Page 113 of The Boxing Baroness

“Not even once?” Her hand tightened and it was his turn to groan. She tried to guide him between her thighs, but he stepped back and slipped from her grasp.

“Uuuugh.”

Sin grinned at the genuine frustration in her voice.

She opened her eyes and scowled. “You are the devil.”

“I don’t understand why this is so difficult.” Indeed, Alanna had incessantly made hints about his name—and how it should be a mistress’s right to exercise such intimacy. But he’d left those hints unappeased.

Until this journey, Sin had only allowed those closest to him—his family and Guy—to use his nickname or Christian name. It was not a name for mistresses.

But then Marianne was not his mistress. Nor would she ever be family.

She was his lover.

“Marianne,” he whispered, pulling her close again and flexing his hips, grinding shamelessly against her taut stomach, his actions a graphic, but wordless promise of what he’d give her.

“Sin.” She growled the word into his collar bone and bit him.

“My real name.”

Her mouth moved south, until she’d captured one of his nipples, and she bit him again.

He gritted his teeth at the sharp stab of pleasure but stood his ground. “Say it.”

She said several very vulgar words.

“Tsk,” he teased. “Such language. If you can say those words, surely you can say—”

“Sinjinn.”

He gave a low, triumphant laugh. “There now,” he said, sliding a hand between her thighs, pleased when she opened for him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Her strong, slightly calloused hand pumped his shaft. “It’s very hard, actually.”

Sin felt her slickness even in the water. “I wish I could taste you,” he murmured against her temple, kissing her while sliding a finger inside her tight sheath and making them both groan.

“Mmmm,” she purred, her hand faltering and then releasing him entirely as he thumbed her stiff peak. “Oh, Your Grace,” she sighed.

Sin snorted at her relapse to his title. “So. Stubborn,” he grated through clenched teeth, using both hands on her now.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, bucking and thrusting.

“Yes, Marianne,” he hissed as he felt the first tremors of her climax begin to roll through her body.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and bit his chest as she cried out, her inner muscles clenching his fingers.

Sin cradled her bottom in his hands while she came down from the heights of bliss before asking, “Can you float on your back?”

“I don’t know—should I?” she asked in a dreamy voice.

“Fill your lungs, lie back, and trust yourself to me.”

She held his gaze, her eyes dark and heavy lidded. “With pleasure.”

He bent his knees just enough to slide her legs over his shoulders.

She began to sink and laughed. “This is hard.”