The Sinner (The St. Clair Brothers Book 1)

  She was fucking made for me.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Her head thrashed from side to side and her body twisted what little it could within the confines of the chains. I couldn’t look away, thoroughly entranced. Kylie’s reactions went way beyond anything I’d experienced, and we hadn’t even got to the good stuff yet.

  “Maudit calvare,” I muttered under my breath. Kylie was breathing so hard and fast she didn’t hear me. In fact, the glazed-over look in her eyes said she was off in another universe. The fact that I did that to her, sent Kylie soaring, and with so little effort, blew my damn mind.

  Moving faster than should be possible without a pair of blades on my feet, I unclasped the cuffs on Kylie’s ankles and rolled on the condom I’d dropped on the bed. Fuck foreplay. My dick was going to snap off if I didn’t get inside her. Without instruction, Kylie kept her legs spread. She panted heavily and waited to see what I did next.

  “I’m sorry.” I growled in desperation. “I planned to draw this out, but I can’t wait any longer.” With that, I shoved my cock in her tight pussy and kept going until my balls touched her skin.

  Kylie groaned as I split her open. The silken walls of her pussy clenched and rippled around my dick and already, a familiar, tingling sensation rocketed down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed perfectly still to keep from shooting my load. How fucking embarrassing would that be?

  Once the urge to blow receded, I stared at Kylie. She looked up and with the force of a heavyweight’s swing, the breath punched out of my lungs. Hands cuffed to the bed, hair mussed, lips puffy, and cheeks crimson, Kylie lifted her sinful legs, wound them around my waist, and clasped them at the ankles. The sight was beyond erotic, it was pure fantasy porn, not to mention it brought me thatmuchcloser to her, which pulled my cock thatmuchdeeper.

  Physically, Kylie was a perfect ten, but it wasn’t her body that had me captivated. I was riveted by her eyes, the reflection of desire, need, and overwhelming trust.

  She made me feel like a god.

  I began to move. Slowly at first. I studied her carefully and shifted positions based on Kylie’s reactions. When I stabbed in deep at one particular angle, she yelped each time. Bingo. Keeping that position, I sped my thrusts, hammering her fast and hard, over and over until her body glistened with sweat, her muscles quaked, and her loud moans morphed into one long, unending wail.

  I felt the first spasms of Kylie’s pussy, and lifted her leg to drape it over my shoulder and expose the side of her luscious ass. I waited until her climax took hold, lifted my hand, and brought it down. It landed on her skin with a loud crack as she came.

  Kylie arched her back tight as a bowstring, and screamed my name. Her entire body shook and the chains rattled as the pleasure overcame her. I smacked her ass a second time, using the pain to draw out the orgasm. Kylie’s eyes took on a hazy, faraway look—she was flying.

  That was my cue. I picked up the pace and pistoned in and out, the wet heat gripping my cock like a slick glove. Sweat dripped down my cheeks and I struggled to hold onto Kylie’s hips as my fingers slid across her skin. It only took a few thrusts for my rhythm to stutter. I came so hard I thought I might black out. Lights sparked and my vision went fuzzy. I gripped her hard enough to leave bruises and emptied my balls deep in her pussy, spurt after spurt of glorious ecstasy. It wasn’t until I pumped every last drop from my balls that I groaned, collapsed on top of a panting, wrecked Kylie, and closed my eyes to catch my breath.

  I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, me slumped over Kylie, except that it felt… weird. Not bad, weird. In fact, it felt the opposite. Good, weird. Except I don't cuddle. Ever. I fuck, I get up, I get dressed, and I leave. The mere fact that my first instinct wasn’t to spring from the bed and hustle Kylie out the door, had me worried.

  “Can you…?” The rattle of chains drew my attention.

  Shit. I was so out of it, so relaxed and content, I forgot to release Kylie.

  “Yeah.”

  I shuffled to my knees, ignored the fact that my legs felt like jelly, reached up, and slid open the buckles. Then I massaged Kylie's arms and shoulders to get the blood flowing. She’d be sore tomorrow, but hopefully it would be a feeling she enjoyed. Maybe think of me every time a muscle twinged.

