Garden of Sins

“Okay, I have to go. Don’t worry about me,” I say.

“Wait!” Ava cries out. “Where are you? How are you? Mom is dying from worry! Tell me what to tell her so she will calm down!”

My stomach cramps violently when I think about Mom. “Tell her I’ll be away for a while.” My neck cracks. “Tell her I’m okay.”

Ava sighs heavily. “That’s not right, but okay, I’ll tell her. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.” My guilty conscience is crushing me, almost robbing me of my breath.

“Ciao!” I squeeze out and hang up. I firmly pinch my eyes together and clench my teeth. Everything inside me is tense, everything inside me wants to go home and tell Caden that it doesn’t matter, that we’ll just carry on as before, but it won’t work. It matters. And I don’t want to be his little dog anymore.

That in the Ribbon opened my eyes in so many ways and no matter how hard I try, I can no longer ignore it.

So, with my eyes open again and I glance up at the window.

There she is again. What a little stalker. She has her elbows on the sill as she smokes a cigarette and looks down at me. Not only is she sexy and hot, she’s also beautiful.

“Everything okay?” she asks with her head tilted and the wind blowing her black hair.

“Everything’s great,” I reply without taking my eyes off her.

She takes a drag of her cigarette and pushes the smoke into the sky. She is like a porno in the flesh.

And I’ll fuck her like that, but first I have to make a phone call because I have other missed calls.

This chick is still watching me and I wonder what she’s thinking. It is fu

I snort and scroll down my cell phone before I call back the second to last caller.

It rings eight times before he answers, a

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask directly and take a closer look at the princess up there. I think I want to fuck her mouth.

“Ah, yes, finally. There’s a big shipment coming in tonight. I need your ass at the port, dock seven, two o’clock.”

That’s good. The more distraction, the better, and Caden’s probably incapable of doing anything but lie in bed thanks to me. “All right,” I answer.

“That’s better,” Dorian de Luca mumbles as only he can, like always, and hangs up. He’s not a fan of big words, that’s why we get along.

I plug my cell phone in and push off from the car before I look up again. She has her chin resting on her fists.

“Are you checking me out right now?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Somehow, she puts you in a good mood and I am in dire need of that.

“I thought it might have been the booze, but you’re really hot,” she replies elatedly.

“Ditto,” I whisper and disappear into the bar, through which I go to the back and up the stairs.

I enter the still open door and shut it behind me. On the dresser are a full paper cup of coffee and a smaller, empty espresso cup. So, an espresso drinker. These espresso drinkers are everywhere these days.

I pull off my boots then sit on the mattress with my cup and lean against the wall. She is leaning against the windowsill with her butt and looking at me. While I eye-fuck her, I sip the brew. My knees are slightly bent and she tilts her head.

“So?” I ask and she raises her brows.

“What?” she replies as if caught.

“What brings someone like you to this crap-hole?”

She steps away from the window and closes it. The sounds of cars passing by are muffled.

“I am a restless soul, wandering without finding any peace,” she says meaningfully, sitting down across from me and leaning against the dresser.

Again, I take a sip and watch her. “Did you kill someone?”

She lifts the corner of her mouth. “Sure and you?”

“Most certainly.” Actually, I haven’t killed anyone with my gun, merely severely injured them.

There’s a flash in her green eyes. “Interesting.” For a moment, her eyes fly over my arms and tattoos. I wonder if she is searching for a specific one.

“Shall I explain to you what they mean?” I inquire invitingly and her eyes snap back to mine before she pulls her legs into a cross-legged position.

“Explain,” she whispers softly and supports her chin on her fist. I finish my coffee, place the cup on the floor next to the mattress, and pull off my muscle shirt.

“Holy shit,” she mumbles and stares at my upper body suggestively.

“Keep staring at me like that and I’ll fuck you straightaway, princess,” I warn her hoarsely and she grimaces. “So…” I take her hand and place it on my right pec. Her fingers are small and feel rather good on my skin, I have to admit. “This is when I was born.”

“When was that?” she asks.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I purr and she laughs. By her wrist, I move her fingers further down. “This is when I took my first steps.” I leave out that these tattoos actually tell the story of two people. “I was less than a year old because I’m a genius.”

She nods approvingly.

I move her fingers further to the left. “Here, I said my first word. It was no.”

Now she smiles. “I like that. I like men who can say no.” If she knew how many times I could say no to a woman, she wouldn’t like me anymore.

I guide her hand to my left pec, under which my heart beats. “This was when I first said Mama. I love my mother.”

Her eyes sparkle with warmth and reverence, and she smiles softly. I have never explained my tattoos to any slut. I still don’t wonder what I’m doing here.

I continue moving her hand downward. “This is where I pooped for the first time,” I joke and she laughs, which makes it a bit warmer in my stomach. “Kidding.” She rolls her eyes. “This is when my sister was born.” Her fingers stay on the fine black lines that show a rising sun. “At precisely 00:01.”

“That’s quite impressive,” she acknowledges.

“Everything about me is impressive.” I lift the corner of my mouth and my eyes sparkle.

“I guess that’s right,” she mumbles and I explain every single tattoo to her. From the first time I went to school through the first time I truly suffered to when I committed my first great sin – leaving out what it was all about – to my last tattoo, which differs from my brother’s — Melissa.

Meanwhile, we have reached my lower belly and I am aroused again. Her fingers are on the waistband of my jeans, but her eyes are on my face.

“Now it’s your turn.”

She smiles. “I only have one tattoo,” she says.

“And where is it?” I let my eyes wander over her body.

“In my panties,” she whispers with a grin and heat floods me when I think of her panties.

“Really?” I ask somewhat breathlessly and she nods with a giggle.

“But if I show you, I’ll have to kill you,” she mumbles.

“Never mind.” Invitingly, I raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll show it to you later,” she promises softly and runs her fingertips back up my stomach.

“Be glad that your fingers feel so good right now,” I murmur.

“Do they?” she whispers.

“Yes.” Fuck, she’s hot.

Now she kneels on the mattress so that she rises above me. “Well...” she mumbles and slides closer on her knees. “Why are you here?” It’s almost a little suspicious.

“Why do you think?” I ask and look up at her. She maneuvers her legs left and right of mine and sits astride my lap. She fits perfectly on top of me. Automatically, my hands lay on her ass. And it fits my hands perfectly.