A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  *******

  A Torment Of Sin

  Truth and Lies ~ Book 2

  Copyright ©2020 by Charlotte E Hart

  Cover Design by MAD

  Formatting by MAD

  All rights reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved alone, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of those trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

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  Chapter 1

  Hannah

  S oft. Surprisingly.

  My eyes close under the feel of his lips, part of me trying to appreciate them. They’re not like Gray’s. They’re cold in comparison. Not that I felt Gray’s on my mouth, but his were warm on my forehead, as if they held more meaning than Malachi’s.

  A long sigh breathes out of me into Malachi’s mouth and the tension in my arms from the buckles relaxes. I’m hanging. Held up as if on offer.

  Curious.

  The lips on mine start applying more pressure, punishing me for more. They’re starting to feel greedy, needy. I chuckle in the back of my throat, amused that someone like Malachi would be needy of anything, and I break the kiss to look at the man who had veins on his face a while ago. No veins anymore. Just handsome. In a slightly diabolical way given his sneer.

  My fingers flex as I look at his sharply cut jaw, the chain grating under the feel of soft leather strapped tightly. “Why this?” I ask.

  His head quirks, as if the question’s alien to him. It isn’t to me. Why string me up here? The screaming for Gray I understood. I could see the reason to taunt him into this to some degree when Malachi asked me to, but this strange contraption and the buckles seem odd.

  “Because it hurts, Mrs Tanner.”

  My face screws up, anger replacing the relaxed grace I was in, and I turn my face away from him. Not that name. “I’m not her.”

  Not anymore.

  And hurt? Hurt is my apartment and the thought of Rick and him fucking the world. I’m not doing hurt anymore. The slap didn’t hurt. The shove to the floor didn’t hurt. Being dragged here harshly didn’t hurt either. They felt like something. Anything. Painful maybe, but nothing compared to what happens in my head when I remember.

  My gaze falls back to Gray, shoulders rolling to try and lesson the ache forming in my heart. He stares blandly, no emotion on show. He’s so still again. Quiet in this room and shadowed in a dark corner. Maybe he’s waiting for Malachi to begin whatever this will be. Or maybe he’s leaving. Backwards steps. He took those a moment ago. He let go of the woman who should have had cat ears and backed off, as if ready to walk away from me again.

  “Leave,” murmurs out of me. “Or stay. Make up your mind, Gray.”

  He frowns and continues staring at me, his eyes looking over my exposed skin. It must look pretty to him. Stretched out. On display. Taut. If this is what he likes. Is it? I assume so given his friendship with Malachi. Interesting friendship. One of my fingers starts tapping the wood, my mind trying to fathom what or who they are to each other. One in society, running his empire from his tower and barely leaving it, and the other here – hidden from the world and creating his own. Two peas in a pod. Maybe they’re fucking.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  No, Gray said he wasn’t gay.

  I smile, falling into a rhythm and visualising that thought. A song.

  I could make up my own song.

  I twist my neck to look at Malachi as he approaches me slowly. He’s got something in his hands. Metal. Small. And a leather strap dangling from his fingers. I don’t know what they’re for. Maybe I should be fearful. I don’t feel fearful. I feel calm. Peaceful. Empty of care. It’s cold in here, though. Barren of heat.

  I shiver from that sensation alone and watch him get closer, somehow more relaxed because of his slow steps. They’re full of menace, though. I can sense that under my calm.

  He is.

  Something lands on my skin, burning and making me twist and turn to get away from it. My eyes go wide, breath puffing from my mouth. Pain. It doesn’t register like it should, though. It sings its own song on me, creating waves of feeling to flow over me.

  “Malachi.”

  Gray’s voice sounds like a warning, a threat. I look at him, as the sway of my body comes to a stop, trying to see him clearly in the low gloom. He isn’t clear. He’s fragmented and distorted, as if it’s not really him anymore. Another bite of pain licks into me somewhere, hip maybe. I groan at it and falter, arms tugging at the chains keeping me held fast.

  A laugh again. Malachi’s laugh. Veins in faces.

  “Stop, Malachi,” Gray mutters.

  “No. She’s not yours, is she?” Another lash onto me, and another, and another until I’m shouting and whimpering about something I don’t understand. “Or is she? Take her if you like.”

  It hurts, all of it, and yet it doesn’t. It warms and batters as well, blends somehow into a yearning deep inside me. I feel like pleading for more, or less. Confusing. Strange. My eyelids lift slowly, body righting itself to wait for more to come. I should be scared, bellowing for escape, pleading for my life.

  “Tell me you like it,” Malachi says. I don’t know that I do. I slowly look at him, eyes casting over his ominous frame in this room full of pain and dust. “Tell him you like it, Mrs Tanner.”

  Him.

  Gray.

  The room sways and morphs, vision drifting from clear to murky, and then something touches my lips. Small. Round. “Swallow.” Yes, swallow.

