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Story: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROMAN
I ’m heading to the church to meet with Kincaid after he called me yesterday. I’m not concerned about why he wants to talk. I’m more worried about where Sydney has been since she and Blake kissed on Tuesday. It’s been two days and neither of us have seen her, and she didn’t go into work yesterday. Blake went there yesterday after work to talk to her about what happened between them. When he couldn’t see her anywhere, he asked one of the girls, Suzi, I believe, who told him she was sick. We discussed one of us going to check on her but decided just turning up on her doorstep might work against us. I plan to press Kincaid on her today, just enough to not raise suspicion.
The main vestibule is empty when I arrive, and I find Kincaid in his office.
“Ah, Roman, come in. Take a seat.”
I do as he asked, taking the seat across from him. I notice that the bruise on his cheek as faded, but his hand is still bandaged. I take satisfaction in knowing someone hurt the bastard.
“Thank you for coming. Tell me, how was last weekend?”
Having already discussed this, albeit briefly on his return, I’m unsure of where this might be going.
“Like I said on Monday, it went well and everyone seemed happy. Why, is there a problem?” I ask, keeping any inflection of annoyance from my tone.
“No, not at all. In fact, if you’re open to it, I’d like for you to stay on and assist when I’m not here.” He clasps his hands together on the desk, tapping them in anticipation of my answer.
Now I work harder to keep my surprise and suspicions hidden, especially as he seems nervous. “Of course. I’d be happy to. After everything that’s happened recently, it’s nice to find somewhere I feel I could settle,” I say gratefully and laying it on thick.
“Wonderful,” he exclaims, then proceeds to explain the logistics and what is expected of me.
We agree that I will take a few shifts during the week and services when he is away at weekends, which he expects will be every other weekend for now.
My hands fist in my lap at the thought I’ll be freeing him up to commit rape and murder every other weekend, at the least, but I keep a lid on my fury. Fuck knows how, but I do. I smile in all the right places and keep my answers short to avoid my emotions bleeding into my words.
He’s escalating and that means Blake and I need to move up our plans too. There is not a fucking chance in hell I’ll let him do to another woman what the sick son of a bitch did to my sister.
With my foot in the door, our first act is to plant the seed of doubt. The second I’m outside, I call Oz.
“Change of plans. Everything ready for phase one?”
“Jesus. What happened?”
“I don’t have time to explain now. Is everything set or not?” I snap as I march down the street towards Blake’s site office.
“Yeah, man, it’s ready. When do you?—”
“Do it now, Oz.” I don’t wait for him to reply and end the call.
By the time I make it to the site office, I’m about ready to fuck or fight, so getting stopped by some prick Blake works with doesn’t exactly go down so well.
“Hey, you. You can’t be here,” the guy yells from a few feet away and begins stomping toward me.
“Mind your own fucking business and get back to building.” I continue to walk only for him to plant himself in front of me.
“You can’t be here,” he states again, like I didn’t hear him the first time.
“Look, I know you think you’re important with your little lanyard and clipboard, but I don’t give a shit. Get the fuck out of my way.”
His nostrils flare and his face reddens, causing me to smirk, but before he can respond, another guy steps in between us.
“Okay, okay. Let’s cool down. I’ve got it, Skeet.” The guy—Skeet—gives me one last look before spinning on his heels and heading back where he came from. “You’re Roman, right?” the new guy asks, moving so I have to turn and can no longer see Skeet.
I nod, scanning the site for any sign of Blake. “You know Blake?”
“Sure. But you missed him. He left thirty minutes ago.” He gestures toward the exit.
“He say where?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, sorry. But if it’s Blake you’re pissed at, I wouldn’t want to be him when you find him”
“Cheers,” I call out over my shoulder as I stride away. “Sneaky fucker,” I mutter, turning left out of the site toward Sydney’s work.
I hit call on his number as I walk, but it goes to voicemail instantly. I bet the fucking idiot forgot to charge it again. At the bookshop, it doesn’t take long for me to work out that Sydney isn’t here and there’s no sign of Blake either. I was so mad and rushing to get away from Kincaid before I knocked the fucker on his arse that I forgot to question him about Sydney.
Back outside, I try Bake again only to get his voicemail again . With no other option, I decide to head for home—via Sydney’s house. I haven’t thought about what I’ll do once I get there but fuck it. He who dares wins, right?
When we agreed to come after Kincaid, we did our homework and always knew that Sydney might be a good option for leverage. After what I just heard with Kincaid, I’m ready to use whatever means necessary to bury this cunt. If the cost is breaking precious Sydney Kincaid’s heart, then so fucking be it.
I watch Sydney’s house from across the street looking for any sign she or Blake are there. Ten minutes in, I get the first glimpse of movement inside and still full of vengeful fury, I stalk across the street and right up to her front door. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing the doorbell, then with impatience riding me, I hammer my knuckles on door, shaking the damn thing in its frame.
A second later the lock clicks and the door opens a fraction, just enough for Sydney to peer at me with one eye.
“Reverend Stone, what are you doing here?” she asks, nervousness lacing her words.
