Sin Eater (17 page)

He grunted, but he kept his eyes on hers, like he was gauging for any sign she was freaking out. But she wasn’t. She rolled her hips forward slightly, feeling the friction and then taking him in again.

“Oh Claudia,” he groaned, his breath starting to sound incredibly ragged. “You are … sublime.”

“Is this right? Tell me what to do,” she knew it sounded like begging. Again.

He took firm hold on her hips, raising her weight off of him, then he pushed upwards while lowering her down. The sensation made her breath come out almost like a sob.  Then he did it again, correcting the angle this time. As he hit the mark she cried out, holding his hands where they were and trying to get him to speed up. But he resisted her.

Claudia felt frustration but it vanished as soon as he reached that same spot again. She closed her eyes, feeling him inside her, but also becoming aware of how she was letting him in. How she allowed him to fit.

Another thrust and he grunted, and she opened her eyes to notice with satisfaction that he was on the verge of coming himself, the same tightness in his face that he’d had when she’d gone down on him earlier. She rocked her hips against him and he moaned, opening his eyes and smiling at her.

“You think you’re ready to be in charge now?”

She nodded, licking her lips. When he growled and let go of her hips, she began moving on her own, throwing her head back and letting herself find the pace that felt …
good
. And right. He didn’t say anything or make a sound, she may as well have been on her own exploring her own body. And that made her affection for him swell even more.

Her pace increased almost like she had nothing to do with it, and she braced herself by putting her hands on his strong chest, his hips meeting hers at the same pace. Now she’d lost some of that control, but that was … that was why she came.

Her nails dug in as he bellowed with her, her legs tensing, her head going back on its own as she called out his name.

She rocked over him throughout her orgasm, and when she felt the last of the shudders he pulled her down against him, rolling over on to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked sincerely.

“That was … amazing,” she said honestly, the ability to breathe just barely returning.

“Are you sore?”

“No.”

He pushed his hips upward and she realized he was still hard. “Oh,” she said in surprise, freezing him.

“Something wrong?”

She smiled, putting her hand to the side of his face. “No, not at all. I thought … I thought you finished.”

He smiled almost wickedly, rocking back and forth
into her again. The push and drag made her bite her lip, and she was amazed her body was back on board for another go already.  But then again, he seemed to know all the right buttons to push with her.

“My dear Claudia,” he said slowly, drawing out a kiss while thrusting a few more times until she was panting again. “You will definitely know when I finish.”

This had been Essum’s next stop, and he’d arrived at a great time. The lesbian woman was really broadening her horizons.

He didn’t take form and materialize right in the room with them, but he stayed to watch. God, he really missed the fucking. And this woman’s tits were fantastic. He would’ve given up eternity at that point to switch places with Voro, the lucky asshole. And the prick seemed to have gotten quite
good
at this. The woman was in total rapture as she climaxed, completely unable to control her body, and the heat of her arousal was like a freaking sun flare against his senses.

And the smell of chocolate … god, he’d forgotten how good they smelled during sex.

Now she was underneath his old friend, both of them shameless and lost in lust, his friend’s back bare to him, his ass the piston of what was pumping into and out of the woman under him, the sounds coming out of her telling him everything he needed to know. And his friend’s thoughts were clear to him; fuck yeah, she felt as good as she looked.

Well, there was certainly
this
to look forward to. He would inherit
all
of Voro’s tricks and knowledge. And once he’d had some fun with Voro’s
frustro
, he was coming after this dyke next.

Iola put the rice in the oven to keep it warm, and was just about to start her stir fry when she heard Claudia’s apartment door creak open. She almost had control of her curiosity, but then of course that control totally withered and she ran back to her apartment door to watch out the peep hole.

Five o’clock at night and they were finally out of bed. But Claudia was only in her nightshirt, her long, thick hair tousled at her back of her head, up on her tiptoes as Damien Talon was kissing her good bye. He had his suit coat over one arm, and her wrapped up in the other one. It was one of those hot, sexy and steamy kisses that could only come after really,
really
good and sweaty sex. The kiss that promised more of the same.

She watched her friend writhe against him, her hips against his, one leg raised up behind her, and he was holding himself right against her, grinding
into her.

Iola put a hand to her throat. The sight of him, no matter what he was doing, had heat flooding
into her cheeks. And Claudia looked so incredibly … gorgeous. Even a bed-headed and underdressed as she was, Iola had never seen her so …
glowy
. God … he must be fabulous.

When Damien raised his head, smiling down at Claudia, then dropping one more kiss to her pouty but smiling lips, Iola looked away. She couldn’t stand herself for spying like that, and she tiptoed back to her kitchen to continue making supper. For the
date
she had.
Remember Vinnie?

