Sinful Rewards 5

Sinful Rewards 5

Cynthia Sax

PG-Rated Excerpt #1

Hawke lies on my bed, his huge form still and his breathing level, one of his hands resting on the stack of clothes beside him. He’s falling asleep. My lips twist. What is it about me that makes men comatose?

“You’re bored.” I pat pressed powder over my shiny nose. “You don’t have to stay.” I force the words, wanting him to stay, to keep me company.

“There’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be than right here.” Hawke’s low rumble rolls over me, lighting fires we have no time to tend. “There are many reasons to go to war. Some men fight for their children. Some men fight for the glory. Some men fight because their fathers fought and their grandfathers fought. I fought to protect moments like these, the quiet moments everyone takes for granted.”

I meet his gaze in the mirror, not expecting poetry from my rough, tough military man. “You don’t take them for granted.”

“No, I don’t.” Sadness flits across Hawke’s face. “I’ve seen too much to do that.”

“Is that why you watch me?” I skim pink gloss across my lips.

“No.” He chuckles. “I watch you because I’m a pervert.” I smile. Before I met him, I thought I was alone in my perversions. “And I watch you because you like it, because you’re mine.” Hawke places the clothing he’d folded in the laundry hamper, not questioning my need for neatness even with my dirty garments, treating the fabric as carefully as he treats me.

I say nothing as I slip into the dress because I’m not his. Nicolas is the man I should want. Hawke pushes my hair over my shoulder and zips my dress, his fingertips pressing along my spine, leaving a trail of decadent sensation.

“You look beautiful.” He brushes my tendrils back once more, his touch reverent.

I gaze at our reflections in the vanity’s mirror. Hawke is huge, clad in his hideous black T-shirt and faded blue jeans, all muscles and blunt features, a shadow of stubble shading his chin. I’m smaller, wearing a delicate designer dress, my makeup and hair flawless. We shouldn’t fit and we shouldn’t look right together, yet we do, his maleness framing my slighter form, emphasizing my femininity.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs.

PG-Rated Excerpt #2

“Do you want twenty minutes of my time?” Nicolas asks. “I’m not a nice person, Bee.” The anguish in his voice makes my heart twist. “You heard what I did.”

I release his hand and slide my palms over his chest, the fabric of his suit luxuriously soft under my fingertips. “Yes, I heard what you did.” I’m not certain of the details, knowing only that Nicolas made a mistake, the consequences were terrible, and he’s been living with guilt since that day. “A truly bad man wouldn’t care about his actions.”

“A good man wouldn’t have made that decision.” Nicolas plucks on his shirt cuffs, clearly agitated. “How can you forgive me?”

He asks this because he can’t forgive himself. I read this truth in his dark eyes. Is this why he hasn’t yet formed a lasting romantic relationship—he doesn’t think himself worthy of love, doesn’t believe a woman can accept his past?

I wish I could tell him I loved him but I don’t, not yet.

“You’re not perfect, Nicolas.” I rise onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his chin. The phone on my right hip hums as Hawke, my possessive former marine, tries to interrupt the embrace. I ignore the call, focusing on my upset billionaire. “I knew that before I met you, before I decided to be your friend.”

“I’m a terrible friend also,” Nicolas mutters.

“You are a terrible friend,” I admit and a gold sparkle returns to his brown eyes. “But you have potential. I believe, after two or three years of constant training, you could progress from being a terrible friend to being a really bad friend.”

Nicolas’s lips twitch. “How many years will it take me to become a great friend?”

“More years than you have.” I laugh, skipping away from him. “You’d have to be immortal to achieve great-friend status.”

Nicolas grins, his white teeth flashing against his tanned face. “You’re priceless.”

My smile wavers. Hawke used priceless to describe me when he presented his report to Nicolas. I yearn to ask my billionaire what he thinks about me.

R-Rated Excerpt #1

“If one lunch can destroy their relationship, Jacques doesn’t deserve her.” The echoing stops and my body hums with excitement. “Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”

My former marine would fight for the woman he loves. I hear this in his voice, know this in my soul. I open the door, tilt my head back, and gaze upward at Hawke. His chest rises and falls. His scent engulfs me. There’s a gleam of intent in his pale blue eyes.

