Sinful Hands: (Lucas & Chanel #1) Read online

  Copyright © 2022 by T.L Smith

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover – RBA Design

  Photographer – miguelanxo

  Editor – Swish Design – Ink Machine Editing – Nice Girl, Naught Edits

  Proofreader – Cruel Ink Editing

  Model - Sergio

  Created with Vellum

  Warning

  This Ebook contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Contents

  Blurb

  Variety Gossip

  Prologue

  1. Chanel

  2. Chanel

  3. Chanel

  4. Chanel

  5. Lucas

  6. Chanel

  7. Lucas

  8. Chanel

  9. Lucas

  10. Chanel

  11. Lucas

  12. Chanel

  13. Lucas

  14. Chanel

  15. Lucas

  16. Chanel

  17. Lucas

  18. Chanel

  Variety Gossip

  19. Lucas

  20. Chanel

  21. Lucas

  22. Chanel

  23. Lucas

  24. Chanel

  25. Lucas

  26. Chanel

  27. Lucas

  28. Chanel

  29. Lucas

  30. Chanel

  31. Chanel

  Variety Gossip

  Unlikely Queen

  About the Author

  Also by T.L Smith

  Blurb

  Lucas

  I was obsessed from the beginning.

  And once I have an obsession.

  It’s best you don’t get in my way.

  * * *

  Chanel

  I tried to stay away.

  He was the one who was whispered about on the streets.

  The viper that, once he had a taste, would hunt you down and collect you.

  And Lucas liked to collect things.

  One of those things was me.

  Variety Gossip

  The City’s Bad Boy

  * * *

  You’ve missed me, haven’t you?

  I certainly have missed you all.

  But first, before we dive into everything else, have you seen our notorious, always-up-to-no-good, sinful-as-sin Lucas Rossi?

  Cousin to the one and only king of the underworld, Keir Rossi.

  But do we know much about Lucas other than he can look at any woman and make her question whatever relationship she is in?

  Sources say he likes to do the dirty work.

  That there is no other like him.

  I guess it’s time we did some digging.

  What do you say, readers?

  Prologue

  LUCAS

  * * *

  With my back arched, and my knees bent, I wonder if I should stretch.

  Is that what people do? Fuck what people do.

  “We need to talk about this.” Keir’s voice is right behind me, but my eyes aren’t focused on him.

  “About what?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Lucas.” A smirk stretches my lips, but he can’t see from where he’s standing. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I guess you’ll never know.”

  “Oh, I know! We all fucking know, Lucas.” I hear him take a breath, but I stay where I am. “They are not toys.” I look back over my shoulder at him—he appears so large, towering over me. And he is, but I merely smile up at him, showing my teeth at his insistance.

  “It’s best you be on your way, boss.”

  “Fucking hell, Lucas. One day a woman is going to knock you on your ass and I’m gonna pay her to do it.” He stalks off, shaking his head, leaving me there crouched and wondering…

  When is the perfect time?

  Is it now?

  Or should I wait?

  I like the anticipation of waiting.

  But let’s be honest, I am far from a patient man.

  “Lucas.” I stand, slowly, turning back to see Keir getting in the car. “Behave.” Then he is gone.

  Behave?

  There’s no such thing.

  Making my way into the bar and brushing off the dirt from my knees, I smile at the person my eyes are set on. What a pretty little bird.

  I stride right over to her, and her eyes go wide, before offering me a small smile.

  “Lucas.”

  “Mmm.” She looks behind her to her friends, who glance the other way.

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “Yes, about that. Let’s go.” I nod toward the door, and she waves goodbye to her friends.

  You see, I’ve had a taste of this one before.

  But the smell has changed.

  This one though, she was my therapist.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have mixed business with pleasure.

  “How are you, Lucas?” she asks as we get outside.

  I keep walking down the alley, not adjusting my pace for her heels, and she follows behind, not questioning where we’re going.

  “Why don’t you ask what you really want to, Sarah?” I turn back to see her put a piece of hair behind her ear.

  “You’ve been staying away. You have missed vital appointments, Lucas. You need help. You know this.”

  “I thought that’s what you were doing when you spread your legs for me, Sarah. Helping.” I let the last word tumble from my lips. The river is coming into view as we walk out of the alley and onto the side of the street.

  “I was helping. We could have gotten somewhere, Lucas. You have a problem, and the more you work on it, the more maintainable it can be.”

  “And what exactly is my issue?” The water is next to me now, but she keeps her distance. I reach out and pull her close. Her eyes glance at the water before they fall back to me.

