Original Sins by Faith Summers

22

Evie

My eyes flutter open, and I smile when I see Henry looking at me.

He was resting next to me, watching me sleep.

I have no idea what time it is, and God knows what my hair looks like.

“Morning, Duchess,” he says with a radiant smile. His bright blue eyes sparkle against the bright sunlight.

“Morning.”

Mr. Perfect next to me always looks the way he does, and I feel like hiding under a rock when I run my fingers through my hair.

“God, I must look like a troll,” I wince.

“No, you don’t. You look like the sexy goddess who had wild sex with me before she fell asleep last night.”

I smile at him. “Henry, you’re too nice.”

He shakes his head. “Like fuck. Anybody who knows me knows I’m far from nice. When I tell you things like that, it’s because I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

I straighten up and pull the sheet over my breasts.

He sits up too.

“Where’s Georgiou?”

“At work. You got me today.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You like him more than me, don’t you?”

He’s joking. I can see the humor in his eyes, so I chuckle.

“You know I don’t.”

“I know no such thing, Duchess. It’s the whole badass Italian thing he has going on, isn’t it?”

I can’t believe this. I simply can’t. This is exactly why I forget reality when I’m with either of these two men. They complete me.

“I like that about him, but there are tons about you that I like.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you come over here and tell me what you like.”

I pull the sheet closer to my breasts, and he stops me.

“No, take it off and come over naked,” he says.

I allow the sheet to slip from me, and his eyes glue to my breasts as I move over to him and sit in his lap.

While he circles his arms around me, I slip mine around his neck.

“Go on, Duchess. You can start anytime now.”

“I like your eyes, and your hair and your face and everything about you,” I say. “Most of all, I like how you make me smile.”

“You have a nice smile, so I do my best to see it as often as I can, Duchess.”

“Thank you.”

He slides his hand up to touch my bruised wrist and brings it to his lips to kiss. The bruise doesn’t look as bad as it did when I first got it.

I hated lying to Georgiou, but what else was I supposed to do. Peter could literally get away with murder, and no one would know.

Telling a guy like Georgiou or even Henry who and what I’m running from is just asking for trouble. It would get back to Dad, then everything would go to hell.

“How’s your wrist?” Henry asks.

“Better. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’d tell me if you’re not good, right?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay, well, today I’m taking the day off to spend it with my girl.”

My girl.

If I died right now, I’d be happy to be called that. The only thing I would miss is Georgiou.

“Maybe I should leave then before she gets here,” I tease.

“Like fuck. You know I’m talking about you.” He nuzzles his mouth into my neck playfully, and I laugh.

It’s been so long since I laughed like this it feels freeing.

The last time was before Dante died. That was years ago. I’ve lived my life in misery and grief from one day to the next.

It’s like I was trying to make my way back to myself, and I finally found it when I met these two gorgeous men who’ve turned my world upside down.

“What are we going to do?”

“First, I’m going to fuck you in the shower,” he replies, and my pussy clenches at his crass words.

“Are you?”

“I am if you want me to.”

“Henry, I’m always going to want you to fuck me in the shower.” I feel like such a slut, but in the best possible way. I never talk like that, but these two guys have brought out a side of me I like.

“Let’s go then, Duchess.”

He picks me up and takes me to the shower, where we fuck for far too long.

When we eventually leave the house, he takes me shopping. While there, I touch base with Cordelia just to let her know I’m okay.

We’ve been messaging back and forth, and it’s perhaps a good thing I haven’t been back at the house, so Peter can’t keep an eye on me.

Cordelia doesn’t know which guard told Peter that information about me, so it suggests either someone is lying, or he managed to keep tabs on me in some other way.

I think it might be the former since Peter would have done more by now if he was watching me. I think I’d have a phone call from Dad issuing my death sentence for selling my body.

Being with Henry pushes all of that out of my mind as we spend the hanging out.

We decide to finish the day in the park with ice cream. That’s where we are now, playing a game of twenty questions. We’re both on our last three.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” I say, each time it’s my turn, I worry about what he’ll ask me. The game itself is breaking the rules of the contract.

I don’t even remember how we got playing. We just did and realized we were asking each other questions.

Henry nods, and a wicked smile crosses his face. “Tell me something true about you.”

I think about it, and I know what to say. “My mother died when I was twelve, and it felt like the world ended. Nothing has been the same since.”

“I’m sorry, Duchess.” Sympathy comes into his eyes. “Death can be the hardest thing ever. Mine died when I was twelve, too, and I get what you mean. Nothing was the same for me either .”

“I’m sorry about yours.”

“Thanks. My Dad remarried after, and life was a bitch. I got by because I had football. Until the day I didn’t.”

He hasn’t spoken about that yet, and I never expected him to. Of course, I had to pretend to be none the wiser when I saw football pictures of him in the house with his team.

“What happened?”

“I busted my leg in the middle of a game. We won, but that was the last game I played—my last touchdown and my last day as The Rocket. I was the fastest quarterback the team ever had. I got caught in a tangle for the ball. Someone rammed into my leg, and it felt like death by a thousand knives, but I still ran with it, knowing it was the end.”

He pulls out a cigarette from a pack in his jacket and tilts his head to the side with the cigarette slinking to the corner of his mouth.

He looks even sexier. “Mind if I smoke, Duchess?”

“No.”

“One last question, then we head home. I’ll go first. Ask me anything.”

I think of what to ask him. “What do you want most?”

