Scars of Silk: A Tears of Ink - Novel Page 8

  There’s a soft chuckle. “Sienna Richards, keeping it real.”

  “I’m tired of all this shit. So many lies. So many secrets. Dad told Scott Harrington that Will was busy this afternoon, and that’s why he couldn’t make dinner. Busy, Elijah? He’s been dead for eight years.”

  “Sienna, your father is an arsehole. I don’t know why you put yourself through it.”

  “Because I can’t leave Mum.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe she’s made choices too. We’ve all made bad choices, haven’t we?”

  “Go home, Eli. Just go home.”

  “I can’t. I need her to understand her fear and then come and find me.”

  I shake my head which he can’t see, but I know he knows I’m doing it.

  “Listen, I’ve got a list of childhood friends from Dan. I’m starting tomorrow, this weekend has been a cock up.”

  “Sienna, I love you, and your work. But I don’t think it’s going to make much difference. Her own father has made a statement against her.”

  “Dan said it was about the shop and about the money? What if her dad got the money or the shop?”

  “I doubt Dan would part with it; it’s his life, the one he shared with Faith.”

  “Jeez, you need to stop sucking on those bitter lemons. I’ll talk to him. Maybe he’ll consider it.”

  “Hmm.”

  Another pause.

  “How come you know so much about Dan Smith suddenly?”

  “I told you. It’s been a bad weekend.”

  “Yeah, try to top mine!”

  “Dan is in an underground fighting ring. He nearly got killed on Friday. I think if I hadn’t arrived, he would have died.”

  “Why did you arrive?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you arrive?”

  “I was working for you, you dickhead.”

  “Late on a Friday night?”

  “Oh shut up.”

  He chuckles again. “At least you aren’t crying now. What are you going to do about your dad?”

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants to run away and never see him again.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “I can’t. The price is too high.”

  Eli pauses for a moment. “I’m thinking the price is always too high to pay.”

  “Go home.”

  “Believe me, I want to.”

  “So, go home.”

  We hang up and I stare at the ceiling for a long moment. The refrigerator hums in the background, but I know it’s empty. The whole place is empty.

  Jumping up, I grab my keys. My mind isn’t sure where it wants to go, but I have a feeling I know the direction it wants to head in.

  Nine

  Dan

  The TV is flickering blue-tinged lights across the room. It’s dark outside and I’ve got the curtains drawn. Maybe because I don’t want people knowing I’m watching The X Factor and secondly, I’d rather Vinny didn’t know I was home.

  I don’t know. Maybe I overreacted this morning. Maybe he’ll never know it was me. Well, not me per se but you know what they say about guilt by association. After Sienna left, it only took me three minutes to discover she’d cleared out Dad’s cabinet in his en suite. My nerves rattled like a rusty chain until I looked in the mirror and saw the state I’ve got myself into. The fact a complete stranger, a one-night hook-up has put herself on suicide watch had a powerful impact.

  I need to fight this. I’ve got to.

  Three times today, with my senses painfully awake, I’ve had my phone in my hand to call Faith and tell her I’m sorry. Sorry for being an arsehole, but also sorry for not being a good friend.

  I’ve sat in the armchair staring at the couch we slept on the night of Dad’s funeral. I can tell myself for all it’s worth it was the best night of my life… but was it? Two broken people breaking things even further.

  It takes a few moments for me to focus on the hum of a car outside. My pulse spikes which is total overkill.

  Trying to keep my groaning to a minimum as I stand up; the bruises, cuts, and hell knows what else making every part of me hurt, I edge to the window. Pushing back the curtains just a millimetre, I stare out into the wintery gloom. Outside, a silver Mercedes idles against the curb, lights off, but the engine still running.

  A grin smirks its way across my face and I turn for the door, heading out barefoot onto the cold pavement.

  I tap on her passenger window making her jump, before ducking my head down lower to peer through the window. Jesus, is she crying?

  What is it with chicks turning up here crying? Faith always did it, and now this hot-headed brunette is taking it up. Maybe it’s me?

  I open the door and lift an eyebrow, choosing to ignore the wash of emotions that flood out. She wipes at her face and shudders a breath. “You know, you’re killing the ozone out here with the engine running?”

  Her lips curve a little. “I haven’t decided if I’m coming in or not yet.”

  “Well you’re here, so I’m thinking you are more decided than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I’ve booked into the Metropole down the road.”

  “Nice. I hear it’s got a good spa.”

  She turns then. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her skin pale beneath her dark hair. She’s shadows and moonlight all at once. “Want to come with me?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Darling, I’ve got a whole house right here.”

  Her dark-green gaze falls onto my face and I cringe at the way it eats into me, like she’s reading a flipping poster on a wall. “Don’t you ever just want to get away?”

  I’m ready with a comeback: my bed is all she needs; something shite and corny. But her expression and her question make me pause the stupidity about to come out of my mouth.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see the white PVC front door to my house—my dad’s house.

  “Wait right there.”

  Without another word, I step back into the house and switch off the TV. Then I run up the stairs and grab a change of clothes.

