Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

I’m not sure I exist anywhere.

Then Vicente comes with hoarse grunts, his hips driving into me while every muscle in his body strains. With sated eyes I watch as he arches back, exposing his strong neck, his fingers gripping my hips so hard I think they might mark me forever.

Our chests rise and fall, and the room is filled with the sound of our ragged breathing.

Vicente looks at me. His dark hair clings to his forehead, the glisten of sweat lines his upper lip. His eyes have taken on a quality I haven’t seen in him until now.

Vulnerability.

I feel like I’m looking at a Vicente that’s rarely revealed.

Like he’s sharing the inner reaches of his soul with me and me alone.

His mouth quirks up in a lazy smile.

“My Violet,” he says softly, reaching up to brush the damp hair off my face. “That was a lovely appetizer.”

“Appetizer?” I can barely get out the words.

He murmurs, “Yes,” as he gently kisses me, slowly pulling out. “I’m only getting started.”

Grabbing my waist, he steps back from the window and carries me all the way to the bedroom where he throws me down onto the bed. I bounce with a little squeal before rolling over. My heart has barely had time to slow, my head is still swimming against the tide, unable to pull itself out of the post-orgasmic bliss.

I manage to take off my bra that’s somehow still on and prop myself up on my elbow, watching as he leaves the bedroom. His ass is firm, ripe like a fucking bronzed peach, and I can see why he was able to fuck me like a madman.

When he comes back, cock still long and swinging as he walks, I’m reduced to warm clay again.

He’s got the tie in his hands.

He stops at the foot of the bed and stares down at me.

“Raise your hands up, above your head,” he says with a quick nod.

I lie back, arms over my head, trying not to smile.

He comes over and I watch his face as he gently ties my hands together at the wrists. There’s a determined slant to his brow, the way they arch and come together, but at the same time there’s something so achingly gentle about it all, tying me up like he’s trying to soothe me.

This man is nothing short of a mystery to me. There are so many facets, so many sides, and I never know which one I’m going to get. The man in the other room just fucked me mercilessly against the glass for the whole city to see. The man in here has nothing but quiet movements, tying me up like he’s doing me a favor.

Maybe he is.

Honestly, I’ve only had vanilla sex before. I haven’t had anything except blow jobs, missionary. Occasionally a boyfriend went down on me, sometimes we did it doggy-style. That was it. We never played with sex toys or sex games. I don’t even have a vibrator (which Ginny makes fun of me relentlessly for since it’s like mandatory for every female in the city).

“Are you going to be good?” he whispers to me when he’s done, staring down at me, searching my face earnestly.

“What would be considered bad?”

He smirks at me. “You’re already questioning things. That’s off to a bad start. Perhaps I should restrain the rest of you.”

I raise my brows and glance at the corners of the four-poster bed. I have to wonder if it was by accident that he got a room with a bed like this.

My heart has started racing again. I’m getting wet at the thought of what lies ahead. Maybe I’m kinkier than I thought.

“Yeah,” he says, looking me over. “I think I might. You can’t be trusted.”

I let out a laugh, both nervous and girlish. “I think you might have our roles confused.”

“Oh, you can trust me,” he says, heading over to the wardrobe. He opens it and rifles through it. I’m still staring at his gorgeously naked body.

He brings out two long loops of nylon rope.

What the…?

“Why do you have rope with you?”

He grins at me, standing at one corner of the bed. “It’s for tying up hostages, of course. No Mexican travels without it.”

Thankfully I know he’s joking. “Where’s the duct tape?”

“In my toiletry bag,” he says without missing a beat, wrapping the rope around my left ankle and securing it to the bedpost. Like he did with the tie, his movements are slow and self-assured which calms me.

Kind of.

Because, oh my god.

He’s fucking tying me to the bed!

“Relax,” he whispers to me. “Give up control. You’ll learn to love it.”

While I don’t think Vicente uses the rope to tie up hostage victims, I’m starting to think that with his confident ease, he has the rope with him for exactly this.

I try not to think about it, about the other women he might have been with.

He walks to the other post, tugging on my leg slightly so I’m more spread eagle on the bed, and starts tying up that ankle as well.

Any thoughts about other women are totally obliterated because now all I can think about is how fucking crazy this is.

Don’t think, I remind myself. Just be.

I take in a deep breath and watch as Vicente slides his hand up the length of my leg and then crawls onto the bed between my thighs.

The most devious expression lies on his lips, like he’s not sure what to do first.

“I thought it would be rude if I didn’t finish what I started,” he says, bracing his elbows on either side of my shoulders. He smiles down at me, and once again I’m unnerved at how gentle it is. It softens every rugged thing about him, making him look, just for this moment, like he might not be any older than I am.

He runs his fingers over my nose, down the hills of my lips, looking at me like he’s seeing me, just as he did earlier, only there’s no camera lens to capture it. It’s his eyes that take the photos, and he’s taking in evidence.

“I want to suck on every inch of your body,” he murmurs. “Is that all right?” He licks along the rim of my ear, the sensation causing my skin to tingle.