—which he found in record time—while he played with me with little regard to the fact this was the first time we’d properly touched each other and we hadn’t even kissed. I hooked one arm around his neck and ground my core against his hand, moan after moan escaping from my mouth. My lips felt naked, in contrast with the fullness between my legs. I was riding his hand shamelessly, our eyes locked. My core tightened and the buildup to orgasm was quicker than I’d ever felt it. I wanted to cup him in his pants but knew he would never let me.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to come,” I panted, knowing I sounded like a cheap porn star but not really caring. This was…what the hell was it? I’d never had a man enter me so roughly and boldly, and we weren’t even having sex. He acted like he already knew my body, like he owned it. Worst part was, I couldn’t argue with that notion. I usually took a long time to get off with a partner. Trent had managed to get me soaked, moaning, and chasing his touch after less than two minutes.

  He smirked. “Check you out, wet as a fucking lake.”

  He withdrew one finger…two. What the hell was he doing? The sense of loss was immediate, but that was before I realized he wasn’t slowing down. He was setting me on fire.

  “Hello, Edie’s G-spot,” he murmured into my ear, rubbing the spot furiously. I think I had a mini-orgasm just having him do that to me. I groaned loudly when his fingers curled inside me, rubbing at the sensitive place. “I’ve a feeling you and I are going to see a shit-ton of each other.”

  “Ohhh.” I arched and slithered to bite his exposed neck, tasting the bitterness of his fragrance on my tongue and teeth. “This is insane.”

  “Why does he call you Gidget?” Trent asked, strumming on every nerve in my body like a violinist. A hot wave of pleasure was brewing in me, ready to crash. My toes curled.

  “Huh?”

  “Bane. He calls you Gidget. Why?”

  “Why are we talking about Bane?” My annoyance almost caught up with my tone. Almost. I knew Trent. He was a stubborn jerk. He wasn’t going to back off. If anything, he was going to deny me another orgasm, and this time I was going to kill him for it. No one in the world other than Jesus Christ himself was going to deny me this orgasm. Especially not some rich jackass in a suit—someone I’d promised myself I’d never be associated with in the first place.

  “Gidget is a term for a small female surfer,” I bit out, as his fingers started slamming into my G-spot brutally. He was relentless. True, Trent didn’t kiss me, but his whole body did. It was glued to mine, and I felt him everywhere. The orgasm claimed me like a storm, starting from the bottom and working its way up until every hair on my arms stood on end. I clutched his broad, muscular shoulders and squeezed his waist between my thighs, the intensity of my climax momentarily blinding me.

  But he wasn’t done.

  Trent grabbed the back of my knees and raised me flat on the printer, my back against a warm stack of papers. He spread my legs wide, throwing them over his shoulders and nudged my panties aside, not even bothering to remove them.

  “What are you doing?” I murmured, horrified. I was still coming down from the high. It was difficult to find my footing when every organ and system in my body was still busy recovering from what might have been the most brutal orgasm I ever experienced.

  He didn’t answer me. Just stared intently at my bare pussy, slowly pushing his forefinger into me. He then pulled it away, coated with my lust and wetness, and sucked on it hungrily, his eyes still dead on my pussy.

  “I ask myself the same fucking question every time I touch you,” he muttered to himself.

  He didn’t look horny. Or delighted. Or turned on. But disturbed.

  My already cherry cheeks reddened further. He’d shoved his whole hand into me less than five minutes ago after blatantly breaking the company rules by shutting down the security system on one of the most sensitive floors in the building, and he was bothered by this?

  “You just fingered a teenager to orgasm.” I licked my lips, taking control and nudging his hand away from my pussy. I yanked my underwear back in place and jumped down from the printer. My panties were soaked and uncomfortable.

  He matched my steps easily as we walked to the door. Before we got out, he switched the cameras back on and punched his phone screen a few times. “Joe? Yeah, Trent Rexroth. I think the CCTV system shut down on the fourteenth. Need you to check it. I just passed by the security monitor and saw that it was blank.”

  Oh, God. He was such a sociopath. And I was in so much trouble.

  We walked to the elevator together.

  “You go first.” He shoved his phone into his front pocket, his cool tone and fuck-everyone attitude on full display now.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, walking into the open elevator.

  As the doors started sliding shut, he said, “I’m going to jerk off until my dick falls off. With you in my mind, on my fingers, and my lips, Edie. Teenager or not, you’re about to do a lot of grown-up stuff with me.”

  SEVEN DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE the mail room incident. A whole week without Trent’s hands on my waist, spreading my legs, twisting my hair, claiming my body in ways I hadn’t known were even possible. After that Monday, I’d spent all Tuesday with Camila and Luna. Jordan seemed content with this arrangement, immediately reading between the lines and wanting in on the conspiracy. We girls went shopping for clothes for Luna, and even though Camila cringed at the girl’s tomboy tendencies, I was actually pretty impressed with Luna’s individualism and encouraged her to try on the silver Converse she eyed with a smile or those little black jeans that were ripped at the knees. Trent couldn’t meet us, not even for lunch, because he was in meetings all day out of the office. The thought of waltzing into his office after I came back from my time with Camila and Luna occurred to me, but I dropped the idea, knowing for a fact now that he had cameras around the place. And it wasn’t just that—it was also the guilt. The nagging, awful guilt that told me there should be a separation between when I hung out with his beautiful daughter and when I let him finger me until I reached ecstasy…to when I stole from him, handing my findings to my father.

