I Spy a Wicked Sin

peculiar warmth that quickly became pleasure, spreading tendrils of heat to her clit. The bud throbbed as a second finger joined the first, stretching her bit by bit.

He shifted and his tongue laved her slit, soft and warm.

“Oh!”

Lily couldn’t help but arch into him, swept away by the naughty act-a man finger-fucking her ass while eating her from behind. Her body hummed, the sensations almost too much.

“You have such a sweet cunt, baby,” he whispered against the bare lips of her sex. “Juicy like a ripe peach. Want me to eat your peach, baby?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

The rasp of his tongue against her skin fanned the flames higher. Then it dipped between her folds, licking at her cream, fucking her channel in tempo with the fingers tunneling in her ass. Angling his head, he found her clit and fastened his mouth to the nub, suckling, shorting out her nerve endings.

“Jude,” she gasped. “Oh, God, I’m going to come!”

“You’ll come on my cock, honey. Wait for me.” His fingers left her ass, and the condom wrapper crinkled.

Grasping her hips, he positioned the head of his cock between her soaked pussy lips and began to push into her channel. His rod was scorching hot, stretching her impossibly wide, filling her as she’d never been filled before.

“Goddamn, you’re tight and you’re so small,” he groaned. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, don’t stop.”

“Thank God.”

He continued in a slow, sensuous glide, until they were locked together, groin to ass. His balls were snuggled against her sex, fingers digging into her flesh. His cock was a torch inside her, setting them both aflame.

“Fuck me, Jude. Oh, please…” Was that her voice, begging?

“Shit, yeah. But I’m not going to last long.”

“Just do it!”

He pulled out to the head, pushed in again, slow, torturing them both. Out, slow, then in. She backed into him, impaling herself, urging him to go faster, give them what they needed.

His strokes became harder, deeper. They panted together, bodies slapping as he fucked her fast and hard now, driving her mindless. Nothing mattered but his cock hammering into her, claiming her as his.

Her clit began to pulse and her orgasm exploded. “Oh, yes! Jude!”

With a guttural cry, he buried his cock deep and held there, heat spilling into her. Her sex convulsed around him, milking every last drop as his big body shuddered again and again.

At last, he pulled out with a sigh of regret. Wrung- out, she flopped onto her back and watched him remove the condom, tie it off, and pitch it over the side of the bed.

When he lay beside her and opened his arms, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to cuddle against his side and pillow her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“Being with you was even more awesome that I imagined it would be,” he said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.”

“Same here, and no thanks necessary. I don’t plan on it being the last time.”

He chuckled. “Woman after my own heart.”

For some reason, Lily’s throat tightened and something hitched in the region of her heart. Sex had never made her so emotional before.

It couldn’t be because he was the most extraordinary man-not to mention lover-she’d ever met.

Or because he was nothing she’d been told to expect.

And certainly not because he’d put her comfort above his own lust.

“Jude?”

“Mmm?”

“When you asked me if you were hurting me… if I’d said yes, would you have stopped?”

“What?” He sounded surprised by the question. “Of course I would have. Contrary to what you might believe, I do think of others besides myself. I take care of the people close to me.”

She swallowed hard. “I apologize. I suppose I’m not used to a man like you.”

“Whatever that means.” He snorted, hugging her close. “And I will find out what’s wrong with Liam, now that I’m fully aware something’s up.”

“I shouldn’t have implied otherwise,” she said.

“No worries. Let’s take a nap before we face the rest of the day, shall we?”

“Okay.”

Listening to Jude’s heart thump under her ear, Lily realized she’d never felt so safe in her entire life. So complete.

Or so hopelessly confused.

This man was a good man, one worthy of respect. Love. This man deserved to have a life, based on who he was now.

But what about the monster he was before?

Lily drifted off with visions of blood, death, and heartbreak tormenting her mind.

Seven

Jude leaned forward on his stool, arm sweeping bold, angry strokes across the canvas.

“Jude, are you attacking that thing or painting?” Somewhere in front of him, Tamara wiggled on her mound of pillows. He felt her curious stare, heard the concern hidden behind the humor in her voice.

“Damned if I know.” Frustrated, he set aside his brush. “This isn’t working.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t think so.” He hung his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. Today, she couldn’t hope to touch the darkness inside him, threatening to swallow him whole. Making love with Lily yesterday had earned him a brief and much-welcome reprieve. Last night, however, had brought horror to his dreams again.

Hold up-is that what Lily and I did? Made love?

As he tried to wrap his mind around that idea, slender arms snaked around his neck. Tamara pushed close, maneuvering to stand between his knees, pressed her breasts to his chest.

“Are you sure? I bet I can find a cure for that sad face,” she said, almost purring.

“I’m sure you could, but…”

Clever fingers unsnapped his cargo shorts, burrowed inside to grasp his cock. She kissed his jaw, rubbed against him like a cat, skillfully played with him. A nice buzz began in his groin and he became half-hard.

And then nothing. He couldn’t dredge up the desire to give her what she sought, and it wasn’t fair to drag her into the pit with his black mood. Gently, he disentangled himself and removed her questing hand from his shorts.

“Sorry, beautiful, I’m not good company and I’m sure not getting anything accomplished. Rain check?”

“If that’s what you want,” she said with a tinge of disappointment. “Call me?”

“Sure.”

Neither of them believed he would.

As soon as she dressed and left, he tossed aside the almost-completed nude she’d been posing for, grabbed a blank canvas, and let his demons loose.

He ditched the soft flesh and earth tones for tints of red and orange, shades of black. What he couldn’t see with his eyes, his mind saw clearly enough: rivers of blood, broken bodies, brain matter, vacant eyes.

The weight of a ghost rifle replaced the brush to fill his hands, familiar and terrible. As awful as the knowledge that he was capable of taking out his target from a mile away and vanishing before anyone was the wiser.

Is this what I am?

A killer? A monster?

Why is this happening to me?

Pressure built in his chest, constricting his lungs as he slashed at the canvas, too massive to contain. Pushing outward, crushing him, until the rage exploded.

“Why?” he bellowed.

Grabbing the wooden frame, he smashed the canvas over the easel and kicked it, sending the whole structure flying. He whirled, subjecting his table full of paints, brushes, palettes, and thinners to the same treatment. They hit