Coletrane:
Her name is Sinclair Chatham. Sin. That’s exactly what she is—walking, talking, in the flesh sin. She’s haughty, privileged, so goddamn starlet sexy, with an ass I want to grab and spank raw.
I want her to give herself over to me. I want her to lose that polished princess veneer. I want to strip away the money, the manicures, the maids, the immaculate façade.
I need her to be mine. But I’m a grunt. A biker. A tattoo artist. I’m blue collar all the way, and her family will probably shit bricks if they ever meet me.
Not to mention, I’m running from a bad past that’s about to catch up with me.
Sinclair:
I would never go for Cole in a million years. He’s gruff, rough around the edges—and covered in ink. He’s unapologetic, demanding, and sometimes scary as hell. He tells me what he wants, how he wants it, and why he’s going to ruin me for all other men.
Coletrane destroys my vanity, gets inside my head while he gets into my bed, and I can’t say no to him. He’s not what I expected—tender at times, taking no prisoners at others. He breaks me down, builds me up.
He is not my type.
They say opposites attract, and they’re right. I just didn’t expect him to turn my cushy life upside down and inside out. But it’s too late, and someone’s going to get hurt.
It’s no secret that I wasn’t overly in love with the
previous two books in this series, but I have enjoyed this author’s books so I
decided I was going to go ahead and finish reading the last book in the
series. Let me tell you, within the
first few pages I knew that this one was making up for the previous ones that
sort of let me down.
Coletrane is fucking HOT!
Like change your panties multiple times, reaching for your significant
other for some loving HOT. What I also
loved more than just his sexiness was that deep inside that tough chain
wearing, tattooed, bad boy biker, he was emotional, sweet, and in his own
emotional pain. He will surprise you
more than once, but let me make something perfectly clear. Just because he has that sweet emotional
side, it does not take away from even one millimeter of his hotness.
Sin is Cole’s perfect match in my opinion. He needed the sass and feistiness that she
brings, but he also needed the way she continues to show him that he is worthy
of her even when he has doubts. I loved
Sin’s character, she may have been a rich girl but she didn’t act like she was
better than anyone. For me to love a
female character as much as I loved Sin is rare.
We get to see the whole Retribution game throughout the book
and I loved a certain surprise party at the end. I can actually picture everything that
happened. Overall this one was my
favorite of the series, it had me smiling, laughing, hot and bothered,
emotional and last but not least I didn’t want to put it down. Rie Warren saved the best for last with Coletrane and I loved every single word.
GODDAMN. SIN LOOKED FIIINE. It was a Saturday. I guessed her idea of slumming it was wearing a sarong that bared the length of one of her amazing thighs, a pair of sandals that wrapped up her calves in soft leather, and a strapless top that hugged her fuckhot figure in all the right places.
And her idea of going ghetto must’ve been trawling down here by the train yards.
Shock carried across Sin’s face as she took in Trixxie, me, and the aforementioned cock ring.
“Oh, hon. You worried about a little cock ring? Cole has things up his sleeves you ain’t even—”
“Trixx,” I cut her off midstream.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll zip it.” Swooping into one of the back rooms, she poked her head out for a final zinger. “Call me if you need a fluffer for her.”
Sinclair stood just inside the door, shafts of sunlight making a halo of her hair. “Are you with her?”
“No. We’re coworkers. I don’t fuck where I earn money.”
“Then how does she know about your cock rings?” Staring at the silver ring I closed my fingers around, she perfected the hands on hips stance once again.
“Why? You jealous?” One of my eyebrows hooked up.
“Hardly.” She flicked back her amazing pure blonde curls and peered at me. “Just seems like something personal.”
“We tattoo and pierce each other, see half-naked bodies all day long. Ain’t much that’s personal around here, precious.” I punched my knuckles down on the counter, the muscles in my shoulders and arms bunching. “Your driver waiting outside?”
“No. I drove myself. I have my own license and everything.” She used that same give it to me, big boy breathy voice she’d taunted me with last night.
Like she knew exactly what I thought about her—overprivileged, unused to hard times, freewheeling and fancy-free without a care in the world.
Her soft green eyes widened to complete the look of total ingénue. Too bad her body spoke another story. And I knew she was taking me for a ride with this Little Miss So Innocent façade.
I stalked to the windows and checked outside. Then my mouth dropped open. I rocked on my heels. I looked some more.
I groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me.” Pressing my index finger to the window, I think I probably drooled. Like a fool. “Tell me that’s not yours.”
“All. Mine.” Her sultry whisper hit my neck, and damn, that was hot, but not as hot as the car illegally parked outside the shop.
A kick-ass ’77 Trans Am.
“Four hundred horsepower in that thing?” I asked.
“Kicks like a mule with the engine of a bull on ’roids.” Sin slid next to me as I goddamn salivated over the muscle car.
With the pop-out top windows and the massive hood bird decal an authentic red and black Firebird, the car was sex-on-four-wheels.
