Page 5 of Forbidden Sins

I turn to rinse off the soap trailing down my body, and my cock throbs, reminding me that there’s something that needs to be indulgednow. I consider trying to ignore it, but I’m harder than I can remember having been in a long time, my erection nearly painful, my cockhead brushing against my navel. I’m so fucking hard. I need to come, and I won’t be able to focus on anything else until I do.

Tipping my head back under the hot water and closing my eyes, I wrap my hand around my thick shaft, groaning as I stroke it once from root to tip, rubbing my palm over the swollen head. Pleasure arcs down my spine, curling my toes against the warm tiles of the shower, and I lean forward, bracing my hand against the wall as I start to stroke with more purpose.

Fuck, that feels good.It would feel even better with warm, plush lips wrapped around my cock, stroking, sucking—an image pops into my head of Estella staring wide-eyed at the shape of my cock in my swim trunks, her full lips slightly parted, and in an instant, my thoughts are a speeding train wreck, running away with that image before I can stop them.

Estella, crossing the space to where I stepped out of the pool, sinking down onto her knees on the wet tile, her ponytail bouncing as she hooks her fingers in my wet swim trunks. Thoselips and eyes parting wider as she tugs them down and sees my long, thick erection spring free, slapping against my wet, taut flesh. Her long, delicate fingers wrapping around my shaft, those plush lips pressed against my tip, her pink tongue sliding around the crown of it, lapping up my pre-cum?—

“Fuck!”My jaw clenches, my hand squeezing my cock convulsively as I try to shove the thoughts out of my head. I try to think of anything else—a porn clip I watched recently of one girl riding a man’s face while another sucked his cock, a man spraying cum all over an eager girl’s lips as she looked up at him wide-eyed… anything but Estella. Anything but the girl that I’m supposed to protect, not lust after.

But I can’t focus on any of it. I can almostsmellthe sharp chlorine scent of the pool still, feel the warm, humid air as Estella sucks my cock into her mouth, gagging inexpertly on it as I push into the back of her throat, wrapping my hand in her ponytail to steady her?—

A string of curses spills from my lips as my orgasm hits me without warning, too fast and hard to force myself to think about anything else as I come. My cock throbs and strains in my hand as I stroke feverishly, her name spilling from my lips as I paint the tiles with my cum, my muscles locked in spasm after spasm of pleasure as I imagine that cum filling her mouth, her lips glossy with it as I slide myself free.

“Fuck…Estella—” I groan, still stroking as I squeeze the last drops of cum from my pulsing length, my chest heaving. I stay braced against the wall for a long moment, water dripping from my hair as I try to catch my breath.

In seconds, as the pleasure recedes and reality returns, guilt swamps me. I just didexactlywhat I’ve avoided doing for years, what I was only moments ago reminding myself of the reasons for why those rules exist. And there’s no taking it back now.

That fantasy is burned in my mind. It’ll take every bit of the self-control I have to re-gather to avoid thinking about it in the future. And I’ll need to go down and face Estella shortly, and pretend that I didn’t just come harder than I ever have in my fucking life while I imagined her on her knees sucking my cock.

“Holygod, Sinclair,” I chastise myself, teeth gritted as I duck beneath the water again to wash myself clean. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I don’t answer my own question. I know exactly what I was thinking about, and it can’t happen again.

My job is to protect her. I’ve done it flawlessly for three years, and I have every intention of doing it for years to come—not just because it’s a good and steady job, but because I care deeply for Estella. The thought of another man being responsible for protecting her sends a jolt of possessive anger through me, a feeling that’s not so much a want but aneed.

And what about when she’s married?A knot tightens in my stomach at the thought.What if her husband doesn’t want her keeping a bodyguard that she’s soclosewith?

I swallow hard, turning off the shower more roughly than necessary. As long as I do my job and don’t overstep, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t continue to fill the position even once Estella is married and living on her own. She’ll still need protection, and that day might be a long time coming. Luis is the heir. His responsibilities to marry and carry on the name are much more pressing than Estella’s. Antony coddles her somewhat, it’s entirely possible that he might let her delay finding a husband for as long as she likes.

