Devil's Sins

by Naomi West

  “They don’t need to.” He sighs as he slides down next to me. “This is the sorta shit that works on folks. We won’t die in here. Hell, unless they starve us to death. But we’ll get damn uncomfortable. Miserable. Desperate, maybe.”

  “They’re going to interrogate you,” I guess.

  He nods. “Yeah, looks that way.”

  “And me?”

  “I won’t let them hurt you,” he says.

  “But you can’t be sure, can you?”

  He shrugs, making an odd grunting noise. It’s like he hates me and loves me at the same time. “Why, Scarlett? Goddamn. You’ve really got some fire in you, eh? I reckoned you were a different breed when I caught you in the alleyway, but here …” He takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s heavy, weighing me down. But it’s warm.

  “You’ll get cold!” I protest. He’s only got a shirt on underneath.

  “I’ve been cold before,” he counters. “Worse, too. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Can you look at me, Cage?”

  With a visible effort, he turns to me. His eyes are full of pain.

  “Thank you for the jacket,” I say after a long pause.

  “A lot a good it’ll do.” He laughs humorlessly.

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  “Yeah, I reckon it is.”

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” I whisper. I feel vulnerable as I say it. But it feels necessary. It’s the bare truth.

  “I don’t hate you,” he says. He wedges his hand between my legs. “Share the warmth, eh?” He winks.

  Crazy, considering the situation; his touch sends those familiar tingles surging down between my thighs. My pussy twists in unbidden lust. He reads my face, eyes roaming over my face. Down to my legs. Back up again.

  “No,” he says. “Not here.”

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  He squeezes my thigh. I moan. He looks torn between two worlds. He squeezes harder and I moan again.

  “That feels good, eh?”

  “It does,” I whisper. “Really good, Cage.”

  He pulls his hand away quickly. It’s like he’s scared that if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to stop. He shakes his head, gritting his teeth. He’s shaking, but it’s not from the cold. I’m shaking, too, even though his jacket is keeping me relatively warm. It’s the lust, burning up within us both. I want to reach out and grab his cock. I don’t know what’s come over me. Maybe there’s a slim gap between fear and mad, whirring lust.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers fiercely. His voice is hoarse.

  “Like what?” I flutter my eyelashes. I know what I’m doing. I know it’s not the right time. But I can’t stop. I want him; want him bad. My whole body screams out for him. My pussy aches and twists. Demands. It demands most of all. Makes demands of him and makes them of me as well. “Hmm?” I place my hand on his leg, move it up toward his cock.

  He catches it just as I’m about to press my hand down.

  “What did I just say?” he growls.

  “I know,” I whisper. “I get it. But …” I sigh. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I withdraw my hand. “You’re right. It’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  We sit in surly silence for a while. The constant hum is only annoying when I notice it. I try not to notice it. But that’s like somebody telling me not to think of elephants. All I can hear is the humming once I decide I don’t want to hear it.

  “Do you think we’ll get out of here alive—”

  He cuts my question short by clamping his hand down between my legs. He slides between my thighs quickly and roughly. Then he rubs hard. I let my legs fall open. I don’t let myself think. I just go with it. The heat between my legs makes the cold of the refrigerator seem silly.

  “Be quiet,” he whispers close to my ear.

  “Y-yes,” I whisper, shivering as waves of pleasure move through me.

  “Tell me you want it,” he growls, his breath tickling my neck.

  “I want it.” It’s an easy thing to tell him. “I want it. Oh, I want it bad.”

  He rubs my pants even harder, up and down, grinding the fabric against my pussy. Warmth floods into me like a promise. I gasp, then clamp my hand over my mouth when he looks at me sternly.

  “You’re gonna come for me,” he says.