  I run my hand along her curvy edges—I like that she has something to grip onto. But it’s not enough to keep me hooked.

  It’s… the way she smells.

  It has changed.

  “Lucas, should we make a time for you to come back?” Her voice is shaky because she’s nervous.

  She should be.

  The back of my hand touches her face, and I stroke down. Her crystal-clear blue eyes watch me.

  “I don’t think that’s gonna work any longer,” I tell her, dropping my hand lower until it goes over the curve of her breast. She sucks in a breath, but I keep on dropping lower and lower.

  “Why not?” She shakes her head as her lips press together.

  My fingers meet the edge of her dress, and I slide it up until I get to her panties, which are already wet.

  “Are you excited to see me, Doctor?”

  “Lucas.” Her voice comes off raspy when we both know she’s trying to stay still.

  “Yes, Doctor?” I push her panties to the side and insert a finger. It slides in easily, and her hand lifts to touch my shoulder.

  “We shouldn’t,” she says the words but leans into my touch, as I add another finger effortlessly.

  “But we are, Doctor.” My fingers slide in and out while my thumb applies pressure to her clit. Her forehead lays on my chest while my fingers work their magic. I feel her tightening around me, and as she does, I pull the
m free. She groans, lifts her head, and looks at me with narrowed eyes.

  “That’s unfair,” she mutters, her voice strained.

  I smile and push my fingers back in, two of them, with my thumb circling her clit. She is ready for me, and she can feel it too as her other hand moves to my wrist to try to get me to keep going. To not move as she’s coming. “Don’t stop, Lucas. I don’t want you to stop this time.” She’s talking about how I used to fuck her.

  “But remember how hard you would come, Doctor… all over my hand.” There’s no other part of me touching her apart from my hand in her pussy. Her hands, though, are all over me.

  “Not this time. Don’t tease me this time,” she almost begs, her hands gripping my jacket and legs trembling as she gets closer.

  “Okay, only this time.”

  Sarah sighs, and her head lolls back to my chest while I pump my fingers in and out of her. When I feel her tightening around my fingers, I use my other hand to push her chest back. “Watch me, Doctor.” Her crystal-clear eyes link to mine. “You thought you could be the one to cure me, to make me better, didn’t you?” I pause my fingers when she doesn’t answer.

  She whimpers.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she replies, bringing a smile to my face. My fingers begin moving again, curling to brush that spot which will push her over the final edge.

  “You can’t fix me, dear. I’m already amazing.”

  It’s then she sees the real me, even in the midst of coming.

  My free hand now holds a knife.

  “It’s impossible to fix something already perfect, Doctor.” Then, ever so lightly as she comes, the knife slides across her throat while my hand continues to fuck her. Her moan is interrupted when she chokes on the blood quickly cascading down her chest, her eyes never leaving mine as they grow wider with shock. “See, perfect.”

  I pull my fingers free and feel my smile spreading as she tries to move away with her hand now firmly grasping her throat. “And you thought you could try to pass on my notes to the police. How stupid do you think I am?”

  I step closer as she takes another step back, her hands on her wound trying to stem the blood flow as the river streams behind her.

  There is no escaping.

  “You were fun, though. I learned so much about myself.” I wink, huffing a laugh. “But all good things must come to an end. Goodbye, Doctor.” I give her shoulder a gentle push.

  Both of her hands leave her neck, as she tries to grab me to stop from falling in, but I step aside and watch. Her mouth opens to release a pointless, garbled scream as she stumbles and plunges into the murky depths of the water below.

  Wiping my hands on my trousers, I take one last look at her disappearing form, then leave.

  Goodbye, Doctor. It was fun while it lasted.

  It always is until they no longer interest me.

  1

  Chanel

  He grunts—I hate him.

  Grunt.

  Grunt.

  Grunt.

  Just imagine it.

  But he isn’t the worst.

  He’s just… a grunter.

  Again, it could be worse.

  Tonight isn’t a typical bad night, but I’m over it already.

  His grubby hands grip my waist, and I instantly want to roll off and tell him he needs to go home and fuck his damn wife. Stop being unfaithful. Go home to his kids and spend the money on them.

  But why would I do that?

  That would be like cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face, right?

  He pays nicely, and I’m a whore. A hooker. A trollop. A prostitute. Whatever they like to call those of us who let men pay us for sex.

  The client always takes off his wedding ring, like it’s sacred to him. Like this little soirée is meant to be some sort of secret that the ring might give away, but we always know the truth.

