Sinner Like Me by Avril Ashton

Eight

By the time they got back home, it was well after midnight. Syren and Kane had made the choice to send Càtia and Nina to Costa Rica with an escort of five men courtesy of Dutch. He trusted Dutch with the women in his life, and they’d stay there until the threat to their family was dealt with. Isa was also on her way to Costa Rica. She jumped at the chance to spend time with her niece, she said, but Syren knew she wanted to be close to Nina. Why Isa wouldn’t come clean with her feelings for Nina he would never know, but hey, who was he to judge?

All the men joined them at the private airstrip to say goodbye to Càtia and Nina. Càtia had been sad, not understanding why they’d had to leave immediately, but of course, Syren couldn’t explain. There would never be a good enough explanation. And once again he would be without his daughter, but at least she was safe, and she’d remain that way as long as he had breath left in his body.

Exhaustion battered him, as did the sadness that came with waving goodbye to his daughter, and he leaned on Kane’s shoulder on the ride back to the house. Everyone was silent, the mood heavy. He was lucky, he knew that. He had people in his life who’d drop everything and run to him should he ever need them. For the longest time, it was only Isa and Henry in his life, and now, his family had expanded beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

It would grow more. He promised Kane a son. A son. Just those words made him smile.

He had a future to build and nurture, and Casimir Zaretsky wasn’t allowed to fuck with it. He was already formulating his plan of attack, but he’d need sleep before he could get the ball rolling as it should. He wasn’t in a rush. Casimir wasn’t going anywhere, and he and Dutch had decided to keep Monica’s well-deserved demise on the down low until the time was right.

Enough time and energy spent on other people. There were more important things to occupy his mind tonight. He took Kane’s hand and exited the SUV before following the men inside the house.

O.G. bounded up to them, tail wagging. “Put him outside,” Syren told Kane. “I’m gonna go shower.” Upstairs, he scrubbed from head to toe under the relaxing spray of the water. Damn, but he needed that. And now that his pace had slowed down, energy buzzed through his veins.

The fatigue melted away as if it’d never been. That was good because he had plans.

Clean and refreshed, he donned one of Kane’s crisp white shirts and a pair of red bikini panties before going back downstairs, his hair still damp. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped.

Moans drifted to him from the living room and he frowned then peeked in. Tommy was lying on his back half on, half off the couch, and Mateo was between his legs, sucking him off.

“I know you’re not fucking on my couch.”

Mateo flipped him the bird but didn’t stop what he was doing. Syren grinned and left the two alone. In the kitchen, he found Angel and Gabe. Angel had Gabe pressed up against the island, his back to Angel’s front. Gabe’s hands were up around Angel’s neck, fingers buried in his hair as they kissed and rocked against each other.

Syren had always liked watching those two make love. They didn’t really seem to care much about being watched. He stood there, bottom lip caught between his teeth as Angel’s hand disappeared down the front of Gabe’s jeans.

They were hot the way they moved together. Gabe’s eyes were closed, but Angel’s weren’t; his lashes were lowered, head bent as he bit Gabe’s neck.

Gabe jerked. “Fuck.” He spun around in Angel’s arms, a blur, and then they were kissing, Gabe’s ass against the counter, his legs now around Angel’s waist.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you kids to clean up when you’re done?” He didn’t expect an answer, but Angel grunted his way so he took it, licking his lips as he walked away. He opened the back door expecting to see Kane and O.G. in the backyard but instead got an eyeful of Pablo and Shane.

Now that one was a surprise. Pablo was naked in Shane’s lap as they sat on one of the wrought iron benches. Shane’s jeans were around his ankles and Pablo was riding him, slamming up and down on Shane’s cock.

Fuck. He spun away and made his way back to the stairs.

“God. Fuck, T. Fuck me harder.” Mateo’s voice was low, but definitely not low enough.

Syren went back to the bedroom and stood at the window overlooking the backyard, watching as Pablo got fucked. Syren couldn’t hear his cries, but he saw them. The floodlights out there were on, and the full moon helped to illuminate the two men’s faces. His own groin throbbed. He did like watching, and tonight was a revelation.

Turning his back on the window, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Footsteps sounded on the stars and then two seconds later Kane was there.