“Fuckin’ A.” I almost jizzed in my jeans. I wanted to fuck her in it, on it, see her drive it, and get behind the wheel with her in my lap. Fuck. “I thought you’d drive a Merc.”
“This is my weekend car.” Her fingers traipsed down my arm. “What can I say? I have a thing for hot rods.”
And I just happen to have the one for her.
It fucking thumped in my jeans.
Dragging myself away from the imminent girl plus car-gasm, I walked back to the counter and ignored the ancient black bakelight phone ringing at the far end.
“So, what can I do you for, Sin?”
And how soon can I do you?
“Sadie told me where you work.”
Of course she did.
I made no comment.
Sin glided across the floor as I heard Trixxie get on the horn in the room next door, answering the call I’d tuned out.
“I think I want some ink.” Sin stood right in front of me.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure yet. Can I see some examples?”
We-elll, there were photos all over the walls, but I just so happened to have some living art to show her.
“Sure.” I whipped off my shirt.
I wasn’t a small boy. I was a badass man. The muscles came from daily workouts. The height—a mere six foot two that put Sin half a foot under me—matched my framework. The tats? They detailed memories, moments, people . . . my life.
Sin sucked in a breath and her eyes grew wide. She rounded the counter. Her touch on my chest fizzled through my skin, but I stood stock-still.
I remained silent except for a low grunt when she tugged on one of the nipple barbells.
“You weren’t kidding about the piercings.” Her warm gust of breath hit my skin, causing havoc to my willpower.
“I might be an asshole sometimes, but I never lie.”
She licked me, right across one of the barbells, right there in the middle of the shop.
My hand flew into her hair, and I pulled her back. “Unless you wanna get your pussy reamed across the counter right now, you better stand down.”
She moved back so suddenly she almost knocked over one of the boxes on the counter.
I shuddered all over, lifting half-mast eyes to her. “I’m not about to mar your perfect skin. Tattoos are off the table.”
She was gorgeous. Untouched. Peaches and cream and obviously protected from the hot South Carolina sun.
And she looked sooo damn good as she was, glaring at me.
“I don’t take no for an answer.” Her leg slid from the slit of her sarong as she cocked her hip and curled her lips.
“Too bad, precious. Ain’t gonna happen.” I smirked as I approached her. “And I’m more than happy to say no to you.”
“Then I’ll just get your colleague to do it.” Her arrogant chin lifted.
“The fuck you will. You don’t need another damn thing on you.” I set my lips to her ear. “You’re sexy. A stand-out. A walking wet dream.” I licked those lush lips I’d kissed the night before—just a taste. “There is something I wanna do to you though.”
“What?” she whispered, searching for my lips as I pulled away.
“I’ll pierce your nipples.”
Her mermaid eyes flicked to mine then down to my nipples. “Like yours?”
“Oh, no. Although I’m sure you’d like that.” Lifting my hands to my chest, I tugged on the two barbells and twisted them.
Hot flames of arousal coursed through me.
Sin moaned through parted lips.
I’d been hard before, but now my cock suddenly broke new records stiffness.
My voice dropped, and I skimmed a hand down the clenching ridged muscles of my abdomen. “It can make your nipples ultra sensitive.”
Her gaze drifted lower, following the path of my hand. “I can see that.”
Leaning forward, I whispered against her ear. “For you I’d do hoops. Pretty little ones for what I bet are your pretty little nipples. Hoops I can attach things to, charms . . . ” And weights. And delicate chains . . .
Oh hell yeah.
Sin licked her bombshell lips.
I set my teeth lightly on her earlobe then bit down with firmer pressure until she moaned.
Drawing back, I observed her with a lazy smile. She practically trembled, and it was an insane turn-on seeing her lose her control.
“Unless you’re too much of a good girl?”
“I’ll let you do it.” Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she met my burning gaze.
I inhaled harshly, the image of her baring her tits for me, holding still while I pierced her nipples, overwhelmed me with a surge of animal-like lust.
Not yet though.
Dragging my shirt back on, I grinned. “You have to earn it first.”
“What?” Her voice rose several octaves.
“You heard me.” I checked the clock.
Twenty minutes until my next appointment. Definitely not enough time to do what I wanted to with her. Not here. Not now.
Sin wouldn’t go down without a fight, of course. That was what made baiting her so damn fun.
She shoved me on the shoulder when I turned back to my sketch.
“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear, Cole. I’m the Executive Director of The Fairley-Chatham Family Foundation. I manage millions of dollars per annum. I might’ve been privileged”—she stomped her foot—“but I work for what I have, and I’m damn successful. So if you think you can keep treating me like some harebrained flake just because of where I come from—”
“Then act like it, precious.” I cut her off mid-riff.
Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she got in my face, hissing, “Stop calling me that.”
I glanced behind her, then quickly pushed her away from me. Three rough-looking hoodlums were outside with their hands all over her car.
