A Torment of Sin

by Charlotte E Hart

  Maddening.

  I thought it would be gone now, lessened. It’s not. It’s increasing, causing this girl turning in front of me to become more irrelevant by the second. She’s in black. Pretty in her own way. She should work for me.

  She isn’t.

  Smoke filters out of my mouth, blowing into the five foot between us. More turning, more sultry, pouted lips and fingers crooking me to her. I’m not going anywhere near her. She’s pitiable in comparison to the thing I’ve already been inside, lacking.

  I sigh and lounge back into the plush chair, elbows resting out to the side of me as the inadequate show carries on for my benefit. Another draw on the cigarette and I flick it toward the girl, not caring if it lands on her or the floor. She tries for sexy again, running it under her platform heel to stub it out and waving her ass at me.

  My eyes close, head tipping back. She's nothing like Hannah. No bite or sense of dismal. No sinister either. I want my little sinister here with me, want her turning and twirling for me. My dick hardens at the thought of her, a smile grazing my mouth. Tight and firm as she held on to me, nails and muscles straining and clawing.

  My neck stretches at the memory, the slices in it pulled taut because of the move. I rub them back on the chair, letting the stabs of pain reverberate through me more than the thought of her already is doing.

  Commotion occurs somewhere in the room, screams and giggles as if something is amusing. Nothing is. Only the thought of Hannah and her ominous outlook, her hollow cheeks. The depressive gloom that she seems to hold onto her skin no matter her laughing. Beautiful. Disturbing in some ways. Connected, though – stupidly. I felt that when I was inside her. No drugs then for me. Just me and my thoughts about needing her. A fucking locked door?

  Fuck that.

  I chuckle and reach into my pocket, pulling out the bottle and tipping it towards my mouth for the second time tonight. Pills spill into me, several of them. My mind doesn’t care anymore what mix they are, or how many. I’ve done the deed now, fucked and enjoyed it. I’ll fall now, willingly. The world and my obligations are far from here for a few days. They’re memories, things that can, for now, disperse and filter passed me without duty involved.

  A hand grasps my chin, tugging at it sharply. “I thought you came to watch.”

  My eyes open slowly, focus finding Hannah there in front of me. She lets go of my chin and shakes her head, inching her body away from me and swaying her hips to the music. Her arms reach upwards, body undulating and rolling to the sounds. The woman that was there disappears, and all that’s left in my vision is her and the black straps still wrapped around her. Tight straps. Straps that make me think about lifting them and tugging her anywhere I want her.

  I chuckle lowly and keep watching as she moves, captivated with her lithe frame absorbed in the deep bass rumbling through her. Hips swaying. Ass pushing back at me occasionally before she takes herself away again and dances some more.

  My sense of time evaporates as it goes on, a tunnel forming around her to anchor me to this moment and nothing more. I smile again and let it consume me, watching as the lights bounce off metal buckles and latches. Dark corners pull out around her, her body the focused centre point to laze in.

  “Fucked,” mutters out of me, a laugh following it.

  She’s in my face suddenly, her hands resting on the side of the chair around me and her legs climbing into my lap. “Not yet,” she whispers. Not yet what?

  I blink and refocus at her up close, eyes scanning her lips as her tongue rolls around them. “Are you just watching or fucking again?” Her weight flattens on my dick, body undulating on mine. She grinds hard, rubbing her pussy up on me and working it over the hard ridge of me. “I’d like to fuck again,” she says, reaching her arms upwards. “Only you, though,” she says. “I liked you fucking me. Not them.”

  Such pretty eyes. Killer eyes.

  I chuckle again, as my fingers reach for her face. They crawl slowly across her cheek to bring her closer to me, and then I look at those lips again. They were good around me. Deep throat. “Suck it first.” Her smile broadens, body leaning back so she can push herself on me.

  “No.”

  I frown and drag her back to me, hand hard on the back of her neck. “Do you need slapping into it again?” She tries to pull away from the hold I have on her, grating her neck under my fingers. “You’ve come to find me Hannah. Do as I ask.”

