Page 7 of Sinful Sacrifice

Her pussy probably even better.

Pippa is beautiful. Her beauty is what caught my attention when I watched her on camera before entering the room.

She chews on the edge of her lip. They’re light pink and delicate, like no one has ever kissed her passionate enough to rough them up.

That’s exactly what I want to do.

Widening my legs, I prop my elbows on my knees. “I’ll knock off half your father’s debt if you dance for me, Pippa.”

She freezes, gaping at me.

I check my watch. “You have ten seconds to say yes or no.”

3

Damien stares at me hungrily, like a man who’s been taken hostage and hasn’t eaten in days.

I pinch myself, making sure I’m not in some freakish dream.

I grew up around men like him. They enjoy playing games with their victims, as if murder gives them a hard-on. And I’d stupidly become the easiest prey in history.

They’ll mock me in true crime documentaries.

She didn’t scream, run, or even send a hand signal for help. Instead, she led him up the stairs, into her apartment, and stood before him, debating whether to dance for him. Oh, what a silly victim.

Damien doesn’t seem as cruel as others. If someone owed my uncle money and failed to pay, he wouldn’t only slam their face into a steering wheel. He’d brutalize them, making the family watch, and then do the same to them.

But here I am, still breathing.

So is my father, to my knowledge.

I shake my head, trying to focus on my current problem—Damien’s offer.

If he knocks off half my father’s debt, we’d have enough to clear the balance.

I relax my shoulders, begging my tight body to do the same.

It’s just a dance, Pippa.

I’ve danced for hundreds of people on stages.

This shouldn’t be any different.

So, why is my stomach flip-flopping with the worst case of stage fright ever?

The people I’ve danced for didn’t stare at me like this, is why.

His dark eyes probe mine, brimming with desire, a man ready to be rewarded.

There’s so much on the line for this.

Yesterday, two loan sharks threatened to skin my mother and sister alive. A week before, someone burned down my mother’s dance studio. I’m unsure of how many people my father owes money to, but they keep popping up like zits when I’m on my period.

Damien taps his watch face. “Ticktock, Pippa.”

If dancing for him means helping my family, then I’ll fucking dance for him.

I step forward, mind made up.