  “You okay?”

  From the blissed out look on Kylie’s face, the question was redundant. Even so, I shouldn't have cared how she was doing. Never did about any of the other women.

  Again, until Kylie.

  I climbed off the bed, pulled on my jeans, and fled to the safety of the bathroom. Behind the closed door, I ran the faucet to make it sound like I was actually doing something useful rather than hiding. I propped my hands on the sink and stared into the mirror.

  Instead of the moody, glaring, angry man I was familiar with, the guy in the reflection looked... happy. He smiled and his eyes sparkled with satisfaction. I wasn’t sure who the fuck the asshole thought he was, but his stupid grin unnerved me.

  I splashed cold water on my face and haphazardly dried off, chucking the towel on the floor. There would be plenty of time to have an existential crisis later. After all the shit I'd been though, I deserved a break. Five fucking minutes of happiness.

  Satisfied I could play it cool and not start drawing little hearts with our names inside, I took a deep breath, ignored the unfamiliar, fluttery sensation in my belly, and exited the bathroom. My ability to play it cool sucked, because my gaze went directly to the bed.

  And my stomach promptly did a triple lindy and splattered all over the floor.

  Good things didn’t happen to me. Happiness didn’t happen to me. I was forever destined to be bitter and angry.

  Karma, you vicious little bitch.

  The bed was empty.

  9

  Seb

  Fully dressed, down to her shoes, Kylie was standing in the main living area, her spine as stiff as a board. Her posture blinked like a glaring neon sign that all but shouted “Danger, danger! You’ve got a runner on your hands!”

  Seeing Kylie so desperate to leave sent my good mood into a nosedive. I went from the top of the world to the pits of hell in one second flat.

  “Leaving already?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I regretted it immediately.

  St. Clair, you fuckwad. Could you sound any needier?

  Kylie didn’t look in my direction. “Um, yeah. I need to, uh, get going. My….uh, my roommate is expecting me.”

  Good thing she wasn’t looking at me, because I think I actually mouthed the word, “wow.” She had me so fucking turned around, I didn’t know what to think. Not only did I not introduce her to my front door a heartbeat after I came, but Kylie just gave me what might actually qualify as the flimsiest excuse since, “I have to wash my hair tomorrow,” or, “I have an early meeting,” both of which I may have used at one time or another.

  Like I said, Karma.

  I clamped down the urge to be snarky and replied with a cold, “That’s fine,” instead. Kylie flinched, not that I blamed her. My tone was glacial enough to put icicles on the ceiling fan.

  She turned to me and my pulse stumbled when I looked in her eyes. Gone was the sexy, smoldering heat, the enthusiastic passion, the woman who, not five minutes ago, trusted me enough to let go of her inhibitions and follow me down the rabbit hole. In Kylie’s place sat someone else, a stranger, and, from the closed-off expression and guilt-ridden eyes, she held more secrets than Jimmy Hoffa. You didn’t need to study kinesics to read Kylie’s body language. The unspoken, “get me the fuck out of here,” may as well have been scrawled across her forehead in black Sharpie.

  Stranger-Kylie glanced in the direction of the door.

  Fists at my sides, I had to force out, “I’ll get dressed and take you home.”

  The words sounded foreign, like someone else spoke them. Hell, I felt like someone else. Self-doubt wasn’t familiar to me. Neither was the overwhelming desire to drop to my knees and beg K
ylie to stay. To strip her clothes off, pull her into bed, wrap her up in my arms, and never let go.

  So what did I do? Did I speak up? Did I confess my desires to the woman who banged a hand on the plexi and into my life, only to flip my world upside down? Did I ask her to stay, or try to talk to her about what she was thinking?

  Of course not. I’m an asshole. At least I’m consistent.

  The drive passed in complete silence and, despite wanting to grimace, I maintained a detached, unaffected facade, as if I weren’t fucking dying inside. When I stopped in front of Kylie’s building and put the truck in park, she glanced up at me from under her lashes. She got a look at my emotionless features and winced. I almost felt bad. Almost. The ache in my chest along with my unwavering assholiness, kept my mouth shut and my ass in the seat.