  She stills in my hold, eyes looking deep into mine. Good. I let her, letting the energy and connection build this time rather than avoid it. She wants me, she can have me, but it’s on my terms. “Suck it,” I mutter, letting go of her neck and pushing her away. “On your knees. Here in front of all these people.”

  Still, she gazes at me. Minutes or hours pass by. I’m happy for them to rumble along around us, as I return her stare. Times has gone to me. There’s just a tunnel and her in the middle of it. No concerns. No pressure or limits anymore. I sigh and smile, enjoying the sense of nothing other than her, and watch her slowly lower herself from me to the floor.

  No preamble. No flirting other than what we’re already in.

  I unbuckle my belt and draw myself out, waving her forward onto it, and then tip my head away up to the ceiling again. No need to watch. I can feel her, sense her in my mind. I grunt as the warmth spreads over me, hips bucking under her assault. Fast and harsh, deep and near fucking painful. Another grunt as she swirls her tongue and sucks harder, building me quickly.

  I stare at the colours skipping around in my vision, searching them for pockets of black, and groan repeatedly as she keeps sucking. So deep. Too deep.

  Wrong fucking hole.

  My hand reaches down to the high ponytail, gripping it tightly to pull her up to me. She climbs as quickly as I pull, her pussy back to resting on my dick before I manage to look at her. Fingers start pumping me. Tight grip, her thumb rolling over the head of me. “Fuck me,” I mutter, still gazing upwards. “Make me come”

  The moment she slides that tight pussy down on me I look back at her. Locked on and ravenous for more of her. Easy this time. Slow. We’re going to let these colours spin and this world around us tilt as much as it wants. My hands rest on her hips, fingers looping into the straps made for directing her, and let her move on me. She’s so tight, as she rocks on me and builds her own rhythm. Lithe legs keeping her going, strong core moving her away from me and back towards me.

  I gaze, awed by her and her ability to do this to me. Colours swirl around her head, bright and vivid against the backdrop of the dark shadows we’re in. Mouth open, moans and groans coming quietly in the noise. Her hands chase over her breasts, searching for her nipples so she can pull them taut and heighten her time on me. The top straps get pushed out of the way, shoved as if annoying her, and then she’s top half bare and riding me like the minx she is.

  A grunt falls from my mouth, as everything starts to blur and change. I don’t need to do a goddamned thing to make her do what I want – she’s doing it anyway, and I watch intently, letting the sensations consume me and bring me closer. My mouth latches onto her nipple as she gets in close and puts her hands in my hair, tugging me to it.

  Everything’s so close, so near. I can feel her inside me, climbing in and burrowing, as if finding a home and living in it. Need. Chaotic yet smooth. New yet timeless somehow. The nipple rolls around my tongue, my teeth nipping and then biting it hard. Sweet, musky and heady.

  Another grunt and I groan, letting the beginning of her shuddering orgasm build me higher. My hands pull her in tighter, needing that clit on me so she can feel it deeply, purposefully. She grinds. Once, twice, three times and quivers to a still with a moan.

  That’s not enough for me in this mood.

  “Again,” I mutter, bringing her ear to my mouth. My lips crawl along her jaw, inching through kisses and light bites until they reach her lips and my fingers reach the spot that’s just exploded for her. “You fuck until you can’t fuck anymore.” I push on the
sensitive area, winding it around harshly in circles until she starts moving again, and then take it lower to see how wide she can get. “Only you. I’ll only fuck you. Make the most of it.” She gasps slightly and looks downwards, watching as I keep pushing two fingers inside her alongside my dick.

  “Again, Hannah. More.”

  She does more.

  And I keep letting the night blur and the colours spin, uncaring for anything outside of that until I’ve fucked enough to see sense somehow.

  ~

  People move in my vison, as my fingers run through her hair. She mewls quietly on my chest, her small body as still as a mouse as she sleeps. I blink and refocus on the paddling scene in front of me, wondering what happens after this fantasy is done. A plane ride home. A few hours in the cabin to remember and appreciate a woman who gave me some time out of normality, and then nothing again. She’ll go back to her apartment, my apartment, and then when her lease is run she’ll leave the building.