  I do, licking the pill into my mouth and letting it go down. Down, down, down. Another pill. Another new point in time full of things Mrs Tanner never does. “Do you like it?” Something slithers across my neck. Cold, hard. Metal. Pressure on me. Heavy and weighted against my collarbone. “Tell Gray how much you’d like him to touch you like this.”

  My gaze drifts back to the gloom, vision searching for him. He’s there, backed up against a wall, his body calm against the surface. I would like that. I’d like to feel him closer to me, his eyes on mine and the connection we felt.

  Another blow lands low on my legs, then hip, then so close to the apex of my thighs I yelp and jerk from the sensation. Again, and again, and again. I twist, turn. Try pulling my feet from the floor to crunch myself into a ball. Nothing. I’m held fast, Malachi’s body a post I’m anchored against. And this thing at my throat stays steady. As if stopping me from moving forward, sideways, away.

  “Tell him you like it.”

  I nod weakly under the torment, unsure whether I like it or not. I feel, though. I feel alive and willing, used, perhaps abused, but content to be on show. Another rally of pa
in lands, fingers biting in this time. They crawl and climb higher on my leg, scratching, digging in and causing more pain. I whimper, a long mewl of need or torment burrowing under the surface that drives me insane.

  “Talk, Hannah.” Gray. I search for him again, trying to find clear vision under this storm I’m in. Low words. Moody words. Gruff and indistinct. “Tell me.”

  My head shakes at the continued sound of him. It echoes and swarms through me, the same words repeating over and over again. Tell me. Talk. I can’t talk, though. Can’t think, let alone talk. It all hurts. Everything. And it’s blurred and fuzzy, the world spinning and turing. Hands digging in tighter. The strap moving over me. The thing at my throat edging back and forth slowly. I swallow, letting whatever it is ride the bob on my neck as it moves.

  “Pretty things need help to learn,” Malachi whispers in my ear. “And men need temptation and tease. Use your words for him.”

  I squirm as his hand moves lower, unsure where it’s heading until it lands at the top of my panties. It inches in, making me frown at the feeling. I don’t want that. I want Gray’s hand there. Gray’s fingers.

  The feeling makes me twist, wrenching my head around until the thing at my throat loosens slightly, and I rattle the chains in frustration. I don’t know why I’m frustrated. It’s come from somewhere deep inside. I’m wound tight. Pushed that way and waiting for something to tip me over the edge of a cliff I’ve never been over.

  Tip, tip, tip.

  My hands grip the chains tighter, searching for something to cling to.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

  “You.” The word spills out of my mouth, nothing making any sense other than it. You. Gray. Here. Now. On me. In me.

  A stuttered breath labours out of me, as the metal at my neck takes hold again, my thighs clamping onto each other because of it. I need to ease this ache, find something to subdue it or build more from it. “Tighter,” mutters from me. “Harder.”

  The metal moves, weaving back and forth over me. It rides downwards through my breasts, curving a trail over the soft skin and heaving chest.

  “She begs for you, Gray.”

  The woman’s voice. A pretty lilt in this room of dark and shadows. I look for her, pulled to the lightness of it, but it’s a gruff sound of annoyance that finds me first. “This won’t work. You’re being petty, Malachi.” I squirm as the cold hits my stomach, buckling under its descent and grinding my ass into Malachi’s stiff cock behind me. I’d take it now. I would. Anything to make the feeling dissipate.

  “More,” moans from me.

  A zipper sounds. Too close, though. Not the one I want. I scowl at the sound of it, eyes focused on the figure still leaning on the wall watching me. He’s not moving, though. He’s perfectly still. No reaction. No offer of himself on me.

  That’s not enough for me.

  Chapter 2

  Gray

  Y ou’d think after all this time with him I’d be immune to his teases and taunts, able to disregard them. With her, and her skin, and her low whimpers and moans, I’m not. It makes me glare at the look of her, annoyed with my own flaws and unamused with this line of games.

  Faith moves in my eye-line, crossing the room to reach Malachi and Hannah. She moves slowly, seductively, just as she always does, and reaches for Hannah’s body to drag her fingernails over it. More teasing, more baiting and pushing.

  A growl leaves my lips, irritation and pent up desires fuelling it.

  “One little fuck,” one of them says.

  I don’t know who anymore. I’m too focused on the skin writhing and moving, her legs and torso twitching under the stress he’s putting her under. Soft skin. Beautiful skin. Reddened and warmed, nubile and stretched out for me.

  My eyes close, a calming huff trying to bring me under control. I won't.

  Can’t.

  Another slap from the leather strap sounds out in the room, a moan following it. I grit my teeth and attempt ignoring it. It’s not working. Nothing is now I can see her exposed and waiting for me. And the damn pills are calling me, I can feel them in my inside pocket, rattling against my heart and pulse that’s thundering under them in need. What would it matter? No one would know.

  Only me and these other three.

  “Please … Gray,” stutters from her mouth.

