Page 29 of Wicked Sins

I tip my head back and squint up at the guy standing a foot away from the couch. More people are standing behind him, but they’re mostly indistinguishable blobs.

Because of the crack.

Crack?

I giggle and reach for the guy’s hand. “You also Jo’s friend?” I ask, managing to snag his wrist before he pulls away from my touch.

“The only one in this room,” he mutters. Then he stabs a finger toward Sean. “This is fucked up, and you know it. I’m taking her home.”

Things move too fast. Everything blurs. I fall over onto my side, close my eyes, and let the noises and the shouts and someone’s pained yell wash over me.

Then I’m in the air, suspended by a pair of strong arms. When I manage to open my eyes, Sean’s face appears. A moment later, it blurs into Mr. Bale’s.

I grab his shirt, nestling my face into his strong chest. “I love you,” I murmur, squirming and wriggling and wishing he’d hold me tighter. “I love you so much.”

“You too, sweetie,” he says.

But that voice is wrong. It’s not Mr. Bale.

Where am I?

I free-fall for a split second, and then bounce onto something soft. I roll over onto my side and then my tummy. Deliciously soft and silky sheets. A red light shines in one corner. I can make out sharp lines of furniture blurring into softer shapes as my eyes threaten to close again.

Don’t you dare sleep. Gotta stay awake.

You’ll thank me later, darling.

“Go away, Jo,” I mumble, and then giggle. “Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” a voice says above my head. “None of us are.”

There’s a laugh, and it’s not from the person who just spoke.

“Where’s Jo?” I ask, as my eyes start drifting closed again.

Stay awake, darling.

I can’t, Jo. I’m too tired. Everything feels too nice. The sheets against my skin. The cool air on my naked body. So nice—

“Christ, you guys see this shit?”

Hands run over my belly, my hips, my thighs.

“Someone gave her a good beating.”

“Fuck.”

“You think it’s Jo?” someone asks.

More hands now. I squirm as they stroke my entire body, tweaking my nipples, gripping my hair, forcing their way between my legs.

“Wouldn’t put it past that creepy fucker,” someone says.

I know that voice.

No, I don’t.

I’m so confused.

---