ELLINGTON
WHEN I WOKE up this morning, I hate to admit I was disappointed. I was alone in my bed, and I wasn’t tied up. The first thing I did was check my phone. Kira had texted me at some point the night before to let me know she was going to bed early and would see me at the university later on today.
That was it. Nothing from Sin. I had to spend an extra thirty minutes getting ready. I have never had to cover up so many bruises on my body before. Wrists, ankles, neck, fuck, even my thighs had them. Thankfully, it’s fall time, so I could wear jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a thin scarf.
All day, my pussy has been wet due to the way my bra rubs against my nipple piercings. I never knew they could be such a turn-on. Every time I swallow, I flinch like I spent all night vomiting alcohol. My ass is a little tender, but it’s not unbearable. I think my shoulders took most of the trauma. My back and arms are really sore. Thank God this day is almost over. As soon as this last class is done, I’m going home and passing the fuck out.
I push open the door to Mr. Hamilton’s class and see it’s empty. It’s not odd that I’m first, but the room feels colder than usual, making me shiver. He sits at his desk, his head down, watching something on his phone. Without a word, I take my seat.
The commotion makes his head snap up, and his dark eyes glare at me. “What in the fuck are you doing?” he demands, jumping to his feet.
I look around to make sure he’s talking to me. When I’m positive I’m the only student in the room, I ask, “Excuse me?”
“Get the fuck out of here, Elli,” he shouts, pointing at the door.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, my brows creasing.
“You are no longer in this class.” He growls, “Get the fuck out.”
“What?” I jump to my feet. “Since when?” I haven’t received an email, and I sure as fuck haven’t dropped this class.
He runs his hands over his dark hair. “Look, I did what he told me to do. I don’t want any trouble. So get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.”
“What are you …？” Easton. “Did Sin tell you to drop me from your class?” I demand.
He gives a rough laugh but doesn’t answer me. I make my way over to his desk and grab his arm.
I gasp when he backhands me across the face. “Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll throw you out!” he screams.
I cup my stinging face, unable to meet his stare. I can hear his heavy breathing while I hold mine. Then his hand grips my cheeks. I try to pull away, but he lifts my face so I have to look up at him. Tears burn my eyes from his hand on my face.
“You’re a fucking whore.” My chest tightens at his words as shame washes over me. Why am I the whore when he was fucking me? He never once acted like it was a chore to have sex with me. Now he’s disgusted? He approached me, not the other way around. “Go crawl back to him on your hands and knees. Let him treat you like the worthless slut you are.”
The first tear falls down my cheek, and his heated eyes watch it. Shoving me away, he causes me to stumble back. I hear the door open behind me as students finally come into class. Without another word, I turn and run out of his classroom, trying to hold in a sob.
Entering the house, I run up to my room and slam my door shut. I don’t know who to be more pissed off at—my professor or Easton. He fucking got me removed from my class.
Did the professor show up last night? If he did, what happened? I passed out on the roller coaster and then woke up in my bed. But I’m not sure how much time had passed. Maybe Sin read about us in my diary that was in the bathroom. I mentioned my nights with David in there. But Sin didn’t seem mad about what he had read. And when did he get the chance to even speak to David? What did he mean by he did what he had been asked? He had to have meant Sin, right? None of it makes sense.
Removing my cell from my back pocket, I toss it onto my bed and go to head toward my bathroom, but I pause. My feet turn, taking me back to my bed. I sit on the side and open my nightstand. Tears run down my face while my finger hovers over the app.
I open it up, and press call.
It rings once, twice, the third time, it stops, and I hold my breath waiting for him—the man in the mask—to speak, but there’s only silence. Checking the screen, I watch the clock counting the seconds, so I know he answered.
I sniff, running my sweaty hand down my jeans. “I need to see you,” I whisper, my throat closing up.
Professor was right. I’m a whore. I’ve never pretended not to be. But Sin? He’s a Lord. I’ll never be anything to him. I’m just something that he can control. The fact that he got me kicked out of class says so.
“Please?” I sniff again, running my hand underneath my runny nose. “I need—”
Click.
The phone drops to the floor after he ends the call. I numbly get up, making my way to the bathroom feeling defeated, betrayed, and abandoned. Just like I did all those years ago after my father passed away. No matter what I do, I can’t escape it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SIN
I ENTER HER French double doors, not even bothering