Page 212 of The Sinner: James

Earnestly sucking on me, she moves her lips and tongue and strokes me right as if she knows exactly what I want.

Caressing my balls, she licks my shaft and pulls me hard down her throat.

A groan falls from my lips, the tension spiking as I hold her face and fuck her mouth.

Moaning, she squirms at my feet, and I indulge in seeing her like that for a few good moments before collaring her neck and pulling her up to me.

I hook my hands under her thighs and lift her from the floor.

She wraps her legs around my waist and loops her arms around my neck while I prop her back against the wall, burying myself in her wet center.

Thrusting hard, we crash into the wall.

Clipped breaths roll from her lips, her eyes looking like broken mirrors, her smile frozen on her face.

“Don’t stop,” she murmurs as I hammer her.

She brings her lips to my mouth, and we melt into each other, feeding our hunger.

It doesn’t take long before the pleasure soars through both of us, and her nails scrape my neck, making me bleed.

Locked, we cross that line, experiencing heightened pleasure and brutal honesty.

We both know how deep our attraction for each other runs and how hard it is to crush it.

She growls inside my mouth, shaking with pleasure while I crash into her, flooding her with my release.

It takes a few more moments before we finally slow down. And yet, we’re still kissing.

12

JAMES

“Thank you, Mr. Harrington,”the man says.

The chef, a silver-haired man with perfect skin and a glowing tan, exits Lex’s suite as Rain and I walk in.

The smell of coffee and freshly cooked food greets us in the hallway while a gray winter morning filters through the windows.

I pull a chair out for Rain.

Lex runs his gaze over her before locking my eyes, shaking his head slowly.

She wears the same outfit as last night––a fitted navy dress and matching heels––her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling between her silky lashes, and a mesmerizing smile draping over her lips.

Lex shifts his eyes to me, quickly noticing my attire––tailored dress pants and a black fitted shirt.

“Where are you going?”

“To the auction house. You want to come?”

He searches my eyes, pondering.

“It’s going to be fun,” I toss at him.

“Sure,” he says.

He pours two cups of coffee and glances at Rain.

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