Sabin, A Seven Novel (16 page)

Sleep? How can he even think about sleep now?

“Sabin, I’m truly sorry about your sister.” I stretch out on top of him, resting my head on his chest. “You spoke in a strange language when you were dreaming. Is that your native tongue?”

He lets out a snort. “I don’t know. I was dreaming, so I have no idea what I said.”

“Hmm. What language do you speak?”

He laughs. “All of them.”

“All of them? How is that possible?”

“We use a translator.”

“What? Is that like a tiny person who sits on your shoulder?” I giggle at my little joke. But then I notice he’s not laughing.

“You’re not far off from the truth, actually. It’s a tiny device called MSI, or microscopic simulated intellect, that’s implanted into our cerebellums. It’s designed to work in tandem with our brain so when we hear a language it instantly interprets, translates, decodes, and allows us to speak in that particular tongue. It works great, but we have to adjust the setting for slang usage at times.”

“That’s just gross. They actually stick something in your brains?”

He chuckles. “Yes, but it’s so tiny you can’t feel it. But the things it does—well, it’s worth it. We have them updated every so often.”

“So, let’s say for the sake of this conversation that I had one put in my head. You’re saying that I would be fluent in Japanese? Or Russian?”

“Yes. Any language anywhere.”

“That is amazing. Can you talk to animals with it?”

“What? No, I can’t talk to animals. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Just curious. Can I get one of those thingies?”

“Technically, it’s an MSI, not a thingy, and no you cannot.”

Harrumph. “Figures. You keep the good stuff for yourself.”

“Serena, I can’t be giving out our devices and things to you. What would happen if it fell into your scientists’ hands?”

“They could possibly create some for us, using your technology.”

“No, it would raise all kinds of questions and where would that put you?”

He makes a good point. “But how would they know?”

His hands have been moving up and down my back, sort of doing a light massage. Now he stops, and groans. “What if someday, when I’m long gone, you need a scan of your head, and they find it?”

Lifting my head, my eyes lock onto his. I don’t want to think of a day when he’s long gone. He cups my chin and his thumb slides over my bottom lip. What is it about this man? Everything screams desire. My belly tightens my skin heats. I would bet if I touched myself, my fingers would be slick with my own wetness. The hunger to taste him is potent. His cinnamon and spicy scent has just flared, flooding my senses, making me need him even more. Does that mean he’s lusting after me, too? I don’t care. The scar in the corner of his mouth calls out to me. My tongue peeks out and I lick it. Just a little. Then I look at him. Oh, he watches me, so I do it again, but this time, I kiss his scar all the way up to his eye. And look at him again. When I do, he lets out a sexy growl, rolls over me, and his mouth crashes onto mine. God, he tastes as good as he smells—cinnamon with that perfect amount of spice. Not sweet and not hot. Exactly right. His velvety tongue tangles and dances with mine. When he deepens the kiss, my hands tunnel into his hair and hold on tight. I don’t want this moment to end because I’m too greedy. I’ve been kissed before. Many times. I’ve had boyfriends. I was even serious with one. Jason. Thought perhaps we might get married. That was before I caught him screwing a friend of mine. I used to think Jason was an amazing kisser and an awesome lover. Every man I’ve ever been with after him I would always compare to Jason and they would never live up to him. Not anymore. Sabin pulverizes Jason in every way. Kisses—knocks it out of the park. Oral sex—should give Jason lessons. And the sex—Sabin’s a walking orgasm.

He suddenly stops kissing me, grabs my chin, and says, “While I’m flattered I kick Jason’s ass in the bedroom, I would rather you would be with me in the moment and not thinking of the asshole that fucked around on you.”

“Oh shit.” My hands move to cover my face, but he stops them.

“No. Look at me.”

I have no choice since we’re face to face, in bed with each other.

“When I’m with you, I want to be
with you
. Is that fair?”

“Yes. But can you stay out of my head? Is that fair?”

“Let me say this first. You’re better off without Jason. He was a first class dumb shit if he fucked around on you.”

“Yeah?” I ask with a grin.

“Yeah,” he says as he wraps his hand around my hair and pulls it. “You are far more beautiful than my simple words can do justice.” His lips hover over mine almost, but not quite touching. My mouth waters with need for him.

“Sabin?”

“Hmm.”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Heated eyes skim my face, then lower to my neck. His mouth follows and I feel the scrape of his teeth against my sensitive skin. My back arches in response. His lips suck as his tongue chases after them, leaving a trail of desire as he moves down to the hollow of my throat. Air traps as I inhale but I can do no more.

His hand slips beneath my shirt and grazes my nipple. It’s as hard as granite; I’m surprised it hasn’t poked a hole through my thin cotton T-shirt. He lifts his head and his gaze catches mine.

“Serena, you know what I want.” His voice sends shivers racing down my spine. I do know what he wants. Because it’s the same thing I want. Him. Inside of me. But he scares me. He does things to me no one has ever done … makes me
feel
things I’ve never felt. My body responds to him like he’s known it for years—like he knows exactly which buttons to push to make it do what he wants. And that’s what’s so frightening. What the hell is going on with my body? And what will happen to me—to us—when he leaves?

“Don’t.”

“How can I not?”

“Come back to me. To this. Us.” His fingers tease my nipple again and, oh hell, it feels divine. I moan.

“You know you want this.”

“Yes.”

“Let it go.”

“Yes.” He’s like being around a heavy dose of hypnosis.