  Leave.

  I glower at the thought, part annoyed with the responsibility of my life, and glance at the chain linking us that she weaved onto my wrist in the middle of fucking. I’d rather stay here at the moment. With her. We’d relax in it all and forget the outside world exists, but it’s too easy to fall here. Pleasure seeking is always irresponsible. I know that only too well. But now I’m stuck in the middle of a rift I allowed to happen and enjoying the feel of her all over me without sense. I can’t allow that. I’ve got nothing to offer.

  A dark shadow moves behind the people I’m gazing through, ripped muscles weaving though the outlying area. Malachi. I watch him carefully, training my focus on whatever intent he might have now. He’s probably been here the whole time, looking on as I’ve given in to my desires. I must be amusing for him. A conquest won. A battle overcome.

  He stalks the edges of the room to get to me, but rather than the laughter I expected he deigns to deliver some sort of fucking pity in his gaze, as he comes to my side.

  “Good?” he asks.

  I don’t answer that. I’m not interested in his pity, and I’m not having him think she’s any more relevant to me than she is. I stand and lift her with me, moving into him to hand her over. That’s the only way this stays separate enough for either of us to deal with. She can spend some time with him, remember that this isn’t something other than what it is.

  He frowns at me, as he takes her, clearly stunned by the offer. Good. Maybe he’ll look after her if I’ve shown no interest rather than torment her because of me. It’s only his devious sense of need to beat me that makes him harsh with her. There’s no need for that now. I fucked her. Again. Repeatedly.

  He’s won.

  “Make sure she enjoys it,” I mutter at him. “And stop if she says no.”

  The thin, gold chain slips from my wrist and my body folds into the crowds, weaving forward without looking back no matter how much I might want to. It’s time for me to hunt something new to watch while she enjoys herself with him. Forget her and move onto something else if that’s what I’m doing now. He’s a good fuck from what I’ve heard, and he certainly knows all about a woman’s body. Maybe she’ll find a new sensation with him. Learn more about herself.

  My eyes scan each room as I pass it by, and I tip the bottle of pills into my mouth again and swallow. They’re like fucking razorblades going down my throat, which only proves how fucking pissed I’m becoming at the thought of her having anything else inside her but me.

  No claim to stake, though.

  None.

  Chapter 9

  Hannah

  “I don’t know what to do with you,” a voice says, distantly.

  I smile in the dream and soothe my head on the pillow. Soft and fluffy. There’s a rainbow high above me, like a wave of colour balanced high above the bed. It distorts and changes, hues merging into one another, as I snuggle in deeper. It’s nice here. Warm and comforting. “Why do you mean something to him?”

  Something runs gently against my face, more soothed thoughts coming because of the way it moves on my skin. Cheek. Brow. Hairline. I mumble to myself, incoherent words washing from my lips like a plea for more. I don’t know who I’m supposed to mean something to, but I’ll take it if I do. I’ll lie in that embrace and think happy thoughts, enjoy them because here and now feels like a cocoon I’m resting in, swaddled.

  The touch moves lower, the feeling grazing my jaw, neck, chest. So soft, like a whisper of touch. Feathers. A giggle rumbles through me at the sensation, legs stretching and arms reaching upwards. “Wake up, Mrs Tanner.” No, not this time. Just like ‘no’ last time. I don’t do as I’m told anymore, and I don’t want to wake up from this either.

  This is heavenly and divine.

  Delightful even.

  I smile and keep my eyes closed, ignoring that name he’s using. I’m not arguing while this is carrying on. This is too dreamy for arguments and heated words. “I don’t like you very much.”

  He doesn’t?

  I giggle again and listen to him huff, the sensation on my skin disappearing at the same time. The loss makes me roll onto my side and tuck my hands under my cheek, eyes opening slowly to look at him. He’s leant back away from me, his arms splayed out on the side of a chair, and all his width on show. A light dusting of dark hair trails his stomach, muscles taut under it, as he breathes even breaths and looks at me.

  “Where’s the feather, Malachi?”

  “What feather?”

  “The feather on my skin?”

