Page 73 of Lust

Roman walks forward as we follow, keeping me between the two of them. But the further in we go, the closer JC gets, like he’s walking parallel to us. I get my first proper look at the man responsible for so much death and pain and misery. He’s wearing a pair of tatty jeans with rips in the knees, a dirty white T-shirt and no shoes. Around the same height as Pa, but despite them being the same age, JC looks older, more weathered.

I feel it. The shift in the air, a moment of anticipation, then like a viper, JC jerks forward, snatching hold of my vest and tugging me to him as he releases Pa, shoving him in the direction of Roman and Blake, who catch him.

I scream and Roman roars, holding himself back as Blake steadies Pa on his feet.

Cold metal meets my skin as JC holds the knife to my neck, mirroring his hold on Pa moments ago. I quiet instantly, my eyes meeting Pa’s as tears roll down his bloodied face.

“This is much better,” JC drawls as he runs his free hand over my body. “Hannah was lovely, but she doesn’t have your rack, Summer,” he says, grabbing at my breast, and I see Roman and Blake’s eyes blaze with fury. “Now we are all here and everyone is almost where they’re meant to be, just the little matter of tying you up first, I’m sure you understand, the fun can begin,” he declares and drags me over to a metal framed bed beside an identical one where Hannah lies, arms and ankles tied to the frame, completely naked. Her body is covered in bruises and bite marks and blood smears her inner thighs.

He calls Roman and Blake, and Pa over, and they don’t refuse knowing it’ll be me who suffers if they do. He orders Roman to chain Pa and Blake up to a bar that runs the length of the barn, which looks recently installed, and once they are secured, he has me do the same to Roman, keeping the knife to my throat the whole time. But I shut it out and only focus on Roman.

As I slide the last cuff around Roman’s wrist and click it shut, a tear rolls down my cheek, and I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but JC pulls me away. Tossing me down on the bed, he drops over me, the knife in his left hand beside my head.

“I wonder…does Daddy know you fucked them both? Ooh, who was first? Maybe we need to give him a visual so he can see what a dirty fucking whore you really are.”

His words hit me where he wanted, only they hit different and not as he expected.

“Fuck. You!” I spit out, and ram my knee between his legs, but he moves at the last minute. As he laughs at my failed attempt to escape, I clench my hand into a fist and strike his ribcage. This time my hit is true, but it does no more than cause him to puff out a breath.

“Oh, Summer, Summer, Summer, this is not how this goes,” he says, his tone like ice spreading across my skin. My fists rain down on him, and I kick out, hoping to hit something, but when he cracks me across the face with a fist, my fight leaves me, heading spinning and black dots dance in my eyes.

“That’s it, have a little cat nap while I set everything up,” he whispers in my ear as shouts from Roman, Blake and Pa fill the barn.

I try to fight the pull of darkness, but I can’t, and a second later, it envelopes me.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

ROMAN

“Sydney!” I roar as he punches her in the face. “Sydney, Syd!” My shouts are echoed by the same from Blake and Kincaid. “You fucking?—”

JC spins and strides towards me, all up in my face. “You might not want to finish that sentence…unless you prefer me not to wait until our little Summer comes round from her nap. I like a fight when I fuck, but I can also perform when, well”—he leans in to whisper in my ear—“when they’re sleeping like a baby.” He jumps away laughing when I snarl at him and rattle the chain as it pulls taut, stopping me from wrapping my hands round his scrawny little fucking neck. I’d snap it like a fucking twig.

“You know, there was this one time, at band camp…” He laughs raucously. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Anyway, as I was saying, this one time, I had a fighter. She was a spitfire, fought me every second. But just like Summer over there, she needed a moment to get herself under control. Can’t help it if the girls go crazy over me,” he says, cupping his dick like he’s auditioning forMagic Mikeand not a fucking rapist.

“Shut up, JC. That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” shouts Kincaid.

“And isn’t she the sweetest,” he coos, walking over to Sydney on the bed, still unconscious. He trails a hand down her body, and mutters to himself.

I can’t hear him, but I can imagine what vile fucking things he’s whispering to her.

Springing back up and facing us, he says, “I almost forgot. I’m going to need you to strip. Can’t have you feeling left out when everyone else is wearing their birthday suits, now can we?” He waves a finger in mine and Blake’s direction, indicating for us to get up and take our clothes off.

Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.

“Come on, guys. I thought you’d be keen to show off your bodies. Or are you hiding something?” he asks, walking back towards us. “You know what they say, men with muscles often have…” He holds his pinkie finger up and wiggles it. “Small dicks,” he finishes, imitating a whisper.

He claps his hands. “Up, up,” he cheers before glancing at Sydney, who is slowly coming around. “Now!” His shout echoes in the vast space, and the young girl on the bed beside Sydney jumps.

I slowly climb to my feet. “You’re a sick cunt!” I see Kincaid sigh in relief at Blake and me doing as JC asked.

“Yay for me,” JC says like he’s celebrating my description of him as a win. He’s almost dancing as he watches Blake and I undress, tossing our clothes at his feet in some fucked up idolisation ritual.

I unzip my jeans, wishing to god the bastard wasn’t watching us so closely so I could slip a small blade…somewhere. I’m not relishing the idea of sitting in my boxers completely unarmed while he does whatever the fuck he wants to our girl. I chance a sly glance to Blake, who’s expression mirrors my own.

Like my prayer has been answered, in a skewed kind of way, Sydney groans, drawing his attention. He turns and walks overto her, and I quickly pull the blade from a pocket on my vest, shoving into the waistband of my boxers, thankful for Armani’s thick and tight elasticated waistband that should hold it in place…for now.

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