“Did you know everybody is fucking downstairs?” He shook his head and kicked the door closed. “It’s like a Roman orgy down there.”

Syren grinned and got up. He walked over to Kane, pressing himself to Kane’s back when he turned to toe off his boots.

“I like it.”

Kane chuckled. “I bet you do.”

Syren kissed him on the middle of his back, licking the ridges of his spine through his t-shirt. Kane trembled for him. Syren wrapped his arms around Kane’s waist and laid his head there, on his back. And Kane remained there with him, standing still so Syren could indulge in the feel and the smell of his husband, in the texture of his skin and the musk of his sweat.

Kane touched his hands where they connected at his midsection. “You want something?” Oh, the pretend innocence in that question, all fake nonchalance, as if he didn’t know how much Syren was needing him. As if the strained lines of his own body didn’t broadcast his own wanting.

Syren didn’t speak, he just stood there, and Kane grabbed his wrist and slung him around until Syren was thrown into the door, back first. He stayed there, eyes on Kane’s, seeing the concentration on his face and the stark hunger in his blue gaze. And when Kane got close, Syren fisted his hand in Kane’s t-shirt and yanked him closer, until their chests bumped.

“I want you fuck me.” He licked a wet trail from Kane’s shoulder up to his earlobe, nipped him. “Make it nasty,” he whispered.

Kane’s mouth tipped up. “I can do nasty.”

Syren let his eyelids droop and looked up at Kane through his lashes. “Yeah? You think so?” He slid his hand down Kane’s chest, over those abs where the muscles contracted for him, and cupped Kane’s erection. “I want this inside me in the worst way. Want to feel you digging me out, breaking me apart.”

Kane tore at the shirt Syren wore, buttons dropping at their feet. He mashed their mouths together, tongue stabbing inside. Syren surrendered to him with a whimper, a leg coming up to hook around Kane’s waist. Kane pressed their middle together, rubbing against him with a sharp thrust of his hips. Syren clutched at his shoulder, his waist. Wanted to touch him all over.

“Love when you get greedy.” Kane bit his bottom lip, bit him hard enough for it to hurt like a motherfucker, but Syren grabbed his ass, pulled him in. Calloused fingers trapped his nipples, pinched them as a hand swept down over his crotch and palmed him through his panties. He whimpered and moaned, head banging against the door. Kane’s touch on his skin was like gasoline on a bonfire. No rhyme or reason, but it was good, too good to pass up, to lose.

He leaned forward, nipping at Kane’s chest through his t-shirt. The hands on him retreated. Kane stepped away.

“Fuck no.” He made a grab for Kane but his husband stepped out of reach, walked over, and stood next to the bed.

“Come here.”

He went, gaze stuck on the fire in Kane’s eyes, at the adoration on his face and the wet swell of his lips.

“Panties. I want them.”

Syren stepped out of the red underwear, handing them over when Kane held out a hand. Kane bunch them up and brought them to his nose. Inhaled loud enough for Syren to hear, for his body to clench.

“Knees.”

Syren got on his knees, head tipped back to look up at Kane. The other man dropped the panties on the bed and pulled off his t-shirt and stepped out of his jeans, keeping his dark blue briefs on.

Kane just looked at him and Syren knew the next command. He buried his face in Kane’s groin, mouthing his balls through the underwear, lungs shuddering as he inhaled Kane’s scent. Like a fucking drug how that scent shot straight to his brain and took him to his happy place. He sucked Kane through the cotton of his underwear, used his teeth, but Kane loved that, loved the short, sharp nips that had Kane pushing his hips forward, fingers plunging and tightening in Syren’s hair.

Syren moaned at all the sensations, thrusting into the air, pre-cum drip, drip, dripping. He pulled down the elastic waistband of Kane’s briefs, hooked it around his balls. Kane stopped him before he could dip his head. He looked up. The fierce need on Kane’s face took his breath away.

“I want your mouth open.” Kane guided his cock to Syren’s mouth, tapped it against his lips. “Want to fuck it, watch you swallow me until your eyes water and you gag.”

Syren opened. As if he’d do anything else. Kane pushed in, no finesse, no soft shit, a ramming down Syren’s throat that immediately fucked with his gag reflex. His head snapped back as Kane thrust in and out, fast and hard. Using him up, surrounding him. He held Kane’s gaze, hollowed his cheeks, and let his husband go to town.