She put the chicken in the pan to cook, then finished chopping up the peppers. When she heard Claudia’s door close, that’s when she felt her back finally relax.  He was leaving the building. She wouldn’t hear them, echoing out of her bedroom, filling
her
apartment with the sounds of how fantastic
they
were in bed together. Oh thank god … it was quiet.

While it had been going on she put on her earplugs and listened to her iPod for a while, but she always found herself turning it down to eavesdrop. She told herself it was to see if they were done yet, but the truth was she was a bit sick in the head. Because she was listening for Damien’s voice. And sort of getting turned on by it.

She was such a degenerate.

She chopped faster, stirred the chicken around, and went to her room to change. She wanted to look good, just in case Vinnie got there early, although, of course, that was highly unlikely.

She put on a mid-length black skirt and a red top she liked to wear because it made her feel skinny, and she thought it gave the illusion of breasts as well. The front had a plunging cowl neck to it, and the rest of it sat nicely along her hips and waist. The back was open, too.

Then she hurried back to move the chicken to a bowl and put it in the ove
n to keep warm. She would wait a while before doing the vegetables, just so they wouldn’t get limp.

She set the table next, even laying out a tablecloth she’d forgotten she had. She found one beeswax candle in a drawer and put it in a holder in the centre of the table, next to the tulips Vinnie had brought the night before. The closer it got to
6:30, the more excited she became. When there was a knock at the door, she flew there quickly, opening it wide without looking to see who it was, and thoroughly frightened Claudia.

“Oh … oh, sorry. Hi Claudia.”

“Hey Iola. What’s up?” Her friend looked her up and down, and Iola found it strange considering Claudia had spent much of the day loudly convincing her she was
totally
straight.

Well, that was bitchy. Where’d that come from?

Iola smiled. “What’s up?”

“I’m just heading to work. Are you … are you going on another date?”

Iola shrugged, unable to read Claudia’s voice. Her friend gave off an air of being totally blissed out, her afterglow was almost unbearable, and yet it sounded like
she
might be … jealous?

“Vinnie’s coming over for supper. I saw him today at the supermarket.”

Claudia smiled, genuinely pleased. “Well, good. I hope he’s good to you. I just was just letting you know that I … work tonight.”

Iola nodded, and as Claudia was heading off she had to stop her. “Claudia?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that … was that Damien I was hearing?”

Her tough-as-nails neighbour actually blushed. “Oh shit. Could you … could you hear that?” Iola felt a strange emotion she couldn’t place to see the flush of pleasure sweep across Claudia’s gorgeous face. A look that had been caused by someone else.

Iola felt embarrassed now, too. “Ummm … yeah.”

“Like … every word?”

She hadn’t heard words. She’d heard moans and grunts and cries of delight and squeaking springs and banging headboards. “Well, not
every
word but … what’s going on?”

Claudia laughed, covering her face. “I don’t know. I think I … fell off the wagon.”

“Like, the Lesbian Wagon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah … it
was
pretty ‘wow.’ But I’m sure you could tell.”

Iola gave a naughty little smile. “You owe me. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. I hope to be returning the favour soon.”

Claudia just waved a hand at her. “Have fun tonight, Iola.”

“Thanks. You too. Be safe.”

“I will.”

She watched Claudia down the hall and then shut her door. Damn, she couldn’t decide if she was jealous of Claudia … or
Damien
.

When he’d watched Claudia shut her apartment door, he’d turned away to head back down the hall to the stairwell. He hadn’t expected to smell
her
in the hall.

Voro stopped outside Iola’s door, inhaling deeply. Jasmine and vanilla, unmistakably her. She’d been on the other side of this door … and had she watched them? The faint trace of chocolate gave him hope that she had. And that the kiss he’d shared with Claudia had excited her.

Then Essum’s warning had come back, and he quickened his pace down the hall and the stairs to the fresh air outside. Iola’s function was to bring him right into the hands of someone that would kill his mortal body, sending him back to darkness for eternity. Shouldn’t that be warning enough? Did he not have the ability to be with whoever he wanted? Was there really anything that could be better than the ease with which he could satiate every hunger he had?

Did he need to be anywhere near Iola?

Of course he did, for one reason only; because he
couldn’t
have her.

The nature of a Sin Eater. Everything came easy to them, if something presented a challenge, they were worse than a dog with a bone.

He should really get some work done anyway. There were sins that had to be released. But first, he had to change.

He drove his Beamer back to his hotel, made his way up to the room Portia was nice enough to pay for, and let himself in with a key card. It was dark, the blinds were closed.

