Page 22 of Holy Sinner

“Why are you so worried?” he asks and Rafe hums.

“You’re usually calmer after you drink.”

I blush. Of course he knew I drank his fancy whiskey. “It’s nothing. I just, well, I thought we were safe tonight and then we weren’t.”

Grant growls low, the sound of it rumbling against me as Rafe grips my hip. “You were. You are. You know that we’ll always keep you safe.”

“I know. It’s just that…” I swallow hard and let my voice trail off but Grant doesn’t let it go. “It’s just that what?”

“Things have been weird lately. It feels like everything we do is being watched, like there’s no escape.”

“That’s the way life is when you’re us. You know that, sweetheart.”

I lean my forehead against Grant’s chest and nod. “I know,” I whisper.

“We’re going to stop it. Stop them,” Rafe says. I still at the way he says ‘them’.

“Stop who?” I ask.

“The cunt that’s been sneaking photos of you,” Grant answers and I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if he’s talking about the photos the paparazzi has been sneaking when we’re out or the weird grainy cell phone photos someone is taking of me on the production lot–-or if he means the ones from my past. Those are the photos that I’m frightened of. Whoever has access to my past can ruin me.

“They wanna watch you? I’m going to rip their fucking eyeballs out and fuck the sockets,” Grant growls and I pat his cheek. He is being sweet in the only way he knows how. I’m not going to let my past near Grant or Rafe. Whoever is haunting me from my past is evil and the closer they get to what I have with my men, the closer I am to having it all ripped away from me.

“It’s fine,” I whisper into the dark and pretend that I don’t think Grant is referring to anyone but the person leaking photos of me now. “If I want to be with you both, I know how it’ll be. They’ll lose interest eventually,” I lie.

Grant Stone and Rafe Burdock are two of Hollywood’s brightest lights. Even if they drop off the face of the planet for a decade, people will still be hungry for news of them, probably even more so. Hiding away isn’t going to solve the issue. I know that.

Rafe drops a kiss against the side of my neck and brushes my hair away from my shoulder. “They won’t,” he says, calling me out on my bullshit just like he always does.

“They could,” I counter.

He snorts and continues to kiss me. I shiver at the brush of his lips and remember just how good it felt when he had me laid out on our dinner table that night. It had been bliss before we were interrupted, but now?

There’s no one to interrupt us now.

Whoever is watching us can’t get in here. Not our home. It’s the safest place in the world that I have ever known, even more so than my cottage in Connecticut but even there every once and while I would get scared or nervous, the sharp howl of the wind or ominous rattle of the window panes in the middle of the middle of the night was enough to have me laying in my bed alert. That isn’t the way of it now.

Not with Rafe and Grant sharing this space with me.

Anyone who walks in that door is a dead man, we all know it. No, in this home the locks on the doors are to keep Grant and Rafe away from everyone else. It keeps them where they ought to be, which isn’t roaming the streets looking for a kill. I shiver when the heavy weight of Rafe’s hand on my hip brings me back to reality.

The men that I love are killers. I know they’re dangerous. I also know that they haven’t killed since they’ve been with me because I don’t like it. I know that I’m the only reason they haven’t killed. Rafe presses himself flush up against my back and I can feel the hard line of his dick against my ass. Grant shoves the oversized sleep shirt I’m wearing, one of Grant’s, up my hips and waist until their hands are able to touch my bare skin.

I moan when Rafe presses a knee between my legs and lifts it so that my legs are open for Grant, who immediately slides down my body to my aching pussy. He circles my clit and licks into me, the slide of his tongue against my sensitive flesh makes my back arch and I grab onto his shoulders.

Rafe and Grant are killers, their hands bring nothing but violence and death. At least where everyone else is concerned. For me, though? For me, their hands are a different story—ecstasy, pleasure, their hands are the ones that make me cry and leave me weak and begging.

Grant crooks his fingers and strokes into me while he kisses my clit. It’s the hands of killers that make me come. As fucked up as it is, I think that’s why I come apart so easily for them. Rafe strokes his hands up my sides before he cups my breasts and pulls on my nipples. He kneads my breasts while he whispers in my ear, “so fucking perfect, you were made for us.” Rafe shifts the leg he has hooked with mine and opens me wider for Grant, who moans his approval against my cunt.

“That’s it. Fucking keep her just like that,” he tells Rafe before he’s back between my thighs and catches my clit between his teeth.

I scream and buck my hips. I grind my pussy against his face and Grant loves it. He grabs my ass with his free hand and squeezes it before he spits on his fingers and I feel him press against my ass.

“Grant, oh fuck,” I groan when he pushes against the bud of my ass. He eases his finger inside of me and adds another finger to the two already buried in my pussy with a satisfied moan.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take me.” He sucks on my clit and I rock my hips in time with his tongue. The flick of his tongue narrows my world down to nothing but Grant. He sinks further into my ass and I cum on his face with a sob. I feel so full with him in my ass and cunt, his mouth working my clit in time with my hips. I want to wrap my legs around his head but I can’t, not with the way that Rafe is holding me. I can’t move. I’m trapped between the two men no matter how hard I try to move, and it adds to the pleasure humming through my body like fire.

I’m powerless against them and god, how I fucking crave that. Everything that happens right now is entirely up to them. The only thing I have to do is enjoy while they take from me.

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