  My back grates on the wall behind me, neck catching some spikes of decaying brick. It tears a line through the skin, heightening the feel of the room, her whimpers, and the need inside me to give in to what I want. Blood and sweat. Smells and slick skin.

  “Still begging, Gray.” Malachi.

  I scowl under the taunt of his words, trying, again, to ignore the sound of his feet walking circles around her. My head shakes slowly, part infuriated with the continued sound of her and part infatuated with it. “What should I do for her first, Gray?”

  Get that damned blade away from her for a start.

  Although, my eyes open at the thought, unable to deny the need to watch it move on her skin again. It travels slowly, tipping inwards on parts of her body that no one should be touching but me, and then moves up her thigh towards her cunt.

  A giggle comes out of Faith, her body passing my view until she’s off to the left of me and undressing. My gaze goes to her, watching carefully as she strips down to her underwear and walks back towards Malachi unabashed and brazen. Long legs flow, each step making the atmosphere tighter to drink in. It hurts me now. Dick ridged.

  Hands and arms taut with my own strain to keep away.

  A long breath pulls into me, eyes now focused like a hawk at everything happening in front of me.

  “Shall I lick her Gray?” Faith says. “Tell me what to do for you.”

  I roll my own tongue around my lips and swallow, imagining the taste of her, as I watch Faith's mouth move. Lick, suck, fuck. My hand goes up to my jaw to rub the tension and ache out of it, fingers chaffing against stubble. “Gray? Tell me.”

  A sudden scream pitches out into the air, Hannah’s body churning and rattling the chains she’s in. I look back to find Malachi laughing and moving to her side again, the strap he was holding now at full length to give him more room around her body.

  “How long do you think she’ll last without coming?” He chuckles again, dark and low murmurings to himself and then Faith. “Don’t you want to make her come first?” I didn’t.

  A snarl forms at the thought, memories of Dillon’s hand inside her before mine pissing me off. “Or shall I do it for you?”

  “Please, Gray. I need you. You.”

  The words from her sound incoherent now, lazed and drawled as if she’s barely here other than sensation. My dick rears again at the thought, mind willing me to fall into lost hedonism so I can play. And then Faith’s on her, her mouth kissing its way up her legs, tickling her gently.

  The snap of the leather on her ass makes her stop and glare at Malachi – eyes all bitch again for a moment - and then carry on with her seductive task. I smile at that, amused at their dynamic if nothing else, and let myself start enjoying the visual without remorse. Two sets of skin to eye fuck.

  Two bodies to watch and imagine.

  “Still feeling gallant, Gray?” A laugh comes out of him, the strap thrown harshly over Hannah’s breasts and ribs. She buckles and mewls, body writhing under Faith's lips as they keep meandering over her skin. “I’m not feeling very gallant.”

  No, nor am I.

  My feet push me off the wall, body moving forward of its own accord to get out of these shadows and into the light. There’s nothing gallant in my head. It’s a turmoil of anything but gallantry. I put my hands in my pockets to force them into containment, head tilting as the next lash lands on Hannah’s pale skin and she buckles once more.

  “Tell me you like it,” I murmur. Mewls sound out again, small whimpers and groans as she tries avoiding Faith's lips getting closer to her cunt. She won’t. Not now I’ve shown enough interest in their sordid little game to tempt me. It’ll go on and on unt
il I give in and fuck her, take her from him and prove him right. “Talk, Hannah. Consent.”

  “Close enough?” Malachi asks, another chuckle.

  No, nowhere near close enough, but I’m not moving anymore unless it’s to take something from him that doesn’t belong to me or she answers me. I sneer and watch her face rather than look back at him, focus bringing her into my mind again. I’m not ignoring it now. Can’t. Don’t fucking want to either. I’m in it with her, listening and watching. Needing. I want answers to questions, though. Validation before this moves forward any further than it already is doing.

  Everything seems so near to me regardless of the distance I’m keeping from her. The sweat trickling over her skin, the desperation of the mewls in my ears, the moans and groans for more, or perhaps less. She’s ten feet away and yet I can almost feel her losing herself under my fingers, feel the bite of her words whispering dirt and grime.

  For the first time here, I’m becoming unable to stop myself getting lost with her.

  But there’s still no answer from her lips.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah

  T he sudden sound of erratic footfalls coming at me makes me focus somehow from my daze. He’s purposeful, as he travels. Loud, as his hands reach for my leg. The buckle on my ankle gets unlatched, the other leg unstrapped just as efficiently. I don’t know why. Maybe he’s trying to be my hero again.

  I laugh at the thought and try shrugging him off me. Why unstrap me? I wasn’t forced here. I let Malachi do it, perhaps hoping for more of the hedonism that makes me forget.

  “Stop,” mutters out of me. He doesn’t. He starts unbuckling my arms and grumbling under his breath about something. “Gray, stop.” My body’s hitched to him harshly, one arm going under my legs to lift me off the ground.

  “Don’t ever try baiting me again, Malachi,” he snarls, as he walks me towards the door.