The Sinner

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

SIN

IT’S A LITTLE after nine in the morning when I pull into the driveway. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I call my father’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Son.”

“Make the call,” I say, looking over the house that sits in front of me.

He sighs. “It’s for the best, East—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I interrupt him.

He lets out a deep breath, getting irritated with my attitude but I don’t care. After what Ryat told me, I need to make some changes. And they need to be made as soon as possible.

“I’ll make the call. But, son…”

Click.

I hang up, get out of the car, and enter the house. I find her in the kitchen standing at the island. The first thing I notice is the bag packed at her feet. It can’t have more than a few items of clothes and her toothbrush. It’s all we’ve brought over so far. I place my hands in the pockets of my jeans and stare at her.

“I’m leaving,” Elli announces, lifting her chin.

I sidestep to make sure I’m not blocking the exit.

Her shoulders fall but she quickly recovers. My little demon wants to be chased. Held captive. She just thought she belonged to me before, but things are getting ready to change. And not in her favor.

Huffing, she reaches down and grabs her bag, and I wait until she passes me before I turn and speak. “You won’t get far.”

She comes to a stop, slowly turning back to face me, her ice-blue eyes narrowing at my statement. “Excuse me?”

I step into her and reach up, pushing some loose strands of bleach-blond hair behind her ear. “Go ahead, run away if that makes you feel better about yourself. But you won’t get far.”

“Sin.” She sighs, getting annoyed. “What you did last night was unacceptable. You almost killed—”

I laugh, cutting her off. Almost? She shoves my chest.

“You didn’t care last time I killed a man for you. Or the time before that.” I’m up to three dead men for her. And I’ll kill many more if need be.

Her eyes drop to the floor, and I reach out, cupping her face while running my thumb over her bottom lip. “Let that be a lesson, Elli. If a man touches you, it’ll be the last thing he does.” I push my thumb between her lips. The action forcing her head back to meet my stare.

Wrapping her plump lips around it, she creates suction as I slowly pull it out. “Was that my punishment?” she whispers, remembering what I did to her last night.

“What?” I frown.

“Cutting my tongue,” she explains.

I smile at her. “No, little demon. That was for fun.”

She whimpers, and I love the way her breathing picks up at the thought that making her bleed was meant to be fun. She can try to tell me she didn’t enjoy it, but we both know that would be a lie.

“I have something much more enjoyable in mind for your punishment.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she asks, “Enjoyable for you or for me?”

“That’s for you to find out.”

ELLINGTON

MY HEART IS hammering in my chest. A shiver running down my spine. I had every intention of walking out that door. Telling him to fuck off.

Did I, though? If so, then why did I wait for him to return home to make the threat of leaving? I wanted him to stop me. Grab my hair, drag me back to bed, and force me to stay. I know what I did was wrong. I need to be punished. He needs to remind me that he still wants me. Needs me. It’s the fucked-up part of me that wants to be owned. I don’t know who I am without him.

“Hand me your bag,” he orders.

Reaching down, I pick it up and hand it to him. He places it on the island and unzips it. Looking inside, he must be satisfied because he zips it up and grabs my hand. He pulls me out of the kitchen, down a hallway, and into what I’m going to make the library. I can’t wait to fill it full of books. One full wall is nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the woods out back.

He pushes on the far wall and a door opens that I didn’t even realize was there. Flipping on a light, we walk down a set of stairs and into an open room.

A coldness runs over me, making me shiver at what I see. It’s a basement. I’ve been in one before. David had one at his house. He tied me up and left me there one night. But that was the first night that Sin fucked me. Made me his.

Letting go of my hand, he commands, “Strip down.” Then he throws the bag on a countertop over in the corner.

Slowly, I pull the T-shirt I was wearing—it’s his—up and over my head. Then push the shorts down my legs, along with my underwear. I feel shy all of a sudden. Embarrassed as my wide eyes look over the ropes, chains, and belts hanging on the far wall. Each one different than the other. There are various colors and sizes.

He turns around and I see my white Dior heels in his hand that were in my bag. Coming up to me, he kneels. “Place your hands on my back to steady yourself.”

I do as he says and lift my right foot off the cold concrete floor. He slides it on, followed by the other. He stands to his full height, and I smile nervously up at him. “My Prince Charming.”

