Sloth (Sinful Secrets #1) (31 page)

The jugular is not a mystery when you’ve dealt with it as much as I have. I locate hers with a gentle touch. She doesn’t stir. It takes a moment to position the needle, and when I’ve done that, I plunge quickly in.

Nessa’s breath hitches, and for a horrifying moment I think she’s going to wake up just to die.

But she doesn’t. The cocktail includes Midazolam, a sedative. Also, Dilaudid. So much of both drugs, the truth is, Nessa doesn’t have a chance. And still, I stay. I wrap a copper curl around my finger and, with my arms still propped on her bed, I sink down to my knees. Her breaths go shallow. Shallow.
Quiet
.

When I fear the sound of my own heart will drive me mad, I get up and go.

“TAKE THOSE CLOTHES OFF—EVERYTHING
... is what Arethea said. And then you’ve gotta put them in this bin.” She points at the big, yellow garbage can, shoved into the corner of the bathroom. I can see her arm jut out, even though my eyes are focused on the floor. “You know the drill,” she adds softly.

My gaze breaks away from the tile and throws itself at Whitney’s face. In another life—one I lived just days ago—this girl’s wide smile and mismatched green and blue eyes heralded homestyle comforts. Whitney Marsh: knitter of beanies and floppy socks. Whitney Marsh: Pinterest-a-holic. This girl can make a turkey out of an Oreo, a Hershey’s Kiss, and candy corn. When life gives Whitney lemons, she makes lemonade in every color of the rainbow, sweetens it with Stevia, and donates the proceeds to childhood cancer. In a few more years, Whitney Marsh is going to help autistic children learn to talk through special iPad apps. She’s Methodist. A little Marxist, which she won’t reveal until she’s had a few stiff drinks. Whitney was a virgin until my brother.

And so it’s strange that she’s my prison warden now.

Her mismatched eyes reach out to mine, so warm the heat of them threatens the ice I’m using as a shield. I shift my eyes away. They sink like anchors to the floor.

I shrug my shoulders, grateful that the simple motion sends my jacket falling to the blue tile.

“Jacket,” she says in a quiet, tired voice. I’m not looking, but I sense her pick it up and put it in the bin.

I bend to remove my shoes, then change my mind and straighten slowly back up.

“Do you need some help?” I hear the fabric of her clothes swish as she steps toward me.

I turn away from her. I bend again, reach for my shoes, and end up on my ass. The cold of the tile bleeds through the fabric of my pants. I tug the shoes off, then the socks.

I hear the soles of her Chucks
mnnchh
against the floor behind me. I hear her scoop my shoes up. The bag inside the bin crinkles as she deposits them inside. Unsanitary: everything on me.

“I’m going to step around you, Kellan. Turn the shower on. Just do the same thing with your pants. I’ll get them off the floor.”

I clutch my head.

“I can help you up if you want. Do you want me to?” Motherfuck, she’s right behind me.

“No,” I growl.

I clench my jaw. I can’t believe she’s even here with me—but that’s Whitney. Compulsively dependable. Like a sister... that my brother fucks.

FUCK
ED
.

“Go away,” I snap.

I hear her retreat over by the door. I don’t feel any guilt, although I know I should.

I get to my feet without her help and drop my running pants. I hope to fuck she isn’t looking. That’s just... weird.

I look over at the shower stall. The door is open, and now that the water’s been running for a minute, a familiar, acrid scent leaks across the small bathroom, wafting to the low ceiling in bluish tufts of steam.

My knees feel weak as I try to figure out where she is now, within the room. I can feel her eyes on me. I hear her soft sniff.

“Go on, Kellan. You can get in. I’m not looking.”

Stepping into the shower is a hard thing for me. I’m too tired to discern why, but my chest aches as I do it. The water is lukewarm, like always. Might as well be freezing. I shiver and step under the chemical water.

I don’t move, just let it roll over me. They should really make this water warmer. I deserve warm water, I think numbly.

I sense Whitney move in front of the rippled glass door.

“Kellan?” she calls.

What the hell is wrong with her?

“I’m out here, but I can’t see you. I’m sorry to corner you like this, but I’m going to talk. You need to listen.”

I snort, pulling steam into my nose. The chemicals in the water burn into my sinuses like cocaine.

“I need you to hear me. Okay, Kellan?”

I shut my eyes.

“You made a bad choice, K. I get you lost your cool... but you might have ruined this whole thing in doing that. Have you thought about what that
means
? Is that what you even
want
? To force yourself into a corner?” Her voice echoes through the tiny room. “Is that what you want?” Her voice is breathy quiet; shrill. Because she’s on the verge of tears. “I want to know. Is that what you want, Kellan? To just... give up?”

I look down at myself. I hate everything about my life right now—including her. So I tell her, “Go the fuck away. And Whitney? Don’t come back.”

I want a dog... but I don’t have one. I don’t think I... pet him on the head. He’s warm. Soft hair.

“Roll over.”

I’m supposed to tell him that, I thought?

Mmm.

I roll over, mashing my breasts into the mattress and sinking back down into sleep.