  She’s still there, engine still running, her eyes staring at something far away. I slip into the car and she pulls off, neither of us saying a word.

  We are still in silence at the check in at the Metropole. It’s as fancy on the inside as I’d always guessed, an elevator taking us from the underground car park to the lobby.

  “You’ve only paid for one occupant.” The woman behind the reception desk looks at us through the lenses of her glasses.

  Sienna just hands over a shiny credit card which the woman takes and swipes before handing over two key cards. “The restaurant serves dinner until ten p.m. Breakfast is from six thirty till nine thirty. Room service is available twenty-four hours. If you have any queries, please call down and we will help as best we can.” The woman’s attention slides over to me. Her stare—which is as subtle as a sledgehammer—glancing over my bruises and ink. There’s a lot of both for her to see.

  “Street fight,” I tell her, and I catch Sienna’s lips quirking at the edges. It does something to me on the inside. I get this small swell in my chest, some place around my ribcage, when I know I’ve made her react to me.

  She grabs the cards and walks for the lift, leaving me to walk behind, my eyes unashamedly watching the sway of her long legs. She’s getting a lot of attention; the passing bellboys and staff cast her glances, but she’s oblivious. One guy even steps up. “Can I help you with your bags, Miss?”

  Fuck off arsehole.

  “No need.” I elbow him out of the way and grab at her bag. She gives it over almost in a dreamlike state. She has no clue at all as to the reaction she creates in the opposite sex. She reminds me a bit of Faith in that way.

  Give it up, Dan. For God's sake, give it up.

  We wait for the lift and get in; Sienna pressing all the buttons and doing the thing with the card. You have to put the card in to get the lift to move. It’s been a long time since I stayed in a hotel, and I don’t think a t
wo star in Ibiza really counts.

  “Are we going to talk about why you were crying?” I ask as soon as the doors shut. “Specifically, why you were crying sitting in your car outside my house.”

  Those wide, almond-shaped eyes blink up at me. Her lips part but she still doesn’t say a damn thing.

  I lift my brows and wait, crossing my hands across my chest. We watch one another. The air gets tight, hotter, tangible almost.

  When the doors open, I grab our bags and follow her to room four hundred and eleven.

  It’s a nice room, clean and spacious. There’s a big TV mounted on the wall opposite a bed so large I could lie sideways in it.

  She chucks the key cards on the side and then turns to face me, blowing a strand of her fringe off of her face.

  “Are you going to say anything at all?” The more I speak, the more of an idiot I feel. Does she even want me here?

  “Fuck me.”

  What did she say?

  “Fuck me,” she repeats.

  “I thought it was a onetime only deal?”

  “You wouldn’t be here if you thought it was.”

  That’s true, I think. I don’t know what I’m doing here.

  I step closer. Her eyes, they stare at me, every move. Her lip pulls in between her teeth and I know I will give her what she wants. She’s just walked through a hotel of men who would have fallen at her feet. And I’m the one she said that to. Fuck me.

  My hands slide into her hair, cradling the nape of her neck until the weight of her head rests in my palm and I can tilt her mouth to mine.

  She tastes warm and sweet. A river of energy floods from my lips down to my dick. It stiffens, twitching at the mere taste of her. “You know I’m injured here,” I murmur against her mouth.

  “Take it slow.” Her eyes flutter shut, and it’s as though she’s giving herself over to me. She gave me her wishes. First to fuck her. Second to take it slow. The rest of it is up to me. She’s submitting to me.

  A burning desire ripples through every cell of my body. This beautiful woman is handing herself over to me on a plate. Locking the memory of her crying into the back of my mind—just for now—I determine to give her what she needs. What she’s craving. Maybe I’ll find what I need by giving it to her.

  “Lift your arms.” I watch as she does what I ask, my dick straining against my jeans as she holds her arms in the air. Now I’m not a Dom, hell no, more of a shove it in and thrust until I come; but seeing her compliant and eager is the biggest turn on I’ve ever had. I lift her top, pulling it up over her breasts and lacy bra. Once her top is on the floor, I trail my index finger along the edge of her bra, mesmerised by the pucker of her flesh and the small gasp that escapes her lips. Lowering my mouth, I suck a nipple through the sheer material, pressing at the bud with the flat of my tongue. Another sigh, this time louder, longer. Her hands are still above her head, thrusting her pert tits right into my face. Straightening up, I turn her and undo the clasp and then reach up and hook it over her still suspended hands, before then brushing my lips across the smooth skin of her back. It’s perfection. Not one mark, no sign of ink, just a smattering of freckles across a creamy smooth canvas. I inhale deeply, filling my senses with perfume and skin. Her skirt fastens at the back which works well for me, I slide it down her hips until she's stood just in her heels and a pair of sheer black panties. Her pert butt cheeks are round like apples, curving down into those wondrous thighs. Has this woman really been living in my house for days and I haven’t been taking advantage of it? I must be an idiot.

  She shivers slightly. Her body now exposed to the cool air of the room. I know she must be expecting me to turn her around and to take my fill, so instead, using some serious self-control, I walk back to the chair and throw myself down. She can’t see me, but she knows I’m gone. A small moan fills the air.