My eyes scan her tired face before dipping to the small V of bare skin visible from her neck down to her cleavage. Tracking the movement, her free hand comes up, tugging the cotton dressing gown tighter around herself.
My nostrils flare as I inhale that addictive coconut scent that always clings to her. Bringing my eyes back to meet hers, I say, “You’ve not been at work. Why?” The words come out harsher than intended, but if she’s scared or shocked by them, she hides it well.
“I’ve not been well, not that it’s any of your concern. How did you know?” she demands, opening the door more and straightening her spine.
Hmmm, she’s got some fire. I like that.
“I went there to look for you. And now I’m here checking on you,” I tell her. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” This time she’s not so successful at covering her surprise.
“No. I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she says, shifting her feet and lowering her gaze, and I notice she’s placed one foot against the bottom of the door.
The move brings a smile to my face, and I watch as she takes a deep, nervous breath. “And why is that, Sydney?” I ask smoothly, drawing out her name. It sounds innocent, even to my own ears. It’s anything but. Never mind surprising her, I’ve fucking shocked myself.
She stutters, her hands fumbling at the collar of her dressing gown and her cheeks reddening, and my cock hardens beneath my trousers.
“Invite me in, Sydney.” You know you want to , I think but don’t say. I don’t need to. She can read it in my tone, see it in my face. I want her to invite me in, and she knows it. I think she has a damn good idea of what would happen if she did.
Temptation is riding her hard, and I can feel the indecision coming off her. It’s so thick I can practically taste it. I’m reminded of Blake’s words about how delicious she tastes, and I can’t think of anything but tasting her for myself.
“No, I…that’s not a good idea,” she stutters. “I think you better leave before I call the?—”
“Police,” I say, finishing for her, then laughing at the very idea she’d be dropping her dear old dad right in the shit. Stepping closer to the door, I rest a hand on it and give it a gentle push. “Let me in, Sydney.” This time I push harder, and it’s enough for her to take me seriously. Whether through fear or curiosity, she moves her foot and steps back, letting the door swing open.
I don’t waste a second and step over the threshold as she continues to retreat. Her eyes flick between me, the door and behind her as she searches for any possible escape.
“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. What do you want?” she demands, licking her lips and her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I don’t hurt women. I won’t hurt Sydney—at least as long as she’s unaware who her father really is. But I can’t deny how much I like that she’s afraid. Nervous anticipation fills the air like steam in a sauna.
“What do I want? Now, isn’t that an interesting question,” I say, shoving the door closed before walking toward her.
“Who are you?” she asks as her back hits the door frame of the room behind her, startling her. Wide-eyed, she gasps, gripping the frame as I close the distance between us. “I thought you were a man of God, but no such man would treat a woman like this,” she whispers as I reach her, bringing our faces within an inch of each other.
All pretence of who I really am has vanished, and in his place stands a man of darkness.
An avenging angel.
I bite my tongue on revealing how fucking wrong she is about that. And it’s so hard with her ragged breaths whispering over my lips and her wide, terrified eyes staring at me.
“That’s what you believe?” I ask with a growl.
“It’s what I know,” she responds. “It’s what God decreed,” she states firmly, positive in her words. Certain that she is correct.
I wish I wasn’t here in her life to shatter that pretty illusion. “And what does God tell you about those who harm others, huh?”
She frowns, confused as to why I’d be asking her this when as a reverend I would know. “Maybe you should go home and study your bible a little better.” This time she fires the words at me with a fierce conviction.
“Maybe I should. And will you be on your knees praying for forgiveness after I leave?”
Her eyes spark with knowing, and she sucks in a small breath before she hides it with a mask of denial. “I have nothing to ask forgiveness for,” she says affronted.
“No,” I tease, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Are you sure? Because I hear you kissed a man in an alley like a dirty little whore, and you liked it, didn’t you?”
She shakes her head causing her cheek to brush against mine. “N-no. I…”
“Lying too. Naughty, naughty, Sydney.” She shakes her head again. Unable to deny myself, I press a chaste kiss below her ear, thoroughly enjoying toying with her. She stills instantly, trapping her breath in her lungs, and because I’m a bastard, I take advantage of her surprise and press my body against hers as I continue to pepper kisses along her neck. I can barely contain myself when I reach the pulse point in her neck, feeling the rapid thrumming beneath her delicate skin.
In barely a second, her breath rushes from her in a ragged exhale, ending on a whimper as her body relaxes.
I grip her hips, adjusting her slightly, and pressing into her, grinding against her core.
“Ahh…oh my g—” Her words are cut short as her phone rings from somewhere in the house. It snaps her from her lusty haze, and she shoves me away. Wrapping her arms around herself, her phone continues to ring, but she makes no move to answer it. Instead, she stands straight and glares at me.
“Get out. Get out of my house.”
I turn to face her fully, unabashedly adjusting my hard cock. “Is that what you want?” I ask.
“Yes! Leave. Stay away from me.”
“I’ll go,” I say casually and turn to leave as her phone starts up another round of incessant ringing. Pausing, I look back. “See you in church, Sydney. You should get that. It might be your father.”
I leave her hugging herself, confused and turned on.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46