Page 44 of Where Sinners Repent

“Kai,” I whimper, fear taking hold. “This isn’t funny.”

Whatever happens in here... it can’t be good. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the nausea and pure terror. The rowdiness of the club has fades. They won’t hear my screams.

A door squeals and he ducks beneath the door frame, pushing us inside.

Cold, stale air rushes over us; the scent of damp concrete and something much, much worse hits me; Strong chemicals, metallic rust, and death.

Darkness swallows us whole. Only thin streaks of moonlight spill through shattered skylights high above, painting silver lines over the concrete.

An echo rattles the dust as the door slams behind us. Every step he takes slows. Taunting me.

Against the chilled air, his hands on the backs of my thighs feel like a brand, even through the material of my pants.

In the middle of the cavernous building, he finally drops me to my feet. And now, I wished he hadn’t.

Chapter 11

Kaleb

It only took two minutes and thirteen seconds to secure her writhing body to the St. Andrew’s cross, and cut all her clothes from her body.

And another twenty-nine seconds to shove a ball gag into her pouty little mouth and strap it around her head.

My eyes take her in as I slowly circle her. Her body is so small. Round and soft. Dark patches of ink across every expanse of tanned skin. Heavy tits heave with each ragged breath, eyes full of the perfect mix of fear and fury following my steps.

Her mascara is smudged already. Red lipstick smeared from her fight while I shoved the rubber ball between her teeth.

God, she fought so hard.

Now she is stuck, bared to me with her legs spread and her arms strapped to the cross. The gag muffles each word she tries to say. Nothing but muted screams to make my dick hard. Stalking behind her, she goes taut, head twisting to keep her eyes on me. When I round her again, her eyes are fiery.

Loose black hair falls in her face, pulled free during her struggle. Icy blue eyes are so full of fire. She trembles as my knuckle drags down her tear-stained cheek. Teasing her delicate throat, tumbling over her soft tits, her chest heaving with panting breath. Music to my fucking ears.

My fingertips continue down to a tattoo. A black heat, and barbed wire. So intricate. So real.

My hand stalls, tracing the ink, painfully slow, as she squirms and whimpers more and more, my dick getting harder and harder, the anticipation of what’s to come, lighting us both on fire.

Whipping my hand up, I grip her loose ponytail in my fist, yanking her head back. One step closes the distance between us, her soft body pressing against mine.

Her nostrils flare with each laboured breath.

My grip tightens, only enough to make her defiance burn brighter. Around the gag, her lip curls. She refuses to look away from my cold stare, even as her breathing grows rougher. Her fury burns hot enough that I can feel it. Taste it.

I’ve had men piss themselves at this point.

Her shoulders pull against the restraints again, chains clinking with a sharp rattle. She testes every connection, every weakness, refusing to accept that there isn’t any.

The fight she puts up is impressive.

She lifts her chin another inch despite my grip around her dark strands. Although fear radiates in her eyes, there isn’t a trace of weakness.

Only hardness.

Only a silent promise that, given the opportunity, she’ll sink her claws into me.

With her cat eyes and dark hair, she reminds me of a stray cat.

I give her a small smirk, making her a silent promise of my own.