Page 98 of Caged In

Izz shakes his head as he’s backed into the wall, Sin prowling closer until they are chest to chest. Sin has to know he’s freaking out, panicking internally. Too scared to let out his inner scream.

Sin’s lips brush over Izz’s ear, “you’ve enjoyed me biting you . . .” Sin emphasises his words by grazing his teeth over Izz’s neck, causing a shiver to run down his body. “Well. Knife-play holds a similar pleasure . . . I promise you’ll enjoy it . . . I know you will,” Sin drawls.

Izz shudders at the tongue sliding over his throat. His body pressed firmly against the wall. Sin trapping him in place, with no way to break free—

Except he isn’t fighting back. He’s not trying to push Sin away. And he can feel his resolve dwindling by the second as Sin continues his ministrations on Izz’s skin. Kissing and sucking hickies to join the countless bruises.

He wants Sin to press closer. His desires are flaring to life. Being placed in such a dangerous position shouldn’t turn him on as much as it is . . .

Sin grips Izz’s jaw tightly, shoving his face upwards, exposing his throat. “Only I’ll use something slightly sharper, to mark your smooth . . .”

Sin’s other hand runs over Izz’s uncovered body. Reminding him how naked he still is. How vulnerable he is to the male touching him.

“. . . Clear. . .”

Nails faintly digging into his skin, to leave red lines over his abdomen. Sliding . . . Dragging . . . Electrifying the sharp pin pricks of pain surging through his nerves.

“. . . Skin . . .”

A hand cups Izz between his legs. His erection hard and throbbing in the others hold. Sin’s hand lazily moves up and down. A rhythm which does nothing but amp up his desires.

The prospect of being cut . . . Of Sin using a blade on him . . . The thought shouldn’t be leaving his soul an aching mess. Begging wordlessly for Sin to do what he promises.

What is wrong with me?

31

The yard is surprisingly nice today. The Gang’s laid back on the soft grass, enjoying the calming peace. Erik is practically asleep curled up by Phelix’s side. No cold wind or bitter rains to disturb them. And the sun isn’t scorching, merely a warm comforting embrace.

It has been raining on and off the past couple days—and the few days before that it was as hot as shit—not that it matters too much in here. The rain that is—they have to spend most of their days indoors anyway. And the prison is surprisingly well acclimatised. The day’s heat, or the cold winds, you would never know until you walk outside.

Downside, the yard isonlyopen to the inmates for a small window of time after breakfast and during the work period. Although there are the rare occasions it’s closed off for the entire day.The changes aren’t common. And he’s not entirely sure why they occur.

He finds it strange that they open the yard during the work period. As the vast majority of inmates have jobs—he supposes it makes sense for the inmates who work the kitchen, after all, they work three shifts a day for an entire week. Gives them time away from the rest of the criminal elements in here when the kitchen staff have their week off—when it switches to the second set of kitchen working inmates. So they can chill outside without the hassle of the rest of the prison filling the yard.

Although Levis had been running a contraband gig out of the kitchen, so they wouldn’t truly be away from the criminal elements. And they are criminals too.

Wonder who took over the business after Levis died?

Even under the whirlpool of strange prison thoughts, Izz’s relaxed. Comfortable. A Zen warrior about to embark on some hippyritual of peace of mind—inner peace?Is it called inner peace? Or is that from a movie he’d watched with his sister . . . ? It sounds familiar.

His calm composurehas little to do with the weather, and more to do with the fact that he and Sin are officially a couple. No, Sin hasn’t called him boyfriend or held his hand and confessed his undying love. Nothing has really changed with Sin’s behaviour.

In Izz’s mind, however, it is official. They hang out all the time. They talk about random stuff. They kiss and make out. They do intimate things together—

Izz scoffs at himself, “intimate things.” He mumbles under his breath, “say it like it is, Izz, you had sex.”

—it’s official in the way they’d fucked—well, sort of. Does it count if you haven’t been filled with their entire length or you stop after a few penetrations?

“What’s up with your neck, man?” Zidie helps himself to grabbing Izz’s shirt collar, pulling it down to reveal more bruising.

Izz shoves his friend off, rearranging his shirt to cover the marks—watching Zid throw out a hand onto the ground, to catch himself, a grin splitting his cupcake face in two.

“Nothing,” Izz bites out.

He likes being bitten, so sue him. Doesn’t mean he wants to talk to Zid about it.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like you’re auditioning to become a canvas for some CSI show.” Zidie throws a handful of grass in Izz’s vague direction—payback for the shove.

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