“That’s a tough question.” He thinks about it. “I have all the money I can stand. When you have money like that, you want the little things people take for granted. What I want most is to be okay with my father, but that’s a story for another time.”

I wish I could be okay with my father too, and mine is a story I can’t tell him.

“Same question to you, Duchess. What do you want most?”

I don’t have to think about the answer to that. “I want to be able to live my life the way I want.”

“Maybe you can.”

I nod.

Things are going according to plan. I was worried about what’s going to happen after, but now I worry about never feeling the way I do when I’m with Henry and Georgiou.

He presses his lips to mine for the sweetest kiss we’ve ever shared then we head home.

It’s like a repeat of the other day because Georgiou is home when we get back, and the moment he sees us, we all head upstairs to bed.

The nights that follow are the same, but on Wednesday night, my first day where I went back to Cordelia’s, I notice the guys planning in the kitchen when I get there.

I’m so ready to see them and do anything that I skip into their arms. I had to have lunch with Peter earlier, and it was awful.

He was talking about the fucking engagement party on Saturday. I can’t believe it’s that time already. Dad will be back on Friday. So that means I’m only going to see the guys on Sunday this weekend.

When I do, it’s going to feel weird being engaged when I’m with them. It will feel like I’m cheating, although I’m not.

“We’re doing something different tonight,” Henry announces, and a wicked smile brightens Georgiou's face.

I kiss them both, and Georgiou slips his arm around me.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“You’ll see, Duchess. Do you want dinner now or later?”

“Later. I want to see what you are going to do to me.”

Georgiou kisses my neck and feels up my ass while Henry kisses my lips and massages my breasts.

“Let’s go,” Georgiou says, and the two lead me upstairs.

We go into the room down at the end of the passage instead of my room. I haven’t been in here before. When I look around, I see why.

The first thing my eyes land on is a metal St. Andrews cross.

Thanks to Cordelia, I’m well versed in things like this. She tells me everything, and she thinks she should show me too, so I know what she’s talking about.

When she started going to the BDSM club in town with one of her boyfriends, she explained how thrilling the experience was.

All I can say is it made me curious.

That’s all—curious. So while I might not know on a first-hand basis what it feels like to be tied up, I’m not averse to the idea.

And since my answer is always yes to my two gorgeous men, I guess this is what I’ll be doing tonight.

There’s a king-size bed in the corner of the room that looks similar to my bed, but it’s clear from the apparatus spread around the room that it was designed for BDSM.

There are chains on the wall, chains on the nightstand beside the bed. There’s a padded horse thing in the center of the room and an island with an assortment of little pots that smell like candle wax. It crosses my mind that that’s exactly what it is.

There’s also a bucket of ice.

“Tonight, we’re doing this,” Georgiou states.

I’m not surprised he’s taking the lead. From the glint in his eyes, I think this is more his thing than Henry’s, although the two of them seem excited to do this with me. Their excitement has a hungry feel to it. Like they’re two devils waiting to dirty me up even more than they have.

Georgiou gives me a cocky masculine grin, and his eyes darken with dark desire.

A desire for me.

The only woman in this room is me, and the effect of seeing such distinct desire in his eyes makes arousal curl through my veins and dance in my belly, fueled with my own burning lust.

But my God, am I nervous as hell. Again.

I thought I’d gotten the hang of everything, but I forgot this part.

“We thought we’d take things up a notch tonight,” Georgiou explains.

“Will it hurt?” I ask. I can’t imagine it not hurting.

“It hurts as much as you want it to hurt in order to produce the maximum amount of pleasure.”

“So the pain is pleasure?”

“It sure is. BDSM is all about pleasure and permission. People think submissives give their bodies over to torture, but that’s not the case. The pain is the instigator of more pleasure. When you mix the two, it’s spellbinding. But any pain inflicted needs to be within reason. You need to trust that person with the permission you give them to take you over the edge. But as usual, if you don’t want to do it, we won’t do it.”

“I want to.” I think I would say anything under the sun to make him look at me the way he is—as if I’m perfect.

The perfect woman.

Georgiou Giordano is looking at me like that is precisely what I am. And Henry Dubois touching me like he never wants to stop is everything a girl could wish for—forever.

“Do you trust us?” Henry adds, whispering the words into my ear

“I do.” I’ve never trusted anybody more than I do these two guys, and I’ve had to trust them in more ways than I ever imagined.

“Good,” Georgiou replies.

“Which one are we going to use?” I ask with a nervous quiver in my voice, glancing around the room. All the apparatus’ looks so daunting but enticing at the same time.

Henry places his hand to the small of my back and strokes my bare skin in the hollow of my halter-neck

“You pick, Duchess,” Henry says. “We think you should pick what you think you’ll be most comfortable with.

“Me?” Foolishly, I point to myself.

Georgiou nods. “This is entirely up to you.”

I look at the bed. I’m familiar with the bed. If we start there, then at least I can feel comfortable. I’m not sure how I’d feel being chained to the wall on my first go. But next time for sure.

“The bed,” I tell them. “I want the bed.”

“And will you give us permission to own your body in every way possible to give you maximum pleasure, Duchess?”

“I do.” it sounds like I’m making a vow. It feels that way too.

“Alright, little sub. Then your safe word is red. Say that, and everything stops. Do you understand me?” Georgiou holds my gaze.

“I understand.”

“Then take your clothes off for me and get on the bed.”