  “Turn around.”

  She does, her face split between desire and nerves. That damn lip between her teeth. With a steady gaze, I rake my eyes over her, watching her legs press together slightly as I travel over the front of her panties.

  “Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”

  Her responding glare is fierce, but the squeeze of her thighs assures me she isn’t that upset. “Because I don’t.”

  “That’s not an answer. Turn around so I can see again.” She does, slowly. I’m going to come in my boxers.

  Shit.

  When she’s done a full three-sixty I repeat my question. “Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”

  “I’m not that kind of woman.”

  I frown. Does she not look in the mirror?

  “What kind of woman are you?”

  There’s a flicker in her eyes and her arms almost lower, but then she reins herself in and holds them straighter, pushing those perfect tits in my direction. “Come here.”

  She walks over, her arms lowering. Swiftly, I unzip my jeans and push them down.

  I don’t know what she wants me to do or how far this little role play will go. This is unchartered territory.

  When she’s in front of me, her nipples standing to attention, I reach my hand and slide it around the side of her knickers. She’s wet, warm and soft. It’s my turn to groan. I’d love to taste it, flick my tongue in those depths and hear her cry my name.

  I snap at the band of her underwear, pulling it off, a ripping sound filling the air. My gaze is focused, watching her face, her green eyes darkening. When I push at my boxers, my hard-on springs free, standing to attention, desperate to sink into her. Her gaze drops, and she licks her lips.

  Without a word, I anchor my hand onto her hip and guide her over my lap until her legs straddle either side of my thigh. Then with both hands applying pressure, I push her down until I’m slotted deep within her. Jesus fucking Christ. She groans, her head lolling back. Still using my hands, I circle her hips, around and around. All the while she pushes harder down until I’m deep within her, right up to the hilt.

  The wave of a deep desire builds, burning hot. My dick pulses, threatening to unload already. She’s so warm. Her walls cinching round me, hard and soft all at the same time. Sliding a hand between us, I rub at her swollen clit with the flat of three fingers. She grinds harder, moaning as she circles her arms around my neck. Her breath comes in short, hot waves against my skin. Everything about her is hot and dense, and I want to burrow myself so deep in her I won’t see tomorrow.

  I’m stuck on the chair, my injuries too much to make any sudden movement. I want to sweep her into my arms and chuck her on the bed and slam myself into her. But I can’t, so instead, I keep pushing my fingers against her heat and let her grind herself to oblivion on my lap. She’s lost, her head thrown back, her lips parted, as small pants fill the air. Each little moan makes me thrust my hips up higher into her. She’s pushing down so deep it must hurt. She just keeps moaning and pushing, moaning and pushing. Higher and higher, the little noises become more and more, and I have to hold on to all my control. She arches back, her tits bouncing right in front of me.

  “Oh,” she clings on, straightening up. “Oh, oh.”

  I smile, slow and steady and then lift my hands to her shoulders pushing her down with every single shred of strength I have left. Her eyes fly open and she almost screams as the impact of force and her orgasm collide. I spill over the edge after her, spurting my load deep inside.

  We cling together, her breathing mingling with every gasp. “Holy fuck.” I clutch her closer. “You are something else.” I kiss her neck. Her chin. Then finally her mouth. My tongue drives in slow and I remember my need to have it thrust deep inside her—soon. We’ve got all night.

  She meets my eyes, calm and assured.

  “I think you just blew my mind.” I can’t keep my words in. She’s undone me.

  She smiles and runs her hand down my face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, what? That you forced me into a hotel room and made me have sex with you?”

  She dips her head and bu
ries it into my neck, but I pull her back, brushing her hair out of her face.

  “You are so controlled all the time. But then…” I let my words trail off and she blushes.

  “Do you think I’m perverted?”

  “No. I think you're fucking hot.”

  A small smile curves her lips. “It’s a fucked-up daddy complex.”

  My eyes widen. I can’t control my expression, but she laughs and runs that hand along my face again.

  “Not like that. My father runs our house like it’s a small army. I guess I learned young that…”

  “That...?”

  “That I could take that control and give it to whoever I pleased.”

  I wince as her words punch my stomach. “Lots of others?”

  She giggles and hides her face again. “No. Not that many.” When she looks up, her eyes flash with a question, but whatever it is she quickly stores it away.

  “So what happens now?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “The room is ours for the night. And I guess I’ve just told you it’s up to you what happens in here.” Her cheeks flame, but she stares me straight in the eye, her chin raised.

  “Then I want to taste you.”

  “You do?” An eyebrow quirks.

  “Hell yes. But right now, I’ve got to get off this chair without losing my cred and crying in pain.”

  Surprising me, she bursts out into loud laughter and wraps her arms around me tight. “How about I help you with that?”

  This woman isn’t for real. And I’m pretty damn sure she’s not supposed to be mine.

  Ten

  Sienna

  I don’t think there has ever been a time when I’ve snuggled into a man’s chest before. Or maybe it’s just been so damn long I’ve forgotten.

  “What are you thinking?” I hold in a shiver as his lips brush my hair.