  He’s not asking. He shoves his hand down my pants. He finds my clit and rubs it so hard, I think he might graze it off. I can’t feel anything except for the burning and the slight twinges of pain. But the pain is small. The burning is massive. I shift my hips with the motion of his hand. Lock my eyes onto his stern face. He’s still angry, I can tell. That’s why he’s rubbing me so hard. But I like it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  On an urge, I paw at his pants. I undo the belt a little and slide my hand down. He looks at me most of the time. But every now and then, he glances at the door.

  “Come on my hand,” he demands. “I want to feel it. Your whole fuckin’ body, Scarlett. I wanna feel it all. Come hard. Now. Now.”

  I close my legs around his hand, trapping it. At the same time, I grab onto his cock. It’s hard for me as it always is. It’s solid. I grab onto it firmly and stroke up and down, right from his balls to the tip and back. I stroke faster, the quicker he rubs my clit. We move in unison, both pleasuring each other. When I make to kiss him, he nudges me away with his head. He has to keep watch on the door.

  Finally, he slides a finger inside of me. I’m so wet, he slides right up to my sweet spot. I have to bite down to stop from screaming. The pleasure isn’t just warm. It’s severe. It’s hurried and harsh. Aching. It takes all of me in its grip and doesn’t let go. I let out shuddering breaths between my tight-shut lips. They press through despite me.

  He massages my insides with his rough finger. Then he slides another finger inside of me.

  “You better come soon,” he growls. “You hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” I moan.

  He puts his free hand over my mouth.

  “Scream if you want.” He grips hard.

  I scream into his hand as the orgasm implodes. It feels like a tight ball of pleasure right at the ends of his fingertips. I drive my hips down as much as I can. He slides another finger inside of me. I jerk his cock even faster. The orgasm tears up from his hands right into my belly. Suddenly, I’m not just warm. I’m boiling. Sweat drips down my forehead. My wetness slides down his fingers, into my panties. Then he comes, the wet warmth covering my hand. That drives me even crazier. He’s coming right here. It’s dangerous. But we’re doing it together.

  I let out a final gasp and then lie back, feeling tired. For a blissful moment, I am satisfied. I forget where we are.

  Then we remove our hands. I wipe mine on a piece of cloth hanging from a shelf. Cage goes over to it and uses it to clean himself up as best he can. Then he returns to his place beside me.

  He leans his head against the wall, a strange half smile on his face.

  “At least we won’t die sexually frustrated, eh?”

  I giggle, then I laugh. I cover my mouth with my hand to stop them from hearing it.

  “What if you die with come in your pants, Cage?”

  He looks at me, grinning fully now. We both laugh like crazy people.

  11

  Scarlett

  We sit in silence for a while. It’s not awkward, but it’s not comfortable either. He’s still angry at me despite what we just did. I can sense it, coming from him like a smell. I glance at him. He glances back. His face is hard. His lips are set sternly.

  I sigh. “I’m sorry, Cage,” I whisper. “Really, I am. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just …” I trail off. “But why did you risk yourself for me? I don’t get it. We hardly know each other, not really. I guess you know about my parents, so that’s more than most people.” My voice gets low. It’s sad, I reflect. Sad that I can share this with so few people. Two, really. Krissy and now Cage. “Why?” I
blurt, suddenly so curious I can hardly bear it. “You didn’t have to.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “What was I gonna do, eh? Just let them kill you right in front of me?”

  “It would’ve been my fault.”

  “That wouldn’t’ve made it any better, goddamn. You reckon that would give me some comfort? I’m lying there at night thinking about the time I saw a lady I actually care about … I’d see you every damn night. No, Scarlett. It had to be this way.”

  “But why?” I look closely at him. In college, we learned to watch people attentively. It is a way for journalists to tell if an interviewee is lying to them. Or hiding something. Right now, I’m pretty sure that Cage is hiding something. “Cage?”

  He turns away. “What?” he growls. “I just told you, didn’t I?”

  “But there’s something else,” I say, knowing I’m right.

  “Is there?” he snaps. “You can read minds now?”

  “We could die here,” I mutter. “You don’t have to be cold anymore. When can you be real with someone, if not now?”

  He chews his lip. He looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. More nervous than I assumed he could look.