  The week had dragged. Trent hadn’t said a word to me—not even good morning when he passed me in the hallway. He ignored me completely, making it a point to act like I wasn’t there.

  Mom hadn’t left her bed more than twice, including over the weekend. I had to cook and bring her meals to her upstairs. We hadn’t had a cook for years because Mom had once accused one of trying to poison her. And from there onward, we’d decided there was no point. Jordan ate out, Mom was usually in bed all day—and barely ate—and I wasn’t a picky eater. I tried to get her to see Dr. Knaus, but she rejected the idea again and again, until I had to call my father and beg him to reason with her. He barked at me that he didn’t have time for her dramatics and that he was on his way to LAX,
catching another flight, this time to London.

  My car was still in the shop. The mechanic said I needed to replace the cylinder, and when I asked him for the price, I almost fainted. I couldn’t pay it, not that month, so I just asked if he could keep the car until I got my paycheck. All the money Trent had given me had gone to where it was supposed to, after all. And I never took anything from my parents—not their money, not their cars, not their love, mostly because those things were never offered.

  On the flip side, my father wasn’t around, so I could come to work at nine a.m. like a sane person, which gave me surfing time again.

  I was lying flat with my back on my surfboard, still water around me, watching the sky growing brighter with every passing second. The orange and pink gave way to the white and blue. I was floating, staring, dreaming, the taste of the ocean on my lips. From the day I was born, I knew I had a salty soul. I knew I loved differently. More violently. Everything I’d ever loved. That’s what got me into so much trouble in the first place. The sheer obsession I had with everything I cared about.

  “Are you coming out, Gidget? I’ve got beer,” Bane said beside me.

  Close, but not close enough to break my spell with nature. I blinked once at the rising sun.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  The sound of water moving filled my ears before he appeared next to me on his black surfboard. He was straddling it, both feet slung in the water.

  “So. You and Rexroth.” There was no particular tone to his voice. He didn’t sound mad or annoyed or even surprised. I refused to look at him, still enjoying the intimate moment with the rising sun.

  “How do you know his name?” I murmured.

  “How do I know Trent Rexroth’s name? Did you go to your own high school in the last four years before graduating? He was quarterback legend douchebag schmuck, blah blah fucking football captain blah. As soon as I saw his face that Saturday I knew who he was. Do you know what he is?”

  I had a feeling Bane wasn’t waiting for my permission to spit it out.

  “Old. Fucking ancient, more like. Are you guys bumping uglies?”

  A little smile found my lips. “No.”

  The half-truth came naturally to me. Like swimming. The thought of telling Bane the full-truth never even occurred to me. We were done, with me having little time for surfing and for him, and with him getting a boat and living the single life, no doubt. We had never been in love. We were barely even in like. We were just…bored. And sexually compatible, I think.

  He sighed. “Look, it’s your life, and not only are you old enough to make your choices, you’re also one hell of a strong girl. So let me just leave it at this, and you’ll never hear me saying shit about it ever again—Trent Rexroth is trouble. He will chew you up and spit you out if he needs to. Make sure he doesn’t need to, because the whole town knows him and his friends and there’s a reason why they keep to themselves. No one else is willing to get close enough to burn.”

  Bane left shortly after that. I stayed longer, smiling when my mother’s words echoed in my skull. Stop staying outside so much. Your freckles are coming out. Your skin will get old. What man would want to marry a twenty-five-year-old with a forty-five-year-old complexion?

  I didn’t want to get married.

  I didn’t want to stay away from the sun.

  I simply wanted to…be.

  When I got out of the water, my surfboard tucked under my armpit, I walked straight to my backpack. Not bothering to change or dry off, my feet still bare and coated with sand, I walked up to the promenade where I was going to take Bane’s car back home for a quick shower and then work. Bane liked to park his 2008 Ford Ranger on a little dune uphill where no one could slap him with a parking ticket for not feeding the meter. I rummaged in my bag for the spare keys he’d given me when a heavy hand found my shoulder. I spun around, wet and frightened, to see who it was, but the person slammed my stomach into Bane’s car and glued their body to mine. Strong, tall, muscular, terrifying. Then his scent crawled into my nostrils, making my thighs quiver.

  “I thought we’d agreed on no more Bane,” he hissed into my ear, his hand snaking down my waist and to my inner thigh. The dune was far away from civilization and the need to spread my legs for him was urgent and wild.

  “Not that it’s your business, but we aren’t having sex. He is just lending me his ride until mine gets fixed.”