He wants me and I want him. If I allow him inside, we’ll kiss, touch, do things we shouldn’t. Nicolas deserves my loyalty. I should tell Hawke to go away. I should—

Hawke captures my lips with his, the force of his embrace driving me backward. I reach for him, clasp his broad shoulders. He hooks his arms around me, securing me to him, as he kicks the door shut. Our tongues tangle and twist, dancing to the rhythm of our hearts, his stubble teasing my chin, leaving a sensual trail on my skin.

He tastes of black coffee and man. His body radiates heat, a thin layer of moisture covering his big form. Everything about him, even his no-name T-shirt and seen-better-days jeans, appeals to me. I cling to him, losing myself in his kiss.

Hawke ravishes my mouth with fierce, hard strokes, cupping my ass with his massive hands, lifting me off the floor, pressing me into his muscular form. My feet dangle, my lips throb, and my heart pounds, my world narrowing to the two of us. This is how it always is with us, his touch eroding my reason, my control.

I rub against the hard ridge in his jeans, tormenting us both with more sweet sensation. He feels so good, so right. My pussy moistens and my nipples tighten, my arousal spiraling upward.

Hawke groans into my throat and his grip on my ass intensifies, his reaction thrilling me, making me crazed. I tug on his T-shirt, seeking his bare skin, needing to feel, to taste, to explore all of my huge man.

“Not now, love.” Hawke lowers me, sliding my curves against him until my feet touch the hardwood floor. “You have the lunch to prepare for.” He pushes a strand of my brown hair away from my face, his fingers rough yet gentle, his eyes a brilliant blue. “I vowed not to distract you.”

“To hell with your vow.” My bottom lip curls. “You being here distracts me.”

The damn man laughs. “Show me the clothes.”

R-Rated Excerpt #2

“You’re killing me, Belinda.” He cups my ass, lifting me off the floor, and he walks with me into my bedroom. “I have to touch all of you.”

“You forgot your T-shirt.” I wave my arm. He’s left it on the kitchen floor.

“Passion is messy, love.” Hawke kicks the door shut behind us and tosses me onto the center of the bed. I bounce. He yanks off his jeans, the buttons popping.

I gaze at him with open admiration, excitement unfurling low in my stomach. He kicks off his boots and strips naked in mere seconds, his cock fully erect, jutting from a base of neatly trimmed brown curls. He’s huge and aroused and mine, his scars attesting to his violent career, his savage nature.

The future is uncertain. We might have only tonight, this one moment. I spread my thighs in a clear invitation and he stalks toward me, his eyes darkening to a brilliant blue. The curtains are open and the storm continues to rage. All of my focus is on him, my tattooed biker, my tortured military man.

I reach out, wrap my fingers around his shaft, and he jerks. “Easy,” I coo, comforting him as I would comfort a wild beast. “Let me touch you.” I cup his balls, weighing them, rolling him in my hands. Hawke’s lips flatten and his eyelids lower as he stands straight and still beside the bed.

I pump him with one hand as I explore the cascade of defined flesh over his abdominal muscles, the indent of his hipbones, the power of his upper thighs, committing every scar, every inch of him to memory.

A dab of precum forms on his cock head. I look upward and our gazes meet. My intentions must reflect in my eyes because a strangled noise originates from deep in Hawke’s throat. I slowly extend my tongue and flick the tip over him, tasting his unique flavor. His cock bobs. His hands, held by his side, clench into massive fists.

It’s not enough. I lick my lips, savoring him, needing more. Hawke’s eyes widen, his gaze fixed on my mouth as I push my flesh over his, taking his cock head into my heat. I prod his slit, tease his rim, slap his shaft with the flat of my tongue.

“Fuck, love. You’re slaying me.” He shakes, beads of sweat pearling on his golden skin, adding sparkle and shine. Hawke doesn’t need clothing. His huge form is best displayed nude, covered only with the remnants of desire.

I suck on his cock head and then release him. “You’ll survive.” I repeat the words he often says to me and gently squeeze his balls.