Page 174 of Sin With Me

The name momentarily means nothing, then, as it sinks in, fear like I’ve never known overtakes my entire body. I tremble as a coldness starts at the tips of my fingers and works its way up my arms.

“W–what?” I breathe. “I don’t—”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he says. “I know who you are.” His lips kick up in a smirk, one that’s ugly and so unlike the man I’ve come to know. “It hurts you don’t recognize me, sweetheart.”

My eyes nearly fall from my head as I stare up at him. He takes another daring step forward, but my feet are firmly rooted to the spot. “Da—” The name almost slips, but I stop myself. “I don’t—”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say my name.”

“Mar—” His face shifts into something angrier, and finally, my feet decide to move. I retreat once more, only to collide with a rigid pew. I’m trapped between him and the wood, unable to escape. “Daddy.”

His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “You say it so sweetly,” he murmurs. Slowly, he looks at me again, his pupils blown and body taut. A hot, rough hand lands on my thigh, the short fabric of my flowy dress doing nothing to protect me from his unwanted touch. “You’re always so sweet, though, aren’t you?”

A surge of bile claws up my throat as his face inches closer, his breath a chilling caress against my cheek. “Please get away from me,” I manage to say.

I never thought one of my viewers would track me down in the real world. Oli's warnings, though mostly jokes, now feel hauntingly prophetic. Roman's cautionary words slam into me, the urgency in his voice echoing, pleading for me to be careful and stay out of trouble.

Yet here I am, engulfed in a situation that's the very definition of trouble. He's not here. Isaac's not here. I'm utterly alone, with this man who holds absolute power over me. He can take anything he wants, and I’m helpless to stop him.

“Please,” I choke, the word ashy on my tongue. I just want him to leave me alone so I can flee to the safety of my bedroom. But he doesn’t. Instead, he presses forward, his hand finding its way higher up my leg.

“It was just a coincidence I found you, Golden Girl,” he whispers.

The name that doesn’t belong to him feels like needles on my skin. His face is mere inches from mine now, and my breathing turns shallow.

“When I first heard your voice, I thought you sounded familiar. It took me a moment to place you, but when I did…” His tongue darts out between his lips, tasting me as he lets out a soft groan. “I’ve imagined so many things, Golden Girl. All the things you’ve done for me online, we can do in person. All the times you begged me to fuck you, to pump you full of my cum, can happen now.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to always stay anonymous.

“We can film things together, just like you did with that fucking guy the other day,” he spits, his voice taking on an angrier note. “Who was it? If I would’ve known you wanted someone to cum on your pretty face for all your viewers, I would’ve introduced myself sooner.” My heart is in my throat, my eyes still squeezed shut as his body hovers over mine.

“Please,” I say again, but he ignores me, pushing further.

“Why would you let someone else touch you when you belong to me, Golden Girl?” His voice is breathless, almost guttural. My skin crawls, the possessive words forcing themselves to embed in my soul. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

That breaks me out of my frozen fear-like state, and I bring my hands up between us, planting them firmly on his chest. I shove him as hard as I can, a sick sense of satisfaction filling me as he stumbles back a step.

Immediately, I move to escape, but his hand wraps around my upper arm. He whirls me back toward him, his face contorted into a fury I’ve never seen before. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

His hand rises, and I watch as it comes down. It slams against my cheek, and I fly backward, a scream ripping from my throat. I crash to the floor, my hand instinctively moving to soothe the throbbing sting.

An ugly, sinister sneer twists his mouth, my body vibrating with terror as I stare up at his towering figure.

A bang clashes through the church, the sound ricocheting off the old rafters. The air between us shifts and the building settles, like the walls themselves are cowering. And as if the Gates of Hell have opened, an ominous figure emerges from the darkness, his face etched in absolute fury.

My Prince of Darkness.

Burn it down.

It would be easy. So fucking easy.

Burn it down.

I sit alone in the stifling quiet of my father's office, the air heavy with the scent of old books and the remnants of his lies. The dim light from the old windows casts long shadows, as if even the church itself can't bear witness to the secrets held within these walls.

This room is supposed to be a sanctuary for those seeking solace, but I know it’s nothing more than a prison of hypocrisy.

Flick.

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