I crack open my eyes because I’m being tickled. My arms...

I try to move them and I find I can’t.

Fear slices through my grumpiness. I try again to move, and as my eyes blink, I spot Kellan. He’s lording over me. It’s dark. I’m on my back now, and Kellan—

“Ahh.”

I look down and find his head is pushed against my entrance.

“Oh God.” My voice is low and hoarse with sleep.

He pushes in a little, making me grunt.

“I can’t move,” I whimper. I’m so sleepy.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice is low—a nighttime voice.

He’s shadowed by the moonlight spilling through the windows. His thick shaft pushes in a fraction more, and I inhale. Now that I’m waking up a little more, I can smell him: sweat and male. I can see his face: so taught and solemn. I wonder how his outing went. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

I drop my legs open a little wider, and his hand closes around my hip. He rocks gently against me until my body welcomes more of him.

“You’re so damn tight.” His hand trails up my arm. “You’re gonna take in all of me—deep into your pussy, then your throat.”

He strokes my belly gently, sending chills over my skin; making my inner muscles clench around his hard length.

“I need to be inside you... have to be.” His eyes on mine are soulful and intense, as if it really is a
need
, and not a want.

He thrusts once, hard and deep, and he’s in up to the hilt. I’ve got every inch of him inside me, forcing me open, rearranging me with his invasion. He starts to rock his hips, and I can feel the bulb of his head way deep inside me, teasing the same nerves that alight when his finger’s in my backside.

“You feel so good,” he rasps. His free hand crawls slowly down my ribs. “So fucking good, that pussy, Cleo...” He rocks into me, finding a rhythm that is steady and slow, with deep, almost punishing thrusts and slick pulls as he rocks away from me... then plunges deliciously back in.

His gaze on my face never falters. His fingers twist my nipple as he pumps his big cock in and out of me.

I arch against him. My clit throbs.

“You feel so good,” I whisper. “The way you stretch me...” This pleasure combined with the grogginess from sleeping. I sigh, thrusting my hips toward him.

“You like being stuffed with my cock.”

“Not gonna lie...” I try to reach out for his shoulder, but my hands are tied. Oh... right. I smile up at him. “I love your big cock.”

“My little slut...”

I rock myself against him and I sigh, relaxing my shoulders despite the tightness of the bind around my wrists. Kellan strokes a thumb over my clit. My toes curl.

And then he pulls out of me.

My eyes widen. “What?”

He smiles down at me as I’m... lifted off the bed? I’m instantly confused, because Kellan is still right in front of me. If he’s not lifting me...

He rises on his knees and smiles grimly.

My eyes dart down my torso.

“Holy fuck.”

I’m strung up like an animal after a hunt. I’m in some kind of harness...

Straps are holding me upright, pulling me slowly upward. I glance up, observing with my eyes what my body already senses: I’m hanging from a rope that disappears into a dark hole in the ceiling.

“Oh my God, Kellan.” How the fuck did I not notice this?

The harness is wrapped around my waist, between my legs, over my shoulders. My arms must be bound to the rope I’m hanging from; they’re still stretched above my head. I didn’t notice it before but—

“Ahhh.” The little moan pops out my lips.

As my weight is lifted fully off the bed and balanced by the harness, my legs sway a little, and I notice something... in my—

“Oh God.”

In my ass!

I squirm in my restraints, feeling panicked as I hang there, swaying above the bed like a trapeze artist with a—

“Kellan, what did you...”

I clench around whatever’s lodged in me. It starts to vibrate. For a moment, I see stars. Then I’m able to focus, to look down at the bed. Just a few feet below me, Kellan is sitting up on his knees, grinning wickedly as he holds a small remote. He rises a little higher on his knees, so his face is level with my pussy.

I try to stretch my legs, to brush the balls of my feet against the bedding. To get some control. He’s got me just high enough that I can’t really stand. I bend my knees, lifting my legs and feet up and tucking them behind my butt. My ass throbs. I have to swallow back a moan. The harness around my crotch pulls a little, but it’s not unpleasant pressure. I look down again. The rope that makes the harness looks like it’s coated with a softer fabric.

“What do you think of your predicament?” he murmurs. He wraps his hand around my calf and strokes. “Does it feel good, the surprise I left you?”

The pressure in my ass might be delicious. I can’t tell. I’ve started shaking. I tug air into my lungs. “W-what is this thing? I thought we were having sex?”

“Oh yes. I’m going to fuck you, Cleo.”

“I don’t...” I roll my hips into the air and close my eyes, my body swaying gently from the ceiling. My ass is so full. God, it’s hard to think. “I don’t get it,” I cry.

He runs his palms over my thighs, stilling my swaying body. “Let me show you.”

He takes out a longer, silver remote and I am lifted slightly higher. My pussy clenches as the nerves inside me sizzle from the pressure in my ass.

“You can almost touch the bed,” he says, looking down at my feet. Dangling as they are, just my toes brush the mattress. “But you can’t. What do you think the purpose of this is, Cleo?”

He presses a button on the black remote, and what’s inside my backside thumps against my tender walls.

I moan.

“Let me show you.”