Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(108)

“The Horror House?” he questions, then shakes his head. “The letters aren’t important.”

“How could they not be important?”

He lifts a shoulder. “What we have can’t be simplified down to a couple of letters, Bella. I want you to want me because you’re everything I need.”

My skin prickles along with the hot tears. “I can’t give you anything.” I’ve never been able to. Mickey has always been the one to provide for me, chase the monsters away so I can sleep easier at night. All I’ve ever been able to truly give him is my fractured heart.

“You’re all I want.” His soft lips brush against mine, and I don’t hesitate to chase them. But it hurts because, even though I know he would never leave, I could have been so much better to him.

“I can’t give you dinner at six. I can’t wear a pretty dress and be as beautiful as you think I am, when all I want to do is disappear underneath the covers. I’m not this sensual goddess that can give you sex appeal.” Gesturing to the fraying bed behind me, I say, “I can’t even give you clean sheets.” I don’t know what it’s like to live when I’m not under a thumb, scared of the creaks in my own home.

“Who said I want any of that?”

“Everyone wants that,” I whisper, suddenly doubting why I’m still fighting him, when all I’ve ever really wanted to be is complete and by his side.

Hands curl around the backs of my thighs, lifting me so I wrap my legs around his waist. The stiff bed groans as he lies me down, towering over me as he runs the back of his knuckles along my jaw and whispers against my lips. “I want every single thing you are willing to give. I want takeout with you at midnight. Sleep-ins and sleepless nights. I want you crying, and I want you smiling, no matter the reason for either of those two things. I just want you, Isabella, whether it’s on an unmade bed or the forest floor. You’re all I need.” He kisses my wet cheeks. “You don’t know what I want, even though you’ve already given me everything I need.”





Chapter 32





ISABELLA





My lips meet his, and I give him everything I have to offer. My soul, heart, and body. All of it swells and explodes, feeling too big for my little self to take.

That’s one thing about Mickey. We were never made for the silent type of love. We were made for the kind that shatters windows and breaks the earth’s surface. It’s fireworks and dancing and lime juice mixed with absinthe.

This time, he isn’t the one claiming with our kisses. I’m his just as much as he is mine. Our lips move in sync, labored breaths filling the space in between.

I claw at his t-shirt covered back, needing to feel his bare skin against mine like it’s the only thing that could keep me alive. He chuckles darkly as he rips his shirt over his head, tearing mine off before my heart can take another beat.

The cold air prickles my skin, pebbling my nipples into sensitive points as they ache under his heated stare. He doesn’t give me time to acclimatize before my shorts and panties disappear into the corner of the room.

His gunmetal eyes turn pitch black, as if possessed by a demon, descending on my core, devouring me like I’m the closest thing to food he’ll ever find.

Holy shit.

By my count, he’s only done this once, which doesn’t explain how he’s so good at this. Every time he licks along my entrance, my breath catches. Each time he takes my sensitive clit in his mouth, I see stars. He’s playing me like a professional who has done this for years.

“You’re stunning, baby girl.”

My back arches into his touch, begging for more. He licks and kisses and sucks like he’s never tasted me before, and he’s starved for seconds. The darkening gaze of his predatory eyes holds me hostage as two fingers slip inside me.

“Mickey,” I cry, my body arching from the bed as my hands latch onto his hair.

He doesn’t let up, sucking my clit while pumping his fingers in and out of me until the evidence of my arousal covers his face and hands. He keeps hitting that spot.

That spot.

The one that sends a thousand fiery butterflies fluttering through my veins, lighting me up like a firework. Hundreds upon hundreds of blinding sensations zip through my marrow. Tension builds and multiplies in my stomach, tightening around his fingers, layer upon layer of pleasure and pressure bringing me a taste of heaven as I scream out his name.

Until suddenly, it disappears.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey gasps, taking his fingers with him when he stands back.

My eyes widen, and my muscles wound tight as I snap upright. “What?”

Did I do something wrong? Does he find me… gross? Maybe it’s too much for him in the light, or he needs more time to get used to being between my legs? Or… it could just be a cramp. I mean, he’s been going at it pretty hard, right?

My gaze trails over the moisture covering his face and dripping down his chest. A splatter of dark wet patches stains his jeans. Slowly, I look down at the sheets between my legs. Soaked.

Mortification colors my skin bright red. Oh, God. What have I done? Why did I have to do that? Oh, shit, shit, shit, he must be grossed out. I can’t even look at him. What does he think about me now? This has to be at the top of my list of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever done in front of him.