Page 6 of Daddy's Sinner

“Running from something, pretty boy?” she teases, taking a sip of her beer. I shake my head, leaning into the table to line up my shot. Three balls follow each other into the side pocket.

“Running? No,” I answer, straightening up and meeting her gaze. “I just prefer the unknown. It’s less boring,” I say as I circle the table, calculating my next move. “What about you?” I ask, nodding toward the worn-out leather jacket she’s wearing, snug against her body, hinting at the wild spirit underneath.

“Guess I’m similar,” she replies, folding her arms and leaning against a worn wooden barstool. "I never stay in one place long enough for the dust to settle.”

“I like that,” I murmur, my eyes tracing the curve of her lips. She saunters closer, her hips swaying just enough to draw my attention. “The name’s Zia. I don’t beat around the bush, and you strike me as someone who doesn’t either. How about meeting me in the bathroom for five minutes of heaven?” She raises her hand, displaying all five fingers with a slow, deliberate motion.

I tilt my head, considering her proposition. The heat of her offer makes my heart race. “I like your style, Zia. Name’s Alex,” I lie, eyeing her tempting lips as I aim for the last remaining ball. Without a word, she turns away, giving me a full view of her ass as she strides toward the bathroom. I watch her go, biting back a grin as the cue ball cuts across the table, sending the other ball into the corner pocket. I swirl my drink,taking a long swig as she disappears behind the bathroom door. The thrill of what’s to come buzzes in my veins. Placing my drink down, I follow Zia into heaven, anticipation building with every step.

Sinner

Iopen the bathroom door and Zia grabs my shirt, yanking me inside before slamming it shut. Her mouth crashes against mine with a hunger that matches my own. Her lips are warm and demanding, tasting faintly of beer. I slide my hands over her curves, savoring the softness of her body, the way her muscles tense under my touch as our kiss deepens. She shrugs off her jacket, letting it drop to the floor, and I pull her tank top over her head.

Her pierced breasts are exposed, nipples hard in the cool air. I cup them, tugging at the heart-shaped arrow piercing one of them. Zia moans into my mouth, her nails scratching lightly down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She pulls at my shirt, yanking it off over my head. Her eyes flick to the scars that cover my chest and back, her breath hitching slightly. Instead of flinching, she traces them with her fingers, her touch igniting a spark that travels straight to my core.

“How’d you get these?” she breathes against my lips, her voice thick with curiosity and lust. Her fingers linger on a jagged scar above my heart, the touch both gentle and insistent.

“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter, gripping her ass to pull her closer. The last thing I want to do is explain that I like feeling pain. So I kiss her again, my tongue plunging into her mouth, desperate to drown out thememories. It’s been too long since I’ve had a woman, and I need this—need her.

Zia smirks against my lips, her hands moving down my torso, fingers brushing over my abs, teasing the waistband of my jeans. “I like a man with a story,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.

“Another time,” I murmur, letting my hands explore her soft and warm skin. Soaking in how her body responded to my touch with every needy arch.

“Good. That just means I get to see you again,” she says, her hazel eyes flashing with mischief. I lift her onto the sink, her legs wrapping around my waist. The porcelain is cold against my palms as I brace myself on either side of her. “Sounds good to me,” I say, grinding against her, feeling the heat radiating from her core, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through me.

Zia’s breath hitches, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I like your style, Alex,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with anticipation. Her eyes are dark with desire, her lips parted.

“You’re going to like a lot more than that,” I promise, my lips trailing down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, the rapid pulse at her throat. I unbutton her jeans, sliding my hand inside to find her wet and ready. Her small hand reaches between us, undoing my belt with practiced ease, slipping into my pants. I groan as her fingers wrap around my cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, her touch driving me wild.

“Tell me your story,” she asks, her voice husky, breath warm against my ear. Her hazel eyes, dark with lust, search mine. She’s craving more than just a physical connection, wanting to dig deeper, to understand.

“I told you, another time,” I whisper, but her grip tightens, her strokes becoming more insistent. My breath hitches, a low growl escaping my lips.

“Just a snippet,” she insists, her hand moving faster, squeezing just right. I can feel the tension building, the tight coil of need in my gut.

I smirk, thinking of a lie, but the truth slips out instead. “Hard life. Shitty parents. Shittier childhood,” I say, my voice rough, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Zia bites her lip, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my cock, her fingers never slowing. “Sounds like we have more in common than just a need for escape,” she murmurs, her voice low and thoughtful.

“Maybe,” I reply, my breath hitching as her grip tightens, her strokes becoming more insistent. I feel the tension coiling in my abdomen, my release just within reach. I slide my hand up her thigh, fingers teasing the edge of her panties, feeling the heat and dampness waiting for me. “But right now, I’m only running toward one thing.”

“And what’s that?” she breathes, her strokes faltering as she shudders under my touch.

“You,” I say firmly, pressing her back against the mirror. My fingers slip beneath her panties, finding her slick and ready. I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she gasps, her head falling back, eyes fluttering shut. “Just you.”

Zia's lips find mine again, urgent and demanding. Her hands slide down to stroke my cock, and I feel myself teetering on the edge. I pull away, taking a moment to catch my breath, our foreheads pressed together, the sound of our ragged breathing filling the small space.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks, her voice breathless, a hint of anxiety in her eyes.

“No,” I admit, cursing under my breath. How could I have been so stupid?

Her smile doesn’t waver. She reaches into her jeans pocket, pulling out a foil packet. The sight of it sends a wave of relief crashing over me.

“I’m always prepared,” she says, tearing it open and rolling it onto me with deft fingers. She’s ready, and so am I.

I grab her braid, spinning her around and bending her over the sink. I thrust into her, burying myself deep. Zia gasps, her fingers gripping the edge of the sink as I move. The cramped space makes every thrust hit deeper, her moans echoing in the small bathroom. Her eyes lock on mine in the mirror, and the sight of her reflection. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the wild look in her eyes—sends a jolt of pleasure through me.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I groan, gripping her hips, pulling her back against me. The slap of skin against skin is loud in the tiny room, a primal rhythm that drives us both higher. “Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are.”

---