“You need to leave now.” I prodded her to the door, going cold all over.
“But I’m not done—”
“You’re done. We are done.” My voice flinty hard, I urged her to hurry up as the gang bangers strutted inside.
I got out and loped around to Sin’s side. I liked the way she waited for me to open the door and help her out—she was a woman who knew she was quality.
With a flash of those long bare legs, she slid up against me. Her body felt incredible, curves in all the right places the perfect counterpoint to the hard muscles of mine.
Brushing the hair back from her temples, my fingers lingered at her neck where her pulse drummed against my skin. I leaned down and tasted her lips, quickly delving into her mouth before retreating with a smile.
“I hope you’re ready for this, precious, because I’m gonna eat you up.”
“Out here?” Her pale green eyes twinkled.
I pulled her away from the car and guided her up the steps that created an open breezeway in the apartment building. My place was at the top and overlooked a tennis court.
“You play?” she asked.
I unlocked my door and ushered her inside. “Hardly.”
Flicking the light switch, the tidy, tiny living room shifted into brightness, and just then a calico fur ball darted into the kitchen with screeching yeowl.
“What was that?” Sin pointed after the fleeing feline.
“I dunno. I think it’s a cat.” I rubbed a hand over my chin. “Could be a cross between a porcupine and an overgrown chipmunk? I call it Pincushion.”
As she giggled I waved vaguely around the four-room place. “So this is it. It’s not luxurious but—”
“It’s so clean.” She left my side to walk around the living room, her fingers occasionally coasting along the coffee table and the sound system set-up.
“Right? And I don’t even have a maid.” Lounging against the doorway opposite her, I winked.
“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes.
In just five long steps, I caged her against the wall. “Oh, I don’t think you want me to do that.”
I twisted her head up and crashed my lips to hers. My tongue lunged into her mouth, stroking hers. Brutal. Hard. Wet. I swallowed the whimper that escaped the back of her throat, and her hands flew to my ass to pull me all the way against her.
With a grunt, I tore my lips free, licking them to taste more of her.
A sneer of lust crossed my face, and my voice came out in a low deep rumble. “The things I’m gonna say to you tonight will make you so hot you’ll be begging me to fuck you harder, faster.” I nipped and licked the neck she arched for my tongue and teeth.
“Cole!” she gasped.
“Make your body ache for my cock.” I pressed my hips against her just once so she’d know what she was getting.
Then I stepped back, watching her as she panted. Her hair disheveled. Her tits jutting. Her eyes heavy.
“But we gotta talk about how this is gonna go down first,” I said.
“We do?” She slowly regained her composure. “This about the control thing again?”
“Mm hmm.” I dropped onto the couch and patted the cushion beside me.
She approached slowly and perched next to me.
“I want to push you to the limit. Find out what your limits are.”
“Is this about the power struggle,” she asked. “Does that get you off?”
“Not as much as you completely giving yourself over to me would.”
She hissed a sharp breath, her back arching unintentionally.
Damn. She might not like giving away control, but her body sure seemed interested in the idea.
Her voice a little shaky, she asked, “So is this a BDSM thing?”
I laughed, a long low sound. “Why, precious? Are you into the scene?”
“Of course not,” she snapped.
“Nothing wrong with that, you know?”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “I didn’t mean to imply that there was. Just—”
“You’re a good girl?”
Biting her lip, she gave a hesitant nod. She had no idea how hot she made me, just that little shot of insecurity in an otherwise totally impressive babe.
I scooted closer, dragging my fingers up her bare arm to the soft skin of her shoulder. “Wanna be my good girl?”
Again with the hesitant nod.
Jesus.
I withdrew my hand before I could be tempted to run it all over her smokin’ body. “It’s not a BDSM thing with me. I don’t call it that. Don’t call it anything. It’s just how I like to fuck.”
She made a small noise, and her thighs parted just a little bit. She was so ripe for this, right for me.
My voice lowered. “I don’t want to be your Dom or your Master or your Daddy. It’s not about pain. It’s about letting go. Finding out what gives you pleasure, and sometimes that’s not always orthodox.”
Her breath stuttered in an out as she shifted her gaze to me, her eyes sweeping over my face, my shoulders, my chest. “Do you ever just have sex?”
“Vanilla sex?”
Sin nodded, her cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink.
“I like all kinds of sex. Kinky. Straightforward fucking. Fast. Hard.” I turned toward her and kissed her lips between each subsequent word. “Long.” Kiss. “Slow.” A lingering touch of my tongue on hers. “ . . . anal.”
Her body snapped against mine, and her lips opened, her tongue rolling into my mouth.
After the soul scorching kiss that set my balls on edge, I eased my lips to her ear. “But if I’m really into a woman—and I’m really into you”—goddamn understatement—“I need to know it’s okay if I fuck you the way I want to.”
I leaned back. “So what do you say, Sin. Are you in?”
“I’m in.”
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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