Page 113 of Caged In

Sin’s in a chair by his head as Izz lies on his stomach on the tortuously bare prison bunk, his pant leg bunched up above the knee. The artist’s back is to them, sitting in another chair, hunching over Izz’s exposed leg.

“I don’t know why you pay for this stuff,” Izz winces as the needle passes over a particularly sensitive place on his calf, “it’s not like I do anything in return for it.”

Sin smirks, the only warning Izz receives before he opens his mouth in reply, “so you don’t bend over for me. I was imagining you sprawled out on my bunk—”

“Oh, my God. Stop,” Izz frantically looks back at the artist. He’s never felt so embarrassed in his entire life—

“Satan,” Sin sits up in his chair, leaning closer to Izz.

“Huh?”

“YourGodreference is repulsive,” Sin slides his fingers through Izz’s hair, tugging lightly, sending an immediate response to Izz’s cock, “oh, Satan. Is the term you should use . . . If you want me to do sin unto your body.”

Fuck . . .

He is now officiallygetting a tattoo with a raging hard-on digging into the metal bunk below him. No squishy relaxing tattoo chairs in prison, to cushion his raging erection.

He’s ashamed of his body’s reaction. Of how easily Sin gets inside his head . . . How much of a hold Sin has over him . . .

You truly are ruined . . .

35

Izz’s not sure if he should be worried by the look on Sin’s face.

He’d agreed to allow Sin to try again with the knife-on-skin action—he’d actually spent the night in Sin’s cell. Sin had woken early and, in turn, had woken Izz up to play with.

He’s slightly put out by the shine in Sin’s eyes. But he’s more interested in stepping off the ledge and into a darker realm. His experience with it in the showers had been euphoric.

“Close your eyes. Let yourself feel it. Don’t over think,” Sin instructs, and Izz follows the orders. Closing his eyes, he relaxes on his stomach, bare to sin’s eyes, arms tucked under the pillow his head is resting on.

Sin’s hands stroking up and down his thighs. Massaging the muscles in a calming rhythm. He lets the sensations consume him. Giving in to his body’s desires, his lust.

Hands caressing. Rubbing. Massaging his flesh . . .

He sighs as his muscles slowly unlock. The fearful tension seeping out. His mind flowing into the moment. His dread leaving . . .

The first cut is tentative. A delicate move of blade through skin. A small sting, and it’s gone. Sin’s lips working his neck—kissing, sucking . . . biting. Taking his mind away from everything. And it’s working. His body is opening up to Sin’s ministrations. Wanting more. Needing more.

The next slash is sluggish, dragging over his thigh before sinking into skin. Warmth trickling down his thigh—his breath hitching—then the blade is gone once more. Hands kneading his ass, teeth grazing his shoulder. A distraction he clings too.

He sucks in a breath as a finger pushes inside him. Working its way in deep, sliding over sensitive walls—

He arches his back into Sin when the finger hits the place inside that has him seeing stars. His breath ragged. “Fuck . . .” He grits the word out on an exhale.

“Your body responds deliciously to me,” Sin practically purrs, pushing down on Izz’s sweet spot.

The leisurely way Sin pierces Izz again, with the blade, has him digging his hands into the sheets. Begging, “please.”I don’t know what I want.“It hurts.”

Sin pushes a second finger inside. “Do you want me to stop . . .” his voice holds an amused undertone to it.

“N-no. Please.”What do I want?

I can’t think. I can’t—

“Didn’t think so,” Sin removes his fingers, lining his cock up with Izz’s entrance. Pushing in. Penetrating with a sluggish air. In no hurry to finish. Wanting to drag this out for as long as possible.

Izz whimpers, his breath hiccupping, his body overstimulated. His sweat slickening his burning skin. His core heating up, shearing his insides.

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