Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) by Jianne Carlo Page B

pepperminty breath fanned her nose.
    “I won't. Don't you want me to lick you, deep throat you?” she asked, sliding her tongue across his jaw and then suckling one spot. Destiny, now a siren, drew back to meet his stare. “Promise me you won't hurt Satan—Lorcan, oh, whatever his name is.”
    “Word of honor, I won't hurt Satan,” he grumped. “But you have to agree to do a scene from Debbie Does Dallas too.”
    “What's that about?”
    “Cheerleaders.”
    “Do all men have a cheerleader thing?”
    “You bet. Cheerleaders and convent girls.” His eyes had that smoky smolder she now recognized as desire on steroids. “Tall socks and short skirts. How hungry are you?”
    “Hungry. We're going to eat first. I cooked a great meal, and you're going to eat it.” She liked this feeling of power, the way Linc devoured her with that heated gaze. “Let me down now.”
    He slid her down his body, his hands cupping her backside and squeezing her cheeks. “Jesus, you feel good.”
    “Oh no.” She shook her head, tapping a finger on his jacket. “Go take off your coat. I'm going to have to toast two more English muffins.”
    “Yes ma'am.” He kissed the tip of her nose and swatted her behind. “Anything you say.”
    “Hmm. So you can be controlled by sex promises.” The way he consumed her features made her think of devil horns. “Why're you staring at me like that?”
    “Later.” He winked and pivoted.
    She eyed his massive shoulders when he shrugged off the jacket.
    What did he have planned?
    Both euphoric and a tad apprehensive, Destiny popped two muffins into the four-slice toaster, which burned one side and barely toasted the other if she didn't keep hawk-eye watch on the damned appliance. Clouds-and-sun perfectly poached eggs had blurred into a scattered-mist-swirled-golden mixture.
    “Damn.” She puffed out a long breath.
    “'S'matter?” She glanced in the direction of his voice, her jaw sagged, and her eyes bugged out. Glorious and nude and flagstaff erect, arms akimbo, Linc waggled both brows. “I love the way you gawk at my dick.”
    Destiny licked her lips and dropped the spatula.
    “Cat got your tongue?”
    Damn, he knew exactly what he did to her. Drat the man.
    Wanting to hide the blush warming her ears, she bent over and took her time in retrieving the spatula. With her back to Lincoln, she assembled the first muffin, ham cut round, egg, and a blanket of hollandaise. She'd made two for Linc, so she reached for a bigger plate.
    “One plate. You're eating on my lap.” His breath feathered her nape; Linc stood behind her, his erection nudging the crease of her bottom. He licked a diagonal path up her neck, leaving a trail of wetness that tingled as he exhaled and inhaled.
    “Mmm.” Destiny arched her neck, her mind fogged, and she forgot the protest she'd intended. She wouldn't be able to eat a morsel.
    “I'll get the cutlery. How about champagne?” His voice faded as he stalked to the radio room.
    “I never saw any champagne,” she yelled, making short work of the other two Benedict portions, and then balanced the plate on her fingertips.
    “That's because you didn't know where to look.” Confidence notched to arrogance coated each syllable he uttered.
    Destiny rolled her eyes, but grinned and swung about. Her lungs stopped working, and she stared, her mouth going suddenly dry.
    The sight of Linc's powerful legs in motion and the way his penis slapped the hard ridges of his belly when he moved struck her like a lust lightning bolt. Creamy moisture pooled at her center, slicking the insides of her thighs. The absence of a pantie allowed a trickle to roll down the inside of one leg.
    Not a single one of the three men she'd slept with rivaled Linc's size or the girth and length of his shaft.
    That thing would choke her.
    Wonder what his semen tastes like?
    “You test my discipline, Destiny,” he murmured, lifting her chin with a finger. “Wanna skip the porn and learn