He hooks two fingers into the elastic of my panties and twists until they snap. Do I care? Hell no. Then he takes a fistful of my shirt, pulls me into a sitting position, and I’m instantly naked. Facing him, I have this craving to touch him all over. He’s naked from the waist up, but he wears boxers. His wide chest is every woman’s dream. Smooth skin covers a dense expanse of muscle, and it’s next to impossible not to let my hands roam all over him. Long, angular lines run from each side of his abdomen and disappear below the elastic of his boxers. I can feel my fingers twitching in their eagerness to grasp him there. My eyes flick down and then back up to his eyes. He gets the message. But I stop him. I want to be the one to remove them, because there’s something I want to do along the way. I wish I had the strength to destroy his boxers like he did mine, but I don’t, so I just slip my hands under the waistband and tug. When I do, his erect cock springs free and my hand reaches for it. He puts his hand over mine, but I shove it off.

“Serena …”

“Serena nothing.”

“You might want …”

“Shut up, Sabin. It’s my turn.”

“But, you need to …”

“I said, shut up.”

I’ve seen a number of cocks in my life, but his beats all of them. It’s downright lovely. The shape the color, the texture, and I know damn well it’s going to taste like cinnamon and spice. I look up at him and say, “You better get ready for this.” Then I open my mouth and get my first taste of otherworldly cock, licking the bead of moisture at the tip.
Holy shit.
Maybe I should’ve said that
I
need to get ready for this. He smells so fucking good, I want to drown in him, and fuck chocolate. I want cinnamon from now on. A Sabin cinnamon cock. I run my tongue from base to tip, swirling around his head, and then I put the whole thing back in my mouth until I nearly deep throat him. I’ve never been able to do this before. But jiminy cockhead! I could do this all day long. Holy hell, what is going on here? I’m in cock love. Head heaven. I am the blow job buttercup bitch. I am moaning up a storm. You would think I was the one getting blown. I slide my tongue across the tip back and forth and run zigzags up and down the back, while I suck. Then I move to his balls and run my tongue around them before I put them in my mouth, while I squeeze and pump his cock. Moving my mouth back to the head of his cock, I wrap my lips around it and go for the kill. And I am so fucking turned on; I can hardly kneel still. This is the best blow job I’ve ever had. Wait. What am I saying? Oh shit. The more I suck and lick, the more turned on I get. The hell? I feel like I’m doing myself. Oh god. I’m going to come! I’m not sure who is moaning more—Sabin or me.

“I’m going to come.”

Did he say that or did I think it? I don’t know, but this is the best cock. Oh Jesus. Oh my. Yes! Yes. And he comes right as I do. And it tastes exactly like he does. Cinnamon and spices. I’m like an animal on him, lapping it up, making sure I get every last drop. His hands are buried in my hair, and he’s groaning. But I’m groaning as loud as he is. What the hell just happened here? When we’re both done, I look up at him, right before I take that final lick.

“Bloody hell, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I release him and say, “And that was the best, um, blow job I’ve ever … given? What the hell just happened? It was like I was doing myself.”

He laughs. Hard. “I tried to warn you but you told me to shut up.”

“Warn me? About what?”

He gives me this sheepish look. This is odd because Sabin looking sheepish is like an oxymoron. “Yeah, we sort of connect doing that. Did you feel really turned on?”

“Duh. Hell yeah. I came all over the place.”

“You’re supposed to.”

“You taste like … well honestly, you taste like the best Snickerdoodle ever.”

A smile spreads across his face. “Snickerdoodle. That’s good, right?” His hand twists in my hair. I think he has a hair thing.

“Really good, in fact.” I want to sink into his eyes as he stares at me.

“Serena, it was really good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“I think I went a little crazy on you down there.”

His smile vanishes and his face becomes intense looking. My belly tightens again. Again? In a husky voice he says, “No. It was … I loved it. I was,” he swallows, “Come here.”

He pulls me to him and kisses me. He’s a striking contrast to the hard man who is so controlling and commanding toward his men. And I suppose I’m different, too.

Suddenly I have this need to explain myself to him. “Sabin, I imagine you think I sleep with just any man that comes along. But I really don’t. And I’ve surprised myself that I’ve slept with you after knowing you such a short time.”

“Why do you keep telling me this? Do you think I judge you?”

“No. I, uh, well, yes. Yes, I do. And I don’t want you to.”

“Your past is your past. It doesn’t matter to me. But I
do
want you in the moment when we’re together.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Then we’re good. And show me this Jason so I can kick his ass.”

I let out a giggle. I hate that. Why do I giggle around him? “No. He did me a favor, really.”

“Perhaps, but he hurt you in the process. And that is what I would kick his ass for.”

“Well, if you want to kick the asses of everyone who ever hurt me, that’s a long line of asses.”

He quiets briefly and asks, “Why were you bullied?”

Ah, the question I hate the most. After all these years you would think the pain would’ve melted away. But it hasn’t. Every time I think about those incidents, I am whipped back into time. I flatten like a deflated ball because the humiliation is so potent. I am that little girl again, the one in the ugly, smelly clothes. The taunts and jeers resurface and I freeze, unable to answer him. A million miles away, I am cornered by my vile memories.

Serena withdraws. It kills me, but I respect her wishes to stay out of her head. She looks as though someone punctured her soul and drained the spirit out of her. My hand is still wrapped in her hair. Her head hangs, but I tug on it, so she’s forced to look at me. I trace the outline of her jaw with my fingers.