The Wrath of Sin

by Melissa Andrea

  First, she called me out on my shit, and then she went head to head with me. She was a firecracker, and if this were any other situation, I would’ve fucked her already. But that wasn’t in the cards, which sucked since it was the first time in years that a woman had me so crazy in my boxers.

  I walked toward the kitchen and poured myself another shot. It didn’t go down as smooth as I wanted it to so I took another.

  When I was back inside her room, I fell victim to sleep-inviting darkness. The soft sounds she made while she slept were like a lullaby, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down, too.

  Leaving the door open to her bathroom, I took a piss, splashed cold water on my face, and brushed my teeth with my finger. Turning off the light, I walked back into her bedroom and locked the door.

  I knew that wasn’t going to be enough, and if she woke up before me, there was a good chance I wouldn’t hear her try to leave the room, but sleep was winning. The bastard had failed me repeatedly until I wanted nothing to do with him.

  Looking at her sleeping body, I knew I shouldn’t. I fought myself every step toward her bed, but when I pulled back the blankets on the empty side of her bed and sat down, her warmth reached my thigh through my jeans and sent relaxation through my limbs.

  She stirred when the weight of my body shifted the mattress. A soft moan escaped her lips as she rolled onto her back, and the sound was torture.

  Pulling the black stocking from my pocket, I lightly wrapped it around her wrist a few times and knotted it over and over before attaching it and doing the same to my wrist.

  I knew she wouldn’t be able to get those knots out without waking me up in the process. Lying down, I let my body mold itself into her mattress and sleep claimed me.

  23

  Emily

  I wasn’t sure how long I slept, when a loud noise woke me. The sun from the half-opened curtain cut into my eyes and lit up the side of the room. I sat up quickly and a heavy weight pulled on my arm.

  My stocking was tied around my wrist and attached to my captor—Sin. I didn’t know what more to think of his name other than the fact that it was another way to mock me.

  A small moan escaped Sin’s mouth and captured my attention. He was moving his head back and forth, a look of pain all over his face. Sweat poured down his forehead as he struggled against the blanket covering him.

  “No! You can’t let her die. Please don’t let her die!” he screamed out.

  It’d been a long time since I’d heard such raw anguish before. It made me ache for this man in ways I shouldn’t.

  “Don’t die, Chelsea! Please…” he whined.

  I knew it was wrong, but I reached out and pushed a thick piece of hair from his eyes. He was still struggling with the blanket and I pulled it free from his body. His entire shirt was covered in sweat.

  “Hey,” I said as I softly shoved his shoulder.

  Still, he didn’t wake up. Instead, he thrashed around harder.

  “Please don’t die!” he screamed out one final time.

  I reached down and laid my palm against his cheek.

  “Shhh, it’s okay,” I whispered as I tried to calm him.

  He yanked his arm hard, pulling me toward him. I didn’t have time to balance myself and I fell across his chest. His body felt hard and strong beneath me. His wide shoulders engulfed me as he held me close in his arms. He looked up at me, confused, with wide eyes. He looked like a man who’d just returned from a trip to hell.

  “Nightmares?” I asked. When he said nothing, I continued. “Are you okay?”

  His breathing was fast and deep. He released me as he reached up and used the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Still, he said nothing.

  I crawled off of him and he let me. I adjusted my clothes and wiped the sleep from my eyes as he pulled off the stocking from his wrist and sat up, dropping his head forward. It took me a little longer to unknot and untie my end, but I finally got it and rubbed the imprint.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “What?” he said, aggravated.

  “Who’s Chelsea?” I asked softly, unable to control my curiosity.

  “I’m not one of your patients. This isn’t a session so don’t try to work me, Red.”

  “It was just a question.”

  “Rule number three: don’t ask me questions.”

  “Now we have rules?”

  “There’s always been rules.”

  “What’s rule number one and two?”

  “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “What happens if I break them and I don’t even know it?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Whatever. I want to take a shower.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Go.”

  I got up quickly and nearly ran toward the bathroom, afraid he might change his mind or worse.

  “Need any help?” he called at my back. I froze inside the door between my bedroom and bathroom.

  “No,” I snapped, slamming the door behind me before he could respond.

  I leaned against the door, letting it hold my weight as I took a deep breath. I knew I hadn’t gotten very much sleep and my brain felt sluggish, but I needed to think.

  My heart jumped into my throat, choking me, as a loud knock sounded on the door.

  “Leave it unlocked,” he demanded. I didn’t respond, and he got louder. “Do you hear me?”

  I rubbed my fingers into my eyes and dropped my head back against the door, staring up at the ceiling. He wiggled the door handle roughly.

  “If you don’t answer me, I will come in there, I will undress you, and I will wash every—”

  “Okay!” I yelled.

  Damn him! Damn him straight to hell!

  Moving to my shower, I opened the glass door and turned on the spray, knowing I needed to work quickly. Going through my dirty hamper, I found a pair of my workout shorts and slipped them on. Going to the small bathroom window, I unlocked the first lock at the bottom and then turned to watch the door.