And today, what matters more than any of that is that I go back downstairs without giving Estella the slightest inclination of what I’ve been thinking about. That I focus on making sure I keep an eye out for her tonight at her party, and ensure that security is what it should be.

I should be meeting with her father and Brick right now about the plans for security tonight, not imagining his daughter on her knees with my cock stuffed in her mouth.

Guilt floods me again, and I towel off roughly, changing into my usual uniform for the day. For summer, I opt for black chinos and a fitted black T-shirt, as well as comfortable motorcycle boots. I keep a gun holstered at my side, and while at first Estella was put off by the fact that I’m constantly armed around her, she’s gotten used to it over the years. Now, I don’t think she gives it a second thought.

I head down to her father’s office. There’s no sign of Estella anywhere, and I imagine she’s staying away from the chaos of the party preparations. She prefers quiet, I know that, and I can imagine that the hectic atmosphere of the house today is getting to her.

“Come in,” Antony calls out when I knock on his office door. “Ah, Sebastian.” He sets down the file he was looking at, glancing at me from across his desk. “Is there something I can help you with?”

I pause a foot from the leather-backed chairs in front of his desk, hands clasped behind my back. “I wanted to check in on the security plans for tonight’s party, sir. I assume that most of your associates and the higher-ranking members of the families will be there. That’s an opportune moment for someone to strike, if there was anyone with intentions of harming the criminal hierarchy of New York, sir.”

“Indeed.” Antony eyes me calmly. “Bruce has already talked with me about this. You can check with him if you like. Security will be doubled tonight for the party, and I expect the Yashkov and Gallagher families will have their own security with them, as well. I expect you will focus on Estella, as always?”

I nod sharply. “Of course, sir.”

“Good.” He glances back down at his file, clearly uninterested in further conversation. “You can check with Bruce, then. He’ll fill you in on any of the finer details.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stride out of the office, going in search of Brick. I find him in the front courtyard with several of the other members of the security team, likely going over protocols for the evening. It’s a warm summer day, building to hot, and I feel the back of my neck prickle with sweat as I wait for Brick to finish.

I go over the plans for security with him—as Antony said, the general security for the estate will be doubled, as well as any security that might come along with the Yashkov and Gallagher families. As Brick fills me in, I can’t help but think wryly of what Estella said earlier—that the party isn’t so much for her as a way for Antony to throw a gala for everyone who might be important to his empire. This is a mafia networking event, not a birthday party for his daughter, and it irritates me in a way that I know it shouldn’t. None of this should matter to me. So long as I do my job and ensure Estella is protected, that’s all that should matter.

When I finish debriefing with Brick, I head back inside the mansion to find her. A quick knock on her bedroom door tells me that she’s not in there, and I don’t find her in the library or the entertainment suite, either. Eventually, I track her down to the sunroom, and I pause in the doorway as I catch sight of her, my chest squeezing with an emotion that I know I would do well to bury as deeply as possible.

She looks like a vision, like something out of a fairytale or a painting. She’s wearing a light white eyelet sundress, with fluttery sleeves and a cinched bodice that pushes her full breasts up in a way that makes my mouth go dry. I tear my eyes away from them instantly, but there’s nowhere else to look that makes it any better. The skirt clings to her narrow waist, spills over her full hips, and if I look at her face—her face is just as beautifulas the rest of her. A long, delicate throat, a sharp, pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a full mouth. Wide, dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. Those eyes are fixed on the easel in front of her; she’s working on an oil painting, facing the window that overlooks the gardens.

Sunlight is streaming through the huge windows that make up the entire front wall of the sunroom, illuminating Estella, glinting off the dark hair that she has piled up atop her head in a messy bun. She hasn’t even heard me walk in. She’s too focused on the painting in front of her, her eyes flicking up every now and then to take in the landscape just outside the windows.

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