His face is blank, his eyes void of any emotion. It makes my pulse race. He grabs my hand once again and pulls me to the center of the room.

There’s a black leather-wrapped post that stands in the middle. One vertical post with a horizonal one that sits right at my hips with my six-inch heels on.

I run my fingers along the soft leather, watching him out of the corner of my eye walk over to the far wall. He grabs some chains, a couple of belts, and then turns, opening a drawer. I can’t see what he gets out of it.

When he turns to walk back to me, my eyes snap to stare at the silver ring that hangs from the top of the vertical post that is right in front of me. My breathing picks up.

He crouches down again, behind me this time. The chain wraps around my right ankle, the coldness of it making me shiver. He picks up a short double-ended metal hook. One is connected to the floor, the free end is latched through two links that are in the chain around my ankle, securing it in place.

Standing, he goes to my other ankle. He grabs it, and pulls it farther apart, almost knocking me off my heels. I grab the post in order to keep myself from falling over as he does the same thing to the left ankle.

Standing behind me, he leans into me, and I feel his jeans rub against my ass and thighs. “Look up,” he commands.

Swallowing, I look up at the black-painted ceiling. He slides something around my throat. I feel the leather wrap around and hear him fasten it at the nape of my neck.

I try to lower my head but can’t. My hands shoot to whatever it is he put around my neck, my heart hammering in my chest. “Sin—”

“It’s a posture collar,” he interrupts me before I can ask what it is.

My hands begin to sweat, and I try to shift on my heels, but they’re tied too far apart, secured too tightly. My breathing accelerates and my pussy clenches. He’s going to make me pay. I hate that I’m excited. That I want him to mark me. As if the brand on my inner thigh will fade away.

He walks around in front of me, and I look at him over the vertical post. My heels putting my chin level with the top. He’s still got four, maybe five inches over me. Pulling another one of those double-sided metal hooks out of his pocket, I lower my eyes to watch him connect one side to the ring that hangs from the top of the post. Then he grabs my neck, pushing my head back painfully and I hear it click again.

Letting go of me, I try to pull away, but he secured the collar to the post. “Easton?” My voice shakes. My hands come up and grab at the metal hook. I try to unhook it, but he slaps my hands away.

He takes a longer chain and holds my hands in one hand while the other lays the chain across my wrists, then he brings both ends back over the center and pulls on them, securing my wrists together with one chain. He yanks on it, fastening it down to the horizontal bar that runs across my hips but on the inside of it. I’m immobile. Totally at his mercy. My pussy is wet, but my body is shaking, and I want to cry happy tears that he didn’t let me leave. That he’s going to fight for me. Force me to stay.

He stands back, his eyes running over me, and smiles.

“Please,” I whimper, trying to yank myself free, knowing I’m not going anywhere.

Stepping back into me, he tilts his head to the side. He reaches out and runs his knuckles down the side of my face. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch him touch you? Know that he kissed you …was going to fuck you.”

“Sin,” I lick my lips, needing to explain. “I was mad…”

“Mad?” he repeats the word, slowly nodding his head. His eyes boring into mine. “So every time you get mad , I have to expect you to throw yourself at any random guy.”

My teeth clench and my tied hands fist. “You’re cheating on me. I was just doing what I saw you do.”

“I’ve never cheated on you,” he argues.

I give a rough laugh. “Quit fucking lying to me. I saw you.”

He gives me a smile and leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead. I try to pull away from his touch but there’s nowhere for me to go. “I hate you,” I growl, yanking on my restraints, knowing it’s a lie. I don’t hate him. I love him. Even knowing that he fucked Amelia, I still want to be with him. “I fucking hate you.” I begin to cry, the bitter words hard to swallow.

“No, you don’t. Not yet anyway,” he says calmly.

“Sin,” I growl, hating that he knows me so well.

He reaches out, gripping my face, squeezing my cheeks tightly. “Just remember, little demon, that I love you. Because what I’m about to do to you has nothing to do with love.”

His hand drops from my face and I spit on him. It’s the only thing I can do at this point. It lands on his cheek and chin. I expect him to slap me, or to grab my face again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his back to me.