With a quirk of his lips, Kane jammed in and stayed. The tip of his cock felt as if it was lodged at least halfway down Syren’s windpipe. His vision swam, his scalp burned where Kane pulled his hair, and his balls hurt. All that pain, you’d think he wanted it to ease. No. He gave Kane his fingernails, racked them down his upper thighs, dug them in, and Kane moved them with a shout.

The force of his thrust rattled Syren’s teeth. He smiled in his mind. He swallowed when Kane pulled back a little, lashes fluttering at Kane’s sweet and salty pre-cum. He loved it and wanted more, but Kane pulled away, all the way out.

He grunted his frustration.

“So greedy.” Kane swiped a thumb over Syren’s bottom lip. Pushed two fingers in his mouth, thrusting them in and out as if they were his cock. Syren latched on, sucking them with loud wet sounds, moaning around them as Kane jerked himself off. Syren reached between his legs to fondle his balls.

“No touching yourself.” Kane moved the fingers and Syren grabbed his wrist, held him steady, and bobbed on the three fingers in his mouth, slobbering all over them. His saliva dripped down into Kane’s palm. Kane smiled at him, all white teeth, expression predatory. “I love you like this. Inhibitions cast aside, dirty as you wanna be.” He pulled Syren off his fingers. “Get on the bed.”

Syren couldn’t stand; he tried twice but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. Kane helped him, lifted him with a kiss to his nose, and deposited him onto the bed.

“On your back.” Kane stroked himself, his cock purple-red, shiny with pre-cum and Syren’s saliva. “I want to watch your eyes. Want to lose myself in your gorgeous eyes.”

Syren licked his lips and flipped onto his back, crab walking until he was in the middle of their bed, his head on the pillows.

Kane threw him the bottle of lube on the nightstand. “Two fingers. Prep yourself while I watch.”

“Ah fuck.” Syren couldn’t fucking think straight as he slicked up his fingers. He planted his feet flat on the mattress, knees apart, and reached down. Kane’s gaze was on his fingers as Syren fed first just one into his hole. He sank in to the last knuckle, breath stuttering in his chest.

Kane’s jaw tightened. His lips parted and he groaned when Syren groaned, Kane’s cock dripping a steady stream of pre-cum.

He paired the fingers. Pushed in number two, twisted. “God.” His cock jerked where it lay atop his stomach, wetting his navel with the sticky-sweet shit.

“I love you,” Kane whispered. His gaze was haunted as he looked from Syren to the fingers in his ass and back. “Love the shit outta your ass.”

“M-Marshal.” He couldn’t get his tongue to work right. “Love you too.” He fucked himself with the two fingers, pushing them in and out, grazing his prostate, and retreating quickly before he lost his mind.

“I love your rough edges, all the scars, all the things that make you you.” Kane moved between his legs, pulled out Syren’s fingers, and sealed his lips over Syren’s hole.

He screamed. Honest to God, he was aware of it as his hips lifted off the bed. Kane held his knees apart, tongue circling him there, pushing in and out.

“Ungh.” Syren grabbed Kane’s hair, holding his head where he wanted it as he lifted his lower half off the bed. He rolled his hips, head falling back as Kane’s wet tongue fucked him open. “Fuck. Fuck. Goddamn it, I love when you eat me.”

Kane chuckled and the vibrations rocked him, cracked him.

“Damn it,” Syren babbled. “Yess. Right there.” Tongue and fingers, Kane’s, stretching him wider and wider. “Shit,” he hissed. “Tongue is a monster.”

Kane moved away and Syren looked down. His husband was breathing hard, chest rising and falling, his face red and wet, eyes wild. He lifted Syren’s left leg, hooked it around his waist, and guided himself home.

Syren watched him, he wanted to, had to, but with every inch Kane fed into him, his head fell back a little more. And when Kane’s balls slapped up against his back, Syren was staring up at the ceiling, eyes wet from the burn, gasping for air.

“Like this?” Kane pulled out and slammed in.

“Fuck!” Syren vaulted upright then fell back. “Yes. Fuck me, harder.” He put both legs on Kane’s shoulders, lifted his ass, and took the pounding as Kane began a punishing pace on his ass.

