Page 14 of Daddy's Sinner

I fuck my hand hard and fast, chasing the high, the rush of pleasure building with every stroke. My eyes squeeze shut as I imagine Marisol’s whimpers against me, her hot breath ghosting over my sensitive skin, adding to the delicious friction. The image of her creamy thighs straddling my waist, my hands gripping her hips as she takes all of me—fuck, it’s too much. My core tightens, and my cock jerks in my hand as I spill onto the shower floor, a growl tearing from my throat.

I need more. I need her.

After my release, I lean back against the tiled wall, panting hard, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. My hand falls away from my still half-hard length, and I turn my face into the spray of hot water, trying to regain some semblance of control.

This obsession is going to be the death of me.

I finish getting myself together and head out the door, trying to shake off the possessive thoughts that cling to me like a second skin.One more night of fun won’t hurt anybody,I reason, trying to convince myself that Marisol will still be there tomorrow, untouched and waiting for me. The thought of her burns in the back of my mind, even as I try to push it away. But it’s useless—she’s all I want, all I crave.

As I walk toward the bar, I spot a figure ahead—black hair, long tan legs, leather pants, and a white crop top exposing her back. It’s Zia. The dim streetlight accentuates her curves, drawing my eyes to the tantalizing display of skin. A tug in my stomach ignites an unfulfilled desire. But it’s not her I want. She’s not Marisol. Zia’s almond-shaped eyes meet mine, her smoky gaze enough to set my blood aflame. She wears a devil’s smirk, and I feel a pulse of need, tinged with frustration.

“Hi, stranger,” she purrs, her voice sultry.

I offer a half-smile and lean closer, my voice low. “Care to share a drink?”

“Only if I get to bring you home, pretty boy.”

I grab her waist, pulling her flush against me. “Deal.”

As we head toward the bar, I spot Victor and his cult buddies inside. My stomach twists. I keep my hands on Zia’s waist, steering her away from the entrance. “How about we skip the drinks and get to the fun part?”

She glances inside, following my gaze to Victor and his followers. “Your idea sounds good. The bar is full of dickheads and religious filth anyway.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You know them?”

She looks over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “Unfortunately, yes. They’re not the kind of people I want to share my evening with.”

I nod, but my mind is still half-occupied with thoughts of Marisol. This isn’t what I want. I want her. But Zia’s body is right here, and the pull is undeniable. “Then let’s go so I can bury my cock deep inside you.”

She chuckles, low and throaty, lacing her fingers with mine. A wicked grin forms on her lips as she leads the way. The night is filled with the sound of our boots crunching on the gravel beneath us as we make our way to her motel room. We don’t speak, but I notice she’s scanning the area, her eyes darting to every shadow. Is she scared? Is she running from something? There’s definitely something bothering Zia tonight.

We pull up to her rundown motel, the flickering neon sign casting an eerie light over Zia's face. The shifting shadows make her look distant, like she's carrying a weight she won't talk about. She reaches into her pocket for the keys, her hands trembling just a little, and then she drops them. I bend down, not in a rush to grab them. I drift to thoughts of Marisol. What would it feel like? Her soft skin, her lips, her body moving beneath me. Damn it, why does she keep creeping into my head like this?

I slowly pick up the keys, taking a moment before holding them out to Zia. “You, okay?” I ask, my voice low, sensing that something’s off but not wanting to say it.

She nods quickly, reaching for the keys, our fingers brushing. There’s something unusual in the way she’s acting. “What’s up?” I ask, trying to read her, my mind still partially occupied with thoughts of Marisol.

Zia shakes her head, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t want to talk, okay? Just fuck me until I forget everything but the feeling of your dick inside me.”

Her bluntness pulls me back to the moment. Without another word, she unlocks the door and strides into the room. I follow, closing the door behind us. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp—small and homey, decorated in warm tones, but there’s a tension in the air.

Zia starts undressing, her fingers shaky as she fumbles with the buttons on her leather pants. “I've been waiting for this all night,” she murmurs. Her breath catches as she strips off her pants and crop top, revealing her soft curves.

“All night, huh?” I tease, crossing my arms, pretending I’m surprised even though we both know damn well we made plans to meet. This was always going to happen, and I’m more than okay with that. “How’d you know I’d show up at the bar?”

She gives me that sly smile, tilting her head. “Just a hunch.”

Raising an eyebrow, trying to keep things light, but Marisol still lingers in the back of my mind. But I push the thought aside, at least for now. “A hunch, huh? You must be a pretty good guesser.”

Zia steps closer, her eyes locking onto mine with a knowing look. “Maybe I just know what you need.”

I manage a smirk, but it’s not as smooth as I’d like. “And what do you think I need?” I ask.

Her fingers brush over my chest, teasing and deliberate. “Something to take your mind off whatever is bothering you. I can be that distraction.”

“Is that so?” I murmur, pulling her closer by the hips. She's right in front of me. But I wonder how different things would feel. It’s a fleeting thought, but one I can easily push away. Zia presses her body against mine, her eyes dark with desire. “Absolutely. And trust me, you’ll like it.”

I nod, trying to focus on the sensation of her body pressing against me. “Well, let’s see if your distraction lives up to the hype.”

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