Page 44 of Holy Sinner

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

“What do you say when you want me to fuck you, shy girl?”

“Daddy,” I gasp. It’s what he wants to hear, it’s what I want to say. It’s what makes him treat me the way I like best. Behind me, Grant groans in approval and his fingers dig into my thighs. He moves me, raises me up and offers my weeping pussy to Rafe like a piece of ripe fruit for him to enjoy. Rafe releases my nipple with an audible pop, a line of spit clings to the raised peak as he slides down my chest. My eyes fix on it and I follow it lower to where Rafe’s dark head is bent. The heat of my touch has released the natural curl in his hair that I only see when he’s fresh from the shower or just returned from a run. He buries his nose in the crease of my thigh and inhales.

“Smell so fucking good, baby girl.”

My toes curl at the name. Baby girl. It’s new to me, just like calling him Daddy is. But it feels right. Like a little game we play just between the three of us, even though we’ve never laid the rules out to what it is that we’re doing. Rafe adds another finger inside of me and crooks his fingers in the way he knows is going to make me lose my mind. When he thrusts his fingers inside of me, Grant rocks me forward to add an extra punch to Rafe’s movements. When he strokes my clit with his thumb, it doesn’t take long for me to start to come undone. The pressure starts low, like it always does.

“That’s my dirty fucking girl. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say automatically. I don’t even bother to hide that Rafe is right. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms because I can’t move to touch him the way I want. If I could, I’d force him closer. I’d move his lips right where I want them. In the end, Rafe does it on his own and takes my clit between his lips. The first drag of his tongue makes me gasp and then I moan when he does it again. He takes his time, fingers still stroking in and out of me at just the right pace. He sucks harder, tongue working me and I shatter so fast that I feel dizzy.

Rafe winds the straps of my bralette tighter around his hand and gives the fabric a hard pull that forces me to be still despite my bucking body. “Fuck yeah,” he groans when I cum on his tongue and thrash in his hold. My bra straps cut into my skin and it’s almost painful but straddles the line, just like everything does with Rafe and Grant.

Pleasure and pain, exhilaration and release, all of it so mixed up together that I can’t see my way out. I don’t want it to be any other way. My legs feel like jelly and I can’t stand when Rafe steps back and finally lets my bra straps free. The loose material falls down my arms, the bralette bunched up under my breasts and pinching my skin. Rafe grabs ahold of my yoga leggings and tears them off entirely with a violent rip of his hands before my feet hit the floor and I’m left shaking in Grant’s arms. He holds me up as I grab onto the forearm he curls around my chest to steady myself. Rafe’s dark eyes stay on me while he pulls his pants off and tosses them to the side.

The moon is high in the sky above us now, the purples and grays of twilight replaced by the night. My breath catches when I take in the hard lines and planes of his body. I’m reminded of that night all those weeks ago beneath the pier when I thought he looked like an angel. Now I know he’s not. My man is a dark god, not an angel.

“I love you.”

Those three words are from Rafe.

My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at his words and a silly dopey smile spreads across my lips. I raise a shaking hand to touch him like I wanted to do before and he steps willingly into my touch.

“My good fucking girl,” he murmurs when I cup his cheek. I can feel the scratch of his stubble against my fingers and I focus on that and not the fact that when he calls me his good girl a knot settles into my stomach. I thought telling Grant and now him about Jasmine would fix that, but it hasn’t. It’s still there. Gnawing away at me by the second.

“Rafe,” I whisper. The truth of everything is on the tip of my tongue because I know the woman he wants is a good girl. Someone that isn’t capable of what I’ve done. That’s the truth of it. Even if they said they were proud of me for putting Jasmine in her place. It has to be, because how else can they want me?

“Rafe, I-” I start but there’s no space for words when he puts a hand over Grant’s and jerks me to him. I cry out and close my eyes when he thrusts into me and it feels so much better than when he had his fingers inside of me. There’s nothing like having my men inside of me. It makes me blind to everything else in the world and I’m powerless to stop it. Rafe holds me with Grant and kisses me.

“I love you,” he says again and when I open my eyes I see he isn’t looking at me. His eyes are on Grant and my heart soars. And when he kisses Grant over my shoulder, my heart crashes and breaks through the glass above us until everything looks like stars.

Chapter Twenty-One

RAFE

“Is there anymore champagne?” Kit’s voice floats to me, sweet like music and I smile.

“Yes, I’ll bring it.”

If there wasn’t anymore champagne we’d be in big trouble. Filming starts back up tomorrow, so I’m not touching a drop and neither is Grant. I’m careful about drinking when filming is happening. One too many can do a lot to your appearance when you’re on film in high-def. There’s also the fact that Holly was on a tirade, with Jane on her heels dutifully taking notes, while Holly swore if she saw one of us show up with even a hint of a hangover she’d make us pay.

How the tiny blonde woman would do that, I don’t know, but she’d find a way. She’s more hands on now that things are shaky with filming. If this movie bombs with Grant and I in the mix she’d never recover from it. All that considered, we’re not drinking but Kit is. She polished off a bottle throughout the night and despite her red cheeks and giggles, she’s not showing signs of slowing down. I don’t mind. She doesn’t let go often like this. It’s nice to see.

I’m uncorking a fresh bottle for Kit when Grant clears his throat.

“You give her any more of that and she’s going to have a headache in the morning, especially at this hour,” Grant says from where he’s meticulously cutting cheese and salami. I look at the stove and see the clock shining bright. It’s 12:05 in the morning and Kit asked for a snack ten minutes ago, which is the exact amount of time that Grant has spent crafting a snack board that I hate to admit looks good as hell. There’s olives, crackers, meats, cheeses, strawberries and grapes along with jam. I think he’s even made her tiny cucumber sandwiches.

“When the fuck did you make all of that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“She’s not going to be able to eat all of that,” I tell him before I debate on whether he’s right and Kit has had enough alcohol or not before he speaks.

“It’s not all for her. Is there anything else you want on here?”

He gestures at the snack board he’s made for Kit and that’s when his words catch up to me. “If it’s not all for her then are you saying you made that for me, too?”

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