Owned by a Sinner (Sinners 2)

Closing my eyes, intense dread fills every inch of me.

Kill him if you have to, Kiara. It will be self-defense, and even if it’s not, going to jail is better than being raped and living like this forever.

Stepping out of the elevator, I quickly dart around Devon’s desk, and setting my bag down, I dig a letter opener out of the drawer. I push it into the back of my pants, then slowly walk down the hallway.

Stand up for yourself. Fight if you have to.

With a trembling hand, I open the door. I’m unable to think straight, my breaths exploding over my lips, and my heart is nothing more than a whisper.

I’m terrified to face Finn, who’s grinning triumphantly where he’s leaning against his desk. “Come in and shut the door.”

My legs feel like lead as I step inside and shut the door behind me. My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips. “This has to stop.” My voice sounds weak, my fear trembling in every word.

Finn lets out a sadistic sounding chuckle as he pushes away from the desk, slowly coming toward me.

My fingers flex, the urge to grab hold of the letter opener surging through me.

“This has to stop,” he taunts me, then shaking his head, he says, “It will stop when I say so.” Lifting an arm, he gestures at me. “Time to see what you’re hiding beneath those clothes. Strip.”

“No.” Slowly, I move my hand behind my back and take hold of the handle of the letter opener. I pull the weapon out, then keep still. “You’re done torturing me.”

Finn raises his eyebrows, his smirk growing, then he darts forward. Even though I expected it, a shriek still escapes me when he grabs hold of me. I’m thrown to the side, falling against the couch while the letter opener slips from my hand and skids across the floor.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Finn laughs.

Move, Kiara!

I quickly crawl after it, but a kick to my side sends me tumbling over. My breath explodes from my lungs, a searing pain engulfing my stomach and chest.

Oh, God.

Breathe.

Move!

Not giving up, I stretch to reach my weapon, but Finn’s weight comes down on me. Turning onto my back, I wildly hit him with every ounce of strength I have.

A punch to the left side of my face has my head snapping to the side. Spots dance in my vision, fire spreading through my jaw, my eyes instantly tearing up. A ringing in my ears makes it impossible for me to hear anything else.

Finn grips my hands, and when he starts to wrap his belt around my wrists, my hips buck up to throw him off me. “No!” I scream, the single word sounding horrified.

“You’re only making me harder by fighting back,” Finn laughs as if this is funny.

As if the most horrible moment of my life is entertaining to him.

All my struggling makes him give up on tying my wrists together, and instead, he grabs hold of my blouse, tearing it down the front.

An enraged and terrified sob escapes me, then he grabs at my breasts. When he leans closer, I shove and hit his shoulders, neck, and face.

The only warning I get is a growl, then intense pain stuns my mind from his punch to my face. The world turns black, and my strength instantly vanishes. In and out of consciousness, I feel Finn rip at my clothes. The muggy air licks at my skin, then it’s replaced with the feel of his lips and teeth.

I hear myself cry, the sound haunting.

Shut down.

Leave this place, Kiara.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking you.” His touch is brutal, his hands marking my skin as he squeezes my breasts, then his teeth clamp around my right nipple.

I can feel myself go into shock, my body shivering, my breaths shallow.

Fight!

I force strength into my arms, and my hands splay over his face as I push him away from my breast. He grabs hold of my right arm, pinning it to the floor.

Some more strength returns, and I struggle to free my body from beneath his. At some point, I feel his erection slapping against my thigh, and it fills me with so much revulsion I manage to push him off me.

Scrambling toward the door, I struggle to my feet, only to be taken down with one hell of a force as Finn plows into me.

I cry out in frustration and rage and instantly start to hit and kick at him again. It feels like I’m turning into a wild animal, the only thing keeping me going is my survival instinct.

My nails scratch long grooves over his cheek and neck, the sight of his blood making me feel feral.

Bringing my knee up, I slam it into his stomach, and hearing the breath whoosh from him, empowers me to keep fighting.