Page 99 of Sweet Sinners
Has my moral compass been warped by loving him? Maybe. I can't justify the things he's done—but I don't need to. The man whoholds me now, gentle and fierce, is the only version of him I care about. The person he had to become in order to survive…that’s in the past, behind us where it belongs.
The fact that I go straight back to work on Monday nearly drives Connor insane. He wants me here, safe and in his line of sight, still fiercely protective despite the bandages on his shoulder. But staying home isn’t an option. There too many things to get done at the company, and I am responsible for all of it.
The press loves it, spinning my determination into a story of strength and resilience. Suddenly, I'm the hero—relentless, unshakeable, the leader who refuses to back down, no matter the personal cost.
Connor hates that too. He hates it all. The praise, the attention, the spotlight—it only puts me further out of his reach.
After a few tense days, I cave slightly, agreeing to work from home. He needs rest, not more stress. But as the week goes on, I realize my new problem is much worse—the way Connor watches me from across the room every time I pick up the phone.
His gaze is heated, hungry, intense. A dangerous distraction.
On Friday, he finally breaks. The second my call ends, Connor grabs the back of my chair, spinning it around roughly until I'm facing him. I gasp, startled, but he doesn't hesitate. His good hand fists my hair, pulling me toward him until our mouths collide.
His kiss is fierce, possessive, relentless. I moan against him as his good hand slides up my chest, cupping my breast firmly through the thin fabric of my shirt. My thoughts scatter, my pulse hammering violently as he devours my mouth like a starving man.
When he finally pulls back, eyes wild and blazing, his voice is a low growl against my lips. "I want you. Right now."
"You're supposed to be resting," I breathe, my protest weak as his thumb brushes my nipple, sending heat shooting straight down my spine. "You're still hurt—"
He smirks, wicked and dark, eyes flashing with desire. "I don't need my shoulders to fuck you, Cali. Especially if you're on top, exactly where you belong after spending all week bossing people around."
My breath hitches, heat pooling deep in my belly. He's right—it's exactly what I want, too.
"I...I have another meeting," I whisper weakly, struggling to hold onto the last thread of my control.
Connor smirks, dropping to his knees in front of me, his eyes dark and filled with promises I shouldn't let him keep. "Even if it’s a video call, they won’t see your skirt pushed up around your hips," he murmurs roughly, his hands sliding under the fabric, pushing it higher. "They won’t see your panties tossed aside."
He drags my underwear down my thighs, pulling me abruptly to the edge of the chair. His teeth sink into my inner thigh, sharp enough to make me gasp. "But they'll definitely see my marks all over your sinful little body."
I shudder, arching back against the chair, my thoughts dissolving with every kiss, every possessive bite he trails higher. "No one...no one looks there," I whisper breathlessly.
"Good," Connor growls, his voice deep, hungry, dangerous. "Because these gorgeous thighs, this perfect pussy, your incredible tits—they’re mine, Cali. Every fucking inch."
I nod weakly, the meeting entirely forgotten, my mind consumed by Connor’s mouth between my legs. He eats me out like he always does—perfectly. Each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue on my clit, each teasing flick at my entrance drives me closer to madness. He edgesme relentlessly, building the pressure until I’m trembling beneath him, right on the razor-sharp edge of coming apart.
He pushes me to the edge and keeps me there, holding me suspended in a place where only his lips, tongue, and touch exist. His hands grip my ass, urging me closer, holding me exactly how he needs me.
I moan loudly, hips grinding shamelessly against his face, desperate for release. My fingers dig sharply into his hair, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. His groan vibrates through me, and I shatter instantly—pleasure crashing violently through every nerve until my vision darkens and my thighs shake uncontrollably.
He doesn’t stop until every last ripple of pleasure leaves me panting and spent. I sink back, trembling, breathless, barely able to hold myself up. Connor grins wickedly, his lips glistening as he slowly rises to his feet, towering over me. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes burning darkly into mine.
“I could do that every day and never get enough,” he growls, voice rough and heavy.
A breathless laugh escapes me. "How much more do you want?"
"All of you." His grin sharpens, heat flaring in his gaze. "Can you stand?"
I nod weakly, legs still unsteady. Connor pulls me up carefully, taking my place in the chair. Without breaking eye contact, he shoves his jeans down just enough, freeing himself, thick and hard, waiting. My breath catches, need curling tighter as I step closer.
He guides me onto his lap, turning me so my back presses flush against his chest, the heat of his body warming every inch of mine. He slides inside me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely, stealing my breath. I gasp, head falling back onto his shoulder, arm hooking around his neck instinctively for balance.
The reminder for my meeting flashes brightly on the computer screen in front of us.
"Fifteen minutes," I whisper breathlessly, rolling my hips against him, feeling every inch stretch and claim me.
Connor’s fingers tighten possessively on my hips, pulling me firmly against him. His mouth brushes my ear, voice rough and demanding, sending heat spiraling through my veins. "Then ride me fast, Angel. Show me how badly you still want me—broken shoulder, damaged reputation, and all."
I shiver at his words, my body clenching around him instinctively, needing more. Wanting everything he’s offering, no matter how reckless, how risky.