  Kylie mumbled so low I strained to hear. “I guess I’ll, um, talk to you later?”

  Seriously?

  I wanted to yell. To shake her senseless. To insist she tell me what was wrong. But I refused to let her see how much the knife to the gut hurt. I didn’t respond with words. I couldn’t, afraid my voice or my willpower would snap like a twig. Instead, I answered with a sharp nod.

  Kylie’s eyes shimmered with tears, but to her credit, not a single one fell. She scrabbled for the latch and flung open the door. I wish I could say didn’t watch her walk into the building and continue to stare until long after she disappeared from sight, but when it came to Kylie, I was weak. I didn’t know why, but she was the chink in my armor. My Achilles heel. My soft spot.

  I scrubbed my jaw and cursed myself out; not just for indulging in stupid fantasies about a relationship I would never have and certainly didn’t deserve, allowing them to invade my thoughts, but for not taking that leap of faith. Grabbing on to what could very well have been my one and only chance at true happiness.

  It was probably for the best. A guy like me didn’t end up with a woman like Kylie. There was no doubt in my mind, if I pursued her, I would break her heart and ruin her life.

  That’s what I was good at. Ruining things.

  It didn't stop me from spending the rest of the day plotting a way to see Kylie again. Because deep down, I was a selfish prick. I’d go after her, despite the risk to her well-being and with total disregard for how it might affect her.

  That was how I lived. With the exception of Rémy, everything I touched turned into a shitshow. Despite my best efforts, even my own brother ended up with a heaping load of issues that rivaled mine.

  There was no reason to expect anything with Kylie to turn out different.

  I was a wrecking ball and, unfortunately, someone was going to end up smashed. Whether it was Kylie or me, I didn't know.

  I plugged my phone into my sound system and swiped until I found the playlist I wanted. Loud, thumping music reverberated throughout the condo as I made myself a late-night snack. Immersed in my thoughts, I ate, cleaned up the kitchen, and made sure the door was locked.

  Was there a chance Kylie and me could somehow work out?

  My personal experience shouted a resounding, “fuck no,” but hell, I wanted to cling to that sliver of hope, no matter how unlikely. I mean, how much shit did one person have to go through before he was due to catch a goddamn break?

  That was my last thought right before I went over to the stereo and reached out to turn off the music.

  “Son of a—”

  I managed to yank my phone free as a power surge fried my very expensive, state-of-the-art sound system. Sparks shot out of the receiver and it let out a blast of whiny, high-pitched, ear-splitting feedback. Tiny flames erupted from the receiver. I stuck a finger in each of my ears to make they weren’t bleeding.

  “Motherfucker!”

  I ran and grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink and sprayed the flames before the sprinkler system came on. Disheartened, but wholly unsurprised by the sequence of events, I sagged in resignation and stared at the charred remains of ten thousand dollars with of equipment as the sharp scent of melted plastic and electronics singed my nostrils.

  Me? Catch a break? Yeah, right. I had a better chance of becoming the Prime Minister of Canada.

  Peoplekind. What a douchbag.

  Kylie

  The following week was rough, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like an eternity. I spent ninety-nine percent of the slow-moving time thinking about Seb. It was so bad, it got to the point where not only did my work suffer, but I kept catching Rocco shooting me confused looks. Once, he even asked point-blank what my problem was. I got so sick of his constant pestering that I finally blurted out I had a raging case of PMS.

  Rocco’s eyes went wide and he fled the room. I might have taken a little pleasure in that. Nothing scared men like the threat of discussing your menstrual cycle.

  Friday had rolled around, again, and even though I loved my internship, I couldn't wait for five o’clock so I could go home. Why? Not a clue. It wasn’t as if I had plans, except to sit around and mope, wishing I was with Seb. Maybe it would happen… in an alternate universe. A universe where Seb wasn't an emotionally stunted man-whore and my brother wasn't a hot-tempered, bullheaded, meddling idiot.

  "Hot date?"

