The Sinner's Club [18+]

chapter twelve.

"ARE YOU SURE you want this, sweetheart?"

I am wet and aching, my knees pressing together in an attempt to abate the need coursing through me.

"I want this," I tell him. Reaper cups my face with big hands, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.

When he leans down and kisses me, it's soft, gentle...not at all what I expect.

He presses his body into mine until I am forced back onto the bed, the mattress sinking beneath our shared weight.

I am lost in the feel of his stubble rubbing against my skin as he kisses along my jawline.

His hands slide behind me, dragging down the zipper on my dress. I am more hurried than he seems to be—probably pent up sexual frustration. I yank my dress down my arms and shimmy out of it. A huff of embarrassment leaves me when I see I am dressed in the most boring, plain white bra and underwear to ever exist. After weeks of being exposed to elaborate and gorgeous lingerie sets at the club, this feels very underwhelming.

My cheeks heat and I stammer, "Sorry, I wasn't...I should've..."

"Amelia." He presses his forehead to mine. "I don't want fancy fucking outfits. I just want you."

I cling to him, burying my face in his shoulder as he unhooks my bra and slides down my underwear, leaving me naked.

"Take this off." I pull at his shirt. He sits up slightly to yank it over his head and discard it to the side. For a minute or so, all I can do is stare at him. I have never been with a man like this before, with such thick, corded muscles and black tattoos spreading almost everywhere. He has some kind of crest with script in Latin inked over his heart and a pair of silver dog tags hanging from his neck. I skim my hands over every part of him that I can reach. His solid shoulders and chest, his abs and around to his toned back. He lets me explore freely, hardly moving beneath my roaming hands. When I grip his belt and pull his hips forward, his eyes shutter closed.

"Amelia," he groans, almost like a warning.

"I don't want you to hold back," I pant. His hands are fisted in the sheets either side of my head and his arms shake with the effort it seems to take to stop himself from...well, doing whatever it is he wants to do to me. "We just have to be quiet."

"I can be quiet," he murmurs, a hand lifting to rest beneath my chin, his thumb dragging over my bottom lip. "Can you?"

He presses his erection down into me, the rough fabric of his jeans harsh against my bare pussy. A strangled moan escapes me and I quickly slam my mouth closed, trying to swallow it.

His nose runs along my jawline. "Or do I have to make you be quiet?"

I nod quickly, knowing I won't be able to contain my cries. He kisses my cheek softly and then cups one of my breasts, twisting my nipple. Right before a whine can leave me, he clamps a hand across my mouth, successfully silencing me.

"Do you have any idea how fucking difficult it was to watch you up on that stage with Sterling?" He growls into my ear. "Watching you come and cry out his fucking name?"

The hand over my face tightens almost to the point of pain. There is an undercurrent of anger and...possessiveness in his words.

He lowers his head and takes my other nipple into his mouth, sucking and scraping his teeth over it. I push up into him, though his grip on my mouth keeps my head anchored to the pillow.

I wrap my legs around him completely, grinding against him in desperation.

He snakes a hand down, between us, and dips a finger into me. Yes, yes, yes. Rubbing up and down my slit, pushing into me then circling my clit.