“You gonna scream for me, baby?” Fingers dug into Syren’s hips as Kane held on and rode him like a fucking champion jockey. Every thrust rocked Syren to his core.

“Yes.” There was no sense in denying his marshal had turned him into a screamer. “Make me scream.”

Kane switched up his tempo, his sweat dripping onto Syren’s stomach. Syren swore he heard every drop sizzle when they landed on him.

“Deeper.” He yanked Kane down, grabbed his ass, pushing him deeper. “Oh God, Marshal, I need to feel you. In my fucking throat. Deeper.”

“Then you will.” Kane bit him, on his left pec, pinched a nipple. Syren clenched around him and Kane swore. “Fucking love how you squeeze me.” He licked Syren’s cheek, his nose. “Makes my balls ache.”

Syren did it again. “Love you.” He buried his fingers in Kane’s hair. “From the tips of my toes to the top of my head and everything in between,” he panted. “I love you.”

“You’d better. Got me beasting out for you.” Kane’s teeth flashed. “Got me killing for you.” He swiveled his hips, cock head dragging over Syren’s prostate.

“Ungh.” His body spasmed. He clawed at the sheets. “You loved it.” He writhed, cock sliding against Kane’s belly, leaving a sticky trail behind. “You loved pulling that trigger for me.”

Kane’s cock jerked inside him. “Fuck yes,” he grunted. “I did.” He kissed Syren, breath hot. Kissed him with sloppy, hurried strokes of his tongue. “You’re a bad influence. Gonna have to fuck that outta you.”

Syren locked his ankles above Kane’s ass. “You can try.” He met Kane, stroke for stroke.

Kane’s groans grew louder, the fingers at Syren’s hips grew painful. “Damn.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He bit Kane’s shoulder, bit him hard. Until his man cried out. Until his thrusts grew desperate. “Just like that. Just like—fuck! Ungh.” His words devolved into stupid, senseless chatter. “Feel you. I feel you, breaking me open. Oh, God.”

Kane hit his prostate dead on. Battered it, until sparks flew behind Syren’s eyes, and all he could do was hold on and scream through the inferno. “Oh, God. Fuck!” Cum shot, all over his stomach. He spasmed as the orgasm blew him apart. And he heard his voice as it rose loud in the room. He sounded lost, adrift. But with the touch of a rough hand on his cheek, he was anchored. He was home. Safe. And empty because Kane pulled out of him, making him wince and babble. “Fuck. No. No, please.” But Kane climbed him like a jungle cat, limbs shaking where they touched Syren. He sat on Syren’s chest, hands a blur as he stroked himself.

“Yes.” Syren palmed his ass, held him. “Do it. On my face, paint my face with it.”

And Kane did, coming with a loud rumble in his chest, cum splattering over Syren’s face and neck. He writhed under the thick heat of it and Kane was there, stretched out over him, licking it off, pushing his tongue into Syren’s mouth so Syren could taste it, taste him, and lose his fucking mind all over again. He held Kane, pulling his hair when Kane would’ve moved off, trapping him with his thighs, as he sucked on Kane’s tongue like he’d done his cock.

Kane rocked on him, softening cock pressed against Syren’s. And they kissed. Just kissed. Because Syren loved it, loved kissing his husband, loved how Kane’s arms trembled around him, loved how he sighed for Syren.

He broke the kiss to swipe a finger through the cum he knew was still on his forehead and wipe it over Kane’s lips. Kane licked it off. Syren did it again. And again.

“Nasty.” Kane kissed his finger, sucked it into his mouth.

“Which you love.”

“Because it’s nasty.” Kane sobered. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m so proud to call you mine. My husband. My partner.”

Syren’s eyes misted. “Someone’s angling for a round two.” Kane just grinned at him and Syren cupped his face. “We’re two very lucky sons of bitches, Marshal. I love you, you love me, and that’s all we need.”

“Along with our daughter.” Chin on Syren’s chest, Kane grinned, his gaze dancing. “And the men fucking like rabbits all over our house.”

“And lots of nasty sex.”

“Shit.” Kane hardened against Syren’s thigh. “I’m gonna need me a round two.”