  Piper approached my desk and I attempted to smile, but it was a weak effort. With anyone else, I wouldn't have bothered. Piper, however, isn’t "anyone else." I had to show her everything was okay. If I didn’t, she would pry. Piper was the only person who knew about Seb, and she had taken to drilling me about him at the most random of times. The woman was relentless. Good for a journalist, bad when you wanted to forget.

  At least I didn’t tell her I hooked up with him last Friday. To Piper’s frustration, over the last week, each and every time she cornered me, I talked my way out of giving her an explanation for my weirdness. Eventually, she would call me out on my bullshit. I just hoped my time wasn’t up.

  “Nah, just tired,” I said as I filed a few papers, mostly to avoid making eye contact. As observant as she was, Piper was even more so when she looked you in the eye.

  "Riiiight." She perched on the edge of my tiny cubicle desk, clearly not about to go anywhere until she got what she wanted. "So, you’re saying your mopey attitude all week was because you were tired." Piper rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Try again."

  "Come on, Piper," I whined. "Can we not talk about this?"

  “Talk about what? The fact that you're really into this guy, the fact that you’re trying to hide it from me, or the fact that you don’t want to admit any of it?”

  I huffed and crossed my arms. "It was just a bit of fun. Remember? You and I already talked about this. And, um, you were right, by the way.” I took a sudden, acute interest in my stapler, and flipped it over in my hands. “It was a mistake to get involved with him.” Of course she heard me, despite my mumbling.

  "But totally worth it, right?" I glanced up at Piper and, to my surprise, she was grinning.

  As usual, her smile was contagious and tugged at the corners of my mouth. I chuckled, but it was accompanied by a painful ache in my chest.

  ”Totally. Yep,” I agreed.

  "See, I told you—” Piper read my wounded expression and her face fell. "Oh my god, Ky. I was just kidding when I said you were into him."

  I ducked my head so she wouldn't see me cry. Piper’s hand curled around my arm. I pushed my hair out of my face, tried to keep it together, and failed.

  “I swear I didn’t know,” Piper said. “It's more than that, isn't it?” She stared at me and realization flitted across her features. “Oh my god. You don’t just like him… you're falling for him."

  I wiped my eyes and waved her off. “Not really. I don't even know him. So no, I'm not falling for him. I just wish—”

  “You wish it wasn't so complicated," Piper said when I got too choked up to finish.

  "Yeah."

  It didn't matter whether or not I liked Seb, we could never be together, not for real. First, Rocco would never accept it
, and second, Seb would never accept me if he found out Rocco was my brother. Besides, it really was just sex. At least, for Seb.

  Another jolt of pain squeezed my heart and I winced.

  "I'm so sorry, Kylie. It sucks. I know exactly how you feel when you want to be with someone, but extenuating circumstances make it impossible."

  "It does suck," I agreed. With a final sniff, I stood and smoothed my hands down my clothes. Chin up, trying to maintain some sense of dignity, I asked Piper, "What do you say we go out and forget about men and their extenuating circumstances?"

  Piper's eyes glittered and that wide grin returned. "Let's go."

  "I don't get you, Kylie. What is it? Suddenly you don't like hockey anymore?"

  Exhausted by the subject, I sat on the couch and watched Rocco pace back and forth, his perma-scowl front and center, v-shaped wrinkle front and center.

  "I told you, I've been busy with work and when I'm not there I'm catching up on sleep."

  More lies. God, Rocco deserved so much better. But it wasn’t as if I could tell him why I couldn’t go to his games. The possibility of Seb trying to, or worse, successfully making contact where Rocco would see, scared me to death. No way would Rocco miss his arch-nemesis chatting up his little sister. Nothing good would happen if I went to the Comets games, both in terms of Rocco, and my fragile, melancholy heart.

  Rocco shot me a glare. He didn't buy my pathetic excuse and, in his defense, it was pretty crappy. Plus, I let him down and that sucked.

  "Then they’re working you too hard. You shouldn't be so worn out that you can't spend a couple hours watching hockey on your own free time." He resumed his pacing. The long legs on his six-foot-six frame devoured the room in a couple of strides before he turned and went the opposite direction. "And what about weekends?" Rocco stopped and threw his hands in the air. "Why all of a sudden do you have to work on weekends?"