  “Cage?” I prompt.

  He massages the bridge of his eyebrows. “You really don’t know how to quit, don’t you?” But he’s smiling.

  “No,” I tell him. “I don’t. And I’m not going to.” I fold my arms. “So you might as well tell me.”

  “I haven’t even said there’s anything to tell.”

  “But there is. Isn’t there?”

  Another silence stretches. He drops his hands. Finally, he turns back to me. “There’s somethin’,” he agrees. “But what’s the use in dragging up the past? I reckon the past is better back where it belongs. Folks drag it up’n what do they get for their troubles?”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I whisper. “But you can. If you want to.”

  His dark green eyes burn into me. My pussy still aches from his hand. The refrigeration unit hums relentlessly. “Maybe I can,” he says. He’s talking more to himself than me. “Maybe now. Maybe with you. Fuck it.”

  I wait patiently. It takes him a long time to muster up the courage. He takes several long breaths. He lets out a huff.

  “You remind me of my little brother,” he says darkly. Keeping his voice low, as though he doesn’t want anybody else to hear. As though he doesn’t even want me to hear.

  “I didn’t know you had a little brother.”

  “Had.” The word seems to cause him pain. “Yeah, I did. He didn’t know how to quit either. Goddamn, Scarlett. He was just like you. I’d tell him to calm the hell down’n stop going where he wasn’t supposed to. He was only ten, the little bastard. But he acted like he was double that. We lived in a pretty rough area. Our house was right on some drug corner. I told him to wait at the bus stop for me, every day. I told him that every damn day, but he’d just walk right on by these gangsters like he was a fuckin’ giant. He didn’t give a damn. He was that sort of kid. He was brave. He wouldn’t let people scare him, even adults. He was braver’n me, that’s for sure.”

  “Where is he?” I ask. I regret the question right away. I think I already know.

  He looks at me gravely. “Sometimes he’d leave school and go walking up in these winding roads. They were bullshit, those roads. They never kept the streetlamps on. It was darker’n hell up there. I told him to stop it. But he didn’t listen. He reckoned it was his right to walk up there. It didn’t matter if assholes drag raced up there. No damn way was that gonna stop him.”

  I touch his hand. It’s shaking slightly. For a second, it’s like he’ll snatch it away. But then he grabs on tight.

  “One day he left, just the same as usual. I was gonna pick him up, but when I got to school, he was already gone. Nobody had any damn clue where. But I knew. I rode up into those roads, shouting his name. Isaac, his name was Isaac.”

  “You carved his name on your bike,” I remember.

  “Yeah.” He laughs gruffly. “No idea why.”

  “It makes you feel closer to him?” I offer.

  “Yeah, dammit. Maybe.”

  After a pause he whispers, “I found him on the side of the road. It was a mess, Scarlett. A damn mess. Some fuckin’ prick had hit him and left him there, left him lying there in his own blood.” He goes stiff. “I called an ambulance and I tried my best, but truth be told, he was dead already. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do except for hold onto him until they got there. The EMT fellas made a show of tryin’ to resuscitate him, but we all knew. In the end, this one fella just looked at me. Hit’n run, the police said. But they couldn’t find him.”

  He clenches my hand so hard it hurts. Gently, I pry it loose. He glances down at the hand and winces. “Sorry,” he mutters.

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “What happened next?”

  “Nothin’ fucking happened,” he growls. “That was the damn problem. I kept going to the police for updates’n they kept telling me they were doing everything they could. Then I met Jax. I started running with him. I met Boulder soon after and he helped me find the man who’d killed my little brother. He was one of those fellas I was telling you about, the gangsters who hung around near our house. It weren’t enough to make the kid scared, apparently. They had to kill him too. I won’t tell you what we did to him.”

  I swallow a lump as I imagine.

  “That’s awful.” I put my arm around him. I have to stretch my whole body to reach right over to his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’ve never told anybody about that. The brothers know, but I don’t talk about it’n neither do they. Hell, I haven’t talked about it since it happened.”