  One, two, three… I mentally counted to five in my head before turning around and reaching up on my toes to unlock the second. I slid it open and sunshine and fresh air filled my now steamed bathroom. Again, I looked back at the door and waited. Nothing.

  The window was too high for me.

  “Shit!” I whispered and looked around my bathroom for something to stand on.

  Tiptoeing past the door, I picked up the small plastic trashcan and emptied it into the sink. Setting it down upside down on the floor in front of the window, I stepped onto it. It wasn’t much help, but it would do.

  I lifted myself up onto the window and the metal seal dug into my stomach, but I ignored it, wiggling myself farther out the window. Hesitating, I realized my only option was to fall face first into the bushes below, so I perched on the windowsill and worked up the nerve.

  My scream pierced the morning when his hands gripped my thigh and pulled me back in. The windowsill cut into my stomach and tears stung the corners of my eyes.

  “No!” I yelled as I kicked at him with my other leg.

  It was no use. He pulled me back into the bathroom with barely any effort on his part. His hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my cry as he pulled me into him.

  His grip was angry and so was the breath he hissed against the side of my face. Moving toward the window, he closed it and then flipped me around. The back of my head snapped back as he pushed me against the wall.

  Pain shot through my skull as he slammed me against the wall. Tears streamed over my cheeks as I slid down the bathroom wall and onto the floor. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I cried into them.

  Neither of us said anything. He turned quickly, throwing open the shower door and shutting off the water.

  “Your shower privileges are officially gone.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, lifting my head to glare at him.

  I stiffened as he walked toward me. A brief moment of fear washed over me as he
pulled me up by the arm and slammed both of his fists into the wall beside my head. Bits of white plaster trickled down, landing at my bare feet.

  “Believe me, Red, I’ve already been fucked. By God, by life, by your father, and even by you!” He sneered.

  An hour later, I found myself fully clothed and tied to the trusty kitchen chair. I was starving, the back of my head was killing me, and I felt disgusting since I’d missed my chance for a shower. I guess that’s what I got for being stupid enough to plan an escape out of the bathroom window.

  At least I wasn’t blindfolded anymore, and at least he wasn’t sneering at me every time he looked at me. Instead, he walked back and forth across my living room as if walking gave him all the answers.

  I wiggled in my chair when my butt started to fall asleep. He stopped to look over at me like I was trying to run away again. It was that exact moment that my stomach began to protest. The growl that filled the room was embarrassing and manly.

  Sin’s eyes went large and the side of his mouth lifted.

  “Hungry?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Starving.”

  He dug through my refrigerator, pulling out eggs and cheese. He didn’t even ask what I wanted as he quickly whipped up a cheese omelet like he was a professional chef.

  The smells of good cooking wafted throughout the kitchen, making my stomach growl even louder.

  Once he was done, he untied my hands and set a plate in front of me. All it was missing was the signature useless greenery for decoration. The omelet was beautiful. Cheese oozed from the edges and begged me to devour it.

  “Do you cook a lot?” I asked as I scooped up a forkful.

  I shoved it into my mouth like the starved woman I was and practically moaned in pleasure. It tasted even better than it looked.

  “I used to,” he said bluntly as he took a bite of his own omelet.

  “Not anymore?” I asked around a mouthful of cheese.

  It was totally unladylike, but then again, he’d seen me at my worst, and who gave a rat’s ass what he thought of me?

  “No.”

  “Why not? You seem to enjoy it, and you’re pretty good at it.”

  Tossing his fork onto his plate, a loud clank echoed through the tiny kitchen.

  “Give it a rest. It’s a damn omelet. I mixed a few eggs. What’s with all the questions?” he asked roughly.

  “I’m just trying to figure you out. I watched you. You love to cook, yet you said you don’t anymore. Why?”

  He took another bite and sighed. “I don’t have anyone to cook for anymore.”

  Pain flashed across his eyes, and I wanted to pet him like a wounded animal.

  “Who did you used to cook for?” I asked. I knew I was pushing, but I couldn’t help myself. “Did you cook for Chelsea?” I used the name he’d been calling out in his sleep.

  The plate broke in two as he lifted it and slammed it onto the table.

  “Enough!” he growled.

  I said nothing as he stood and dropped his broken plate and half-eaten omelet into the kitchen sink. I didn’t know what it was, but I followed behind him. He was hurting so badly, and even though I knew I shouldn’t care, I wanted to help him.

  “You can talk to me, you know?” I said.

  “I told you to stop trying to work me. I’m beyond help, Red.”

  “No one is beyond help. Not even you… Sin.”

  “The fact that my name is Sin should tell you I’m a lost cause.”

  “I’ve yet to meet anyone that was a lost cause.”

  “You think you can help me?” He pressed against me, trapping me between him and the counter. “You think if I lay my head in your lap and let you pet it while I cry and tell you all my problems you can fix me and make me all better?”

  “Why do you have to mock everything I say and do?”

  “Do I? What does it matter? Why do you care what I think? I’m the piece of shit scum who’s keeping you hostage in your own home.”