  Let’s face it, it’s mostly married men who engage in our services. The ones who want things they are too afraid to ask their partners for but are more than happy to request from us. Probably because they’re paying and trust that no matter how much we might think of them as scum, we aren’t going to voice it.

  And believe me, I’ve wanted to voice it.

  Many, many times.

  But then again, I have no right to say shit.

  Why even stay married, though?

  If you’re not happy, just leave.

  Not one person in the world is stopping you, except you!

  I don’t ever see marriage in my future. I’m what you’d call ‘from the bottom of the barrel.’ Trash. I know it, and I also know that no respectable man will ever want me.

  And I’ve come to terms with that.

  I’ll let you in on a little secret—the respectable men usually stray. Yes, I know, not what you wanted to hear, right? It’s not always what you think…or should I say, who you think would use our services.

  And these so-called ‘respectable men’ where do they end up, you ask?

  In this cheap-ass hotel room telling me all about their wife at home and what she won’t do. Some, as I said, like to keep it a secret, but most want to vent out their frustrations.

  She doesn’t like doggie.

  She won’t suck my cock.

  I want to call her a whore in the bedroom, but I’m afraid she’ll take it personally and leave me and I don’t want her to leave me.

  But, hello! So instead, you cheat and fuck other women?

  Let’s be real in this and not tell lies.

  They all lie.

  All men lie.

  One day, when I meet a man who doesn’t lie, I may just marry him—guess that says everything because I doubt there is one out there.

  I don’t for one minute believe that statement.

  In my line of work, they are liars, cheats, and bastards.

  Even this asshole, who I am currently sitting on, and not fucking. No, he just wants me to grind on him.

  This shit does nothing for me.

  And let me tell you, when I was a teenager, I used to love it. But with someone I don’t find attractive, no matter how hard I try to replace the face with some hot celebrity, I can’t seem to get into it.

  “Fuck yeah, baby, you like how that feels.”

  “Oh, yeah, baby.” The lie slips from my lips so easily. No kidding, I could be an actress.

  Mental note—start looking into auditions.

  Could I be any more disinterested? Now I’m thinking about impossibilities.

  He moves faster, and I know he’s almost there.

  Men have weird desires, but this one isn’t out of the ordinary, so I have it easy tonight because it could be far, far worse.

  “Tell me how much you love my cock, you dirty little slut.”

  See, he’s one of those who wants to talk to his wife like this, but is too afraid.

  “So much.” I pretend to fake cry out in pleasure when really I want to cry out in frustration.

  His eyes light up at my believable expression and he bites his lip.

  “Let me kiss you.” He groans that way men do when they’re close, and I totally ignore his command. I watched Pretty Woman once, and the no kissing thing kind of stuck. I’m saving that for the one that might mean something to me. Yeah, even that sounds ridiculous to me.

  I pre-warn them all.

  They all agree, until they’re in the throes of pleasure.

  Most will try.

  None ever succeed.

  If I must give away my body for money, you can guarantee I’m not about to give away my kisses to just anyone.

  But as I grow older, I think the one is elusive and will be harder and harder to find.

  The guy’s phone starts ringing. He glances at it, but he’s too close now so he won’t stop. The cell quiets, then rings again. This time it’s a different ring tone, and within seconds, he has me off him and thrown to the side, his cock still hard as he gets up. I stand, brushing my hair to the side, and sta
re at the wet patch on his jeans.

  “Sir,” he answers, and his eyes fall to his cock. He takes a moment to fix himself up.

  That, for sure, isn’t his wife, which I assumed it was. He nods his head a few times and looks back at me. His eyes skim my dress, but he continues listening to whoever is on the other end of the call.

  I gather my purse and look back at him.

  He holds out the rest of the money to me, and I walk over to take it. When I grip it, he doesn’t let go.

  “Okay, sir, I’ll be right there.” He hangs up.

  “I take it that isn’t your wife.” I smile.

  “No, but I’m more afraid of him than my wife.”

  I nod. There’s only one man in this city who could evoke that level of fear, and I stay well and truly far away from him.

  “You should stay. I’ll be back later.”

  “No can do, big boy.” I give him another fake smile. “I have things to do. You know this.” They know they have to book time with me. They can’t just order me to come back whenever they want. It won’t fit in with my schedule.

  This isn’t a hook-up for my pleasure. This is what they pay for, so it’s all about their satisfaction. Believe me, I get nothing from this, ever.

  “I want to see you again.”

  I glance down at his ring. What was his name again? I can’t remember. I choose to not remember their names. It’s easier that way, so I pat his chest and hum, “You know what to do, then.” I pull the money from his grasp and head toward the door.