  “Fuck no. You’ll be taking my spare car.” He squeezed my inner thigh, licking the salt from my neck.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Sugar Daddy. I’ve seen that movie. I watch it every goddamn day. I’m not going to become my mother, and I’m not going to depend on you for rides and money.”

  This made him laugh and withdraw his hand from my thigh, spinning me in place. Upon the first gaze at him, my breath got knocked out of my lungs. Not only was he breathtakingly gorgeous, shirtless, and wearing running shorts, but his eyes told me he was going to kill someone if his orders weren’t followed.

  His six-pack was the kind of glorious that needed a Times Square billboard to celebrate it.

  “Is that what you think this is?” One side of his mouth pulled into half a smirk as he tsked. “Oh, I’m not your boyfriend, sweetheart.”

  “Then what are you?” I gulped.

  He leaned closer to me, whispering to the crook of my neck, “Your undoing.”

  Then, before I knew what was happening, the door to Bane’s back seat popped open and I was thrown onto it, on my back, with him climbing on top of me. He filled the space, leaving no room for anything else but lust and desire and sin. He ground himself against me and I felt his huge erection. I accommodated it by spreading my legs as far as I could in the small space, cupping his ass cheeks and bringing him to me.

  I moaned, scraping at his bare, sweaty back as his cock speared my stomach, making me go crazy, slinking and sliding uncomfortably just to get more of his touch. He was dry-fucking me in my ex-boyfriend’s car, and it wasn’t by accident. This was how he operated. He claimed his toy, played with it, and after a while—destroyed it.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, feeling the friction between us heating my skin. My body was begging for the barriers between us to disappear. I needed him inside me.

  “Why am I doing what?”

  “Why are you making this stupid point in Bane’s car? You clearly followed me here. Have you done this every morning this week?”

  “Yes,” he said honestly, rising up on his forearms to pull my bikini bottoms down. He stared at my slit again, like he’d missed it. At my black cross tattoo across my hipbone, rubbing his thumb on it absentmindedly. “But the time wasn’t right. We can’t get caught.”

  “I know. We won’t,” I said. We both had too much to lose. Me more than him, but he didn’t have to know that. I loved how Trent made me feel, but I wouldn’t trust him with my hair straightener, let alone my secret. I didn’t want him to have any more leverage on me.

  He lifted both my legs to rest against his shoulders and leaned forward, making my hamstrings stretch and my legs spread wide as he moved his tongue from my ass all the way up my folds. I trembled, my eyes widening in shock and pleasure. No one had ever touched that part of me. The backdoor part. And Trent…he hadn’t even asked for permission.

  “So fucking sweet,” he growled into my soft skin, sucking on my clit. I whimpered, clutching his head in both my hands and raising my hips to his lips to get more of this heady feeling. “So fucking mine.”

  “Sweet? Maybe. Yours? No,” I panted, rubbing myself against his face shamelessly as he took his sweet time sucking my clit leisurely, his fingers brushing against my slit but never really penetrating. He was just playing with my arousal at this point, rubbing it against my entrance like he was building for something more.

  “Care to test that theory?” He bit at the flesh of my folds, and my fingers squeezed his temples as I rolled my head back, my eyes shut, feeling drool pooling in my mouth. What the hell was happening?
/>
  “Sure,” I managed. Barely.

  His wet finger traveled along my pussy and toward my ass, and I instantly clenched there, but didn’t want to be the chicken to pull away before he tried anything. Plus, his mouth devouring me was the best thing to ever happen to my body since surfing.

  “Ever tried anal?” he asked. His finger prodded at my hole, drawing lazy circles around it. It felt…funny, but not bad. It tickled and was oddly teasing. I swallowed, shaking my head, my eyes still shut.

  “You will by the time I’m done with you. Got your pussy slapped?” His finger pushed into my puckered hole, just an inch, but he plunged into my pussy with his tongue at the same time, making me roar in desire and lust and causing my legs to quiver.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, that’s gonna happen, too. How about ice cubes?”

  “Y-yes!” I breathed out, as he thrusted his tongue in and out of me, penetrating me in a way that felt rougher than actual sex. I was drenched, and not from the ocean. I shoved his head deeper between my thighs, not caring about the consequences, and he, in return, pushed his entire finger inside me and curled it upward, his smile against my hot, warm skin making me burn like bonfire. My climax gripped every bone of my body, shaking me in slow, intense waves and making my teeth chatter. Oh my God. Oh, my God. I didn’t know this could feel so powerful. So crazy. I was…full.

  “Of course, you tried ice,” he murmured into my pussy, laughing evilly. “I bet that’s why Bane said you weren’t vanilla. You’re not only vanilla, you’re vanilla and gluten-free. Repeat after me: safe, sane, and consensual, Edie.”

  The orgasm was slamming into me like whiplash. Again and again. It took me a few moments to realize I was experiencing multiple orgasms for the first time in my life. They were all equally intense, and I was beginning to wonder what it was about Trent that made me feel like I was burning from the inside out. Bane was good in bed. He was great, actually.