  “And I remind you of him?” I squeeze him tight. I need him to know he’s safe now. Everybody can be vulnerable. Even a giant, scary man like Cage.

  He laughs, then gestures at the room in general. “I reckon if Isaac’d lived, I’d still be in this damn refrigerator. Some folk just refuse to be scared.” He shifts, straightening up. I let my hand drop. His face hardens. “But I don’t wanna bore you to death with this shit,” he snarls. “Like I said, the past’s the past. The fuck am I gonna do now, eh? Fuckin’ hell. It’s over. It was over a long damn time ago.”

  “I still see Mom and Dad in my nightmares,” I confide. “Quite often, actually. I can’t help it. Sometimes I wake up crying.”

  “Really?” He’s the one who takes my hands now. He cradles them. “Looks like we’re both broken, eh?”

  I smile. I didn’t even realize I was crying. The tears slide warmly down my cheeks. “I guess we are.”

  He kisses the tears from my face. “Everything’s gonna be all right,” he says.

  “Is it?” I whisper. “How can you say that?”

  “’Cause even if I’m an outlaw, I’m not alone. My brothers’ll never leave me here to rot. I reckon Jax’d get himself killed before he let that happen.”

  “He loves you.”

  Cage shrugs. “I don’t know if we’d use that word. But I know he won’t leave me behind, not if he has the chance to save me.”

  “But all we can do is wait. And hope.”

  “Yeah. I reckon I’d have a chance if I was in here alone. Hatter wasn’t wrong about that. If I didn’t give a damn about living or dying, I might be able to do it. But it’d be too easy for them to just kill you if I tried anything.”

  “And all of this for my story,” I mutter. Guilt stabs at me.

  “How bad do you want a story?” he asks.

  “Bad,” I admit. “It’s like I told you. This is everything to me. I can’t explain it. Imagine if somebody told you that you couldn’t ride your bike anymore.”

  “There isn’t a damn thing in this world that’d make that happen. Is that really how it feels?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He lets his head fall against the wall. “I reckon we need to think up a compromise, eh? We can’t have you sneaking
around all the time. You’ll get us stuffed into a freezer next. Or a microwave.”

  I giggle. It feels good to laugh. Even if it hurts my side from where that man hit me.

  “What if we do it like this? I’ll give you everything we have on the Bloody Talons. But after this mess is over. And you don’t get anything about the Angels. Not a damn line. You can write all you want about another man’s club. But you can’t write about ours, Scarlett. We just can’t let that happen.”

  “But you’ll give me everything about the Talons?” I reiterate. I need to make it clear.

  “Yes,” he says firmly. “How about it? That sound fair to you?”

  I consider. Then I nod. “Yeah, I think so. I can work with that.”

  “Your curiosity won’t get the better of you?”

  I think. Ask myself the question honestly. “I’ll try not to let it,” I say after a long pause.

  “Then that’ll have to do, won’t it?” He smiles, but it’s a tight, pained smile. “I can’t believe I told you about Isaac.”

  “Do you feel better? I felt better after I told you. Even if I was drunk.”

  “I wish I was drunk. Yeah, maybe it feels better. A bit. I don’t know.”

  “You’re not as in touch with your feelings as me,” I tease.

  “Is that a bad thing?” he counters. “I reckon that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Men have to be hard. Women’re allowed to be soft. I don’t see the harm in that.”

  “I think some girls I went to college with would disagree with you.”

  “Hard bunch, were they?”

  “Well, no. But they don’t like it when people say stuff like that. They call it reinforcing stereotypes.”

  “I don’t know a thing about that. I just know what I see. I just know what the life demands. And it demands that men be tough’n women be soft so they can make the men feel better.”

  “Is that what you have, some club girls to make you feel better?”

  He looks directly into my eyes. Suddenly he’s very serious. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve already told you. I don’t do that shit.”

  “So I’m the special lady? Eh?”