As soon as he stepped inside he could smell cayenne pepper, and without looking up or turning on a light in the room he just said, “Hello, Portia.”

The scent of pepper intensified as she flew across the room at him
, hitting him from behind into the table next to the door. Her fists pounded his back almost enough to knock the wind out of him.

“You bastard … you fucking bastard. Where have you been?”

He turned to catch her hands, and she stopped swinging. He turned on a light overhead, just in time to see that she was crying … and incredibly drunk. And she really smelled like his three thousand dollar cognac.

“Portia, what is it?”

“I came here last night and I waited for you. And you never came back, this is the first time you’ve been here. Housekeeping didn’t even have to come back today, I checked. Where the
fuck
were you?”

“Portia, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” He was trying to get
into her head but she was so furious her mind was swirling uncontrollably and she was drunk besides, so any train of thought he did pick up on suddenly changed course halfway through. Something about her bitch of a sister, the younger, prettier one. The one that had been a cheerleader.

“Chrissy,” she wept. “That little shit sister of mine. She’s getting fucking
married
.”

“Isn’t that good?” Fuck, he was really working without his net here. As soon as he said it her entire vision turned red with anger.

“How can that be
good?”
She spat, stalking away. “She’s eight years younger than I am.”

Shit
. If she hadn’t been drunk he could have seen this coming. This was in the realm of a “relationship” conversation, and he was really not interested.

“Getting married at twenty-four. She must be fucking
retarded.
”
Portia went back to the armchair where she’d apparently been self-medicating. For a while now.

“Did you leave me any?” He asked wryly, tossing his coat on a hook in the entryway. Then he had to duck because she threw a glass at him.
“Fuck,
Portia,” he stammered, putting a hand to his chest like an old lady. The glass rained on to the thick-pile carpet at his feet and he stepped over it.

“Relax, it was empty.” She flopped
into her chair, and he came into the sitting area, flipping on a light switch that worked the floor lamp behind her. She cringed, but before she could bitch at him he was already talking.

“You can’t really be jealous that she’s getting married, moving to a suburb and popping out kids while her husband nails his secretary?” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. The presence of insanity usually raised the temperature of a room, especially when the blinds were closed. Voro would have killed her to get a window open.

“He’s a Boy Scout for Pete’s sake. He’s madly in love with her. If anything, he should be suspect of
his
parentage for any of their children.”

“So what is this then?” His voice was calming her down, and he was getting the impression that she’d really been needled by her mother more than her sister.

“Mother called,” she drawled out, tossing back some more cognac. He winced. She was drinking it like a Pepsi. “She says it’s nice to have a daughter that isn’t going to let the bloodline down.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sister's going to give her
grandbabies
to carry on our idiotic lineage. That’s what she’s so pleased about. Nothing else I could have done would have topped that.”

“You’re running a Fortune 500 company.”

“I know.”

“You make more income than your parents ever could.”

“
Trust
me, I know.”

“So your mother can just go … fuck herself.” He stood in front of her now, undoing the cuffs of his shirt. He felt her emit a blast of heat.
Now
he was talking her language.

“What did you just say?”

The scent of chocolate made him smile down at her. “Your mother can go fuck herself.”

She grabbed his belt buckle, leaned forward and pulled him to her. “Say that again.”

“She can go fuck herself.”

Then she fisted him right in the crotch and he doubled over, tripping as his shoes got caught up on the carpet and landed on his ass on the ground at her feet.

“Who the hell is that?’

“Who?” He gasped, cupping himself and bowling over sideways. He thought he was going to throw up.

“Who is it that I’m smelling all over you? It’s Alfred Sung. I know; I used to wear it. Who is she?” She was clenching and unclenching her fists. He was going to have to work harder to anticipate her mood.

“Fuck Portia. I think you broke it.”

“Good. Now tell me where you were or I will cut you off.”

He clenched his hand tighter on his manhood. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I meant money, asshole. God, that piece of flesh is really the most important thing to you men, isn’t it?”

He eased himself back up to a sitting position carefully. “Isn’t it the only reason you want
me
?”

He had her there, but there was no victory in it. N
ot if she cut off his money flow. Of course, given his talents he could always get money. But this way was … okay, he liked their arrangement, too. He’d admit it.

But never to her.

She was wearing a navy blue blouse and a light grey skirt, office attire that he liked very much on her. He reached out and pulled off her heels, tossing them towards the door, then got up on his knees in front of her. He took her glass, poured a serving of cognac out for her, took a swallow himself, then handed the glass to her. She watched him the whole, time, breathing through parted lips.