  He stares, little to no reaction to the question but eventually huffs again regardless of the slight smile gracing his face. “Believe it or not, Mrs Tanner, my hands are capable of more than pain.”

  Oh.

  I stretch again, letting my legs revel in the luxurious fabric draping my skin. Silk maybe. Or satin. And then I realise all the leather strapping has gone from me. I’m naked again, but for my panties. I glance around slowly, taking in another bedroom. Larger than the one I was in with Gray. More opulent if that’s possible. Malachi’s bedroom presumably. Suits him.

  “I still don’t like that name being used. I’m no longer her,” I murmur, watching him watch me.

  His lips twitch, as if the very fact that I don’t is what makes him use it all the more. “I know. I’m using it because you don’t. It’ll make you not like me. Which you shouldn’t.”

  “I shouldn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Vein in faces, Mrs Tanner.”

  I laugh at that, not caring if I should like him or not, and I roll to sitting. What does it matter here anyway? There are no veins prominent in his face now, and everything’s barely coherent regardless of if they’re there or not, anyway. It mostly feels like I’m part lucid rather than living any usual reality. Perhaps I’m not. That’s the reason for this place after all.

  I shift to the side of the bed, taking the sheet with me and dropping my feet to the floor so I’m in front of him. Maybe I’ll sleep with him now, enjoy a new type of torment. That’s why I’m allowed to stay, isn’t it?

  Malachi gets what Malachi wants.

  I smile and lean towards him, my gaze taking in his quiet form in front of me. Nothing like Gray. Gray. I frown and move back a few inches, looking at my body and remembering something downstairs. Maybe not. I don’t know.

  “Problem, Mrs Tanner?” No. I don’t think so.

  I look back at him and mull him over in my confusion, comparing them both. He’s more relaxed than Gray, as he casually sits there wondering what to do with me. I don’t know why he’s wondering about anything. We’ll just have some pills like all the rest of this has been, live these moments and enjoy, just like I did with Gray. When was that? I was … I look at the door, wondering how I got in here, and my thighs scrunch together as I try to think. Memories of his face in front of me start bedding into my thoughts, his hands on my skin and his cock buried deep inside me. Strong. Harsh. Lips, too. Possessive lips. They ate me, mou
lded themselves around me and devoured, as I sat on his lap and rode him.

  “Again, Hannah.”

  My hand goes to my neck, searching for bite marks. He bit me, marked me and ripped into my neck as his come pulsed inside me. The thought makes me frown again and run a finger over the ridge of teeth marks. I don’t belong to anyone while I’m here, don’t belong to anyone full stop. I am alone. Singular. And Gray isn’t here now. Malachi is. And he’s being nice to me, soft and gentle.

  I stare at him, unsure about him. It’s an interesting development from the last time when he shackled me to a wall and beat me with something. Or made me perch on top of the roof and spin. Malachi says. Still, my fingers keep rubbing, feeling something deeper inside than the thought of Malachi anywhere near me.

  “What did your husband do before he died to make you so annoyed with continuing to use his name?” My hackles rise, body going rigid, and I glare at the features delving into areas I’m not willing to discuss.

  “I’m not talking about that,” I snap, turning away from him. “Where’s Gray?”

  “Playing with someone other than you.”

  A wash of anger surges through me that I have no right to feel, followed by a wave of despair crashing. “He wouldn’t.”

  I stay rigid, eyes staring through Malachi’s face and imagining Gray’s foreboding outlook laughing at me. No. He wouldn’t. Playing with someone? He might watch, but Gray doesn’t touch anyone. Only me. He only touches me. He said that. Told me.

  When?

  I stand and walk around the chair Malachi’s in, fury and desolation mingling to cause aches of unknown magnitude. Pain. It hurts inside. It hurts like it did with Rick.

  I crumple to the floor, the black sheet abandoned, and I scratch at the carpet. No. Only me. He said only me. He held me and whispered words, told me it was only me, would only be me if I let him use me and I did as I was told. But now I’m here with Malachi. No Gray. No whispered words or harsh hands. Feathers instead. Soft, soft feathers.