  “You said you have a good reason. I believe you.”

  “You do, do you? Just like that?”

  I swallowed hard. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get myself into more trouble than I needed. Sin was smart. It was crazy, but he was unlike anyone I’d ever met. He could see through me and it scared the shit out of me.

  “It’s human nature to survive. When we feel like we’re being backed into a corner, we’ll do anything we must to survive. That’s what you’re doing, right? Trying to survive.”

  “I’m just trying to get through one day to the next, Red.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with asking for a little help, Sin. It doesn’t make you any less of a man to—”

  “Wait, is that why you think I don’t want help? Because I’m worried about being less of a man? Red, you couldn’t be more wrong right now if you tried.” His hips moved against mine, and I all but liquefied into a puddle at his feet. He leaned over and his breath tickled my ear. “But if it’s proof you need, I’ll be more than happy to deliver.” His lips brushed the rim of my ear as he spoke.

  “You do that whenever you think I’m getting too close for comfort.”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  I gasped when I felt the smooth edges of his teeth on my earlobe.

  “Use sex as a weapon. You came into this plan unarmed and the minute you found out I was attracted to you, you thought you figured out my weakness. But that’s not what makes me weak, Sin.”

  “Is that an invitation to let me figure out your weakness, Doctor?”

  He twisted his fingers around a fistful of my hair and pulled until my neck arched. His breath was warm and savory with the hint of whiskey.

  “You’re trying to get under my skin.”

  “That seems fair since you’re trying to do the same with me. Isn’t this what you were asking for when you walked up to me in the restaurant? Excitement? Someone to take control and show you exactly what you’ve been missing?”

  “Yes,” I answered honestly. “And if it was anyone but you in any situation than this, I’d probably already be on my knees. But it’s not.”

  I tried to keep the breathy gasps from escaping during my whole spiel. Truth was, I was a damn liar. Not about the situation part. I did wish Sin wasn’t using me for some twisted agenda against my father, but I didn’t think anyone else could make me feel the way Sin did.

  “You think someone else could make you feel like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying, Doctor.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to know that.”

  “Maybe not, but your body says differently. It responds to me.”

  “It’s responding to the situation. You’re mistaking my fear for lust.”

  “Keep it up, Doc. You’re just piling up the lies.”

  “I’m not lying,” I insisted weakly.

  He moved so he was staring down into my face. He was so close. Only a matter of measly inches separated us.

  “So if I were to kiss you right now, you’d feel nothing? Nothing at all.”

  “Nothing.”

  His breath teased my lips and I held my breath. My heart beat furiously against my chest and fear ran wild through my veins. Not fear that he’d kiss me, but fear that he would and I wouldn’t want him to stop.

  I nearly screamed as my doorbell echoed throughout my apartment. Sin tensed, moving away from me. We both looked at my door as if we expected it to open on its own.

  “Who is it?” he hissed quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  I wasn’t expecting anyone. I rarely got company, and the two most likely people to be on the other end were both out of the country.

  “Ask who it is.” He grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the door.

  “You don’t have to be so rough,” I hissed, trying to pull my arm free, but he wouldn’t allow it.

  “Ask.” He ignored me and pushed me again.

  Taking a deep breath, I asked, “Who is it?”r />
  “Police! Open up.”

  24

  Sin

  Everything stopped. The police officer on the other side of the door beat on it once more, making the pictures on the wall beside the door shake.

  Red looked at me with wide eyes. A mixture of fear and relief filled them.

  “Shit,” I hissed as I grabbed handfuls of hair.

  I didn’t know what to do. If she didn’t open the door, they’d know something was up, but if she did open the door, there was a chance I’d be arrested on the spot. Who knew? Maybe someone heard us arguing or maybe heard her scream. Perhaps the walls of her apartment were paper thin and a neighbor had called the police.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked.

  It was a weird question for her to ask—like she was on my side and not my hostage.

  Reaching up, I hooked the chain on the door so she couldn’t open it all the way.

  “Open the door as far as you can with the chain on and tell them you’re okay. Don’t do anything stupid or I swear to God…”

  “I got it,” she hissed back at me.

  Adjusting her top, she cracked the door, hiding most of her body behind it. The gold chain that was keeping the door from opening completely pulled tightly.

  I watched as realization filled her expression. “Ethan? What the hell are you doing back already, and why are you dressed like a cop?”

  Instantly, the stress in my shoulders lessened. It wasn’t a cop, just someone pretending to be a cop.

  She plastered on a big fake smile and patted at her hair like she was aware she wasn’t perfectly made over. I preferred her that way. Hair down and tangled, no pretty skirts or pantsuits, just her in her comfortable clothes as if she were sitting around on a lazy Sunday.

  “You said you wanted me to spice things up. I thought I’d surprise you,” said the guy on the other side of the door.

  I had to control my laughter. So she wasn’t sexually satisfied. That explained her pink pleasure box hidden in her closet.

  “Can I come in? I missed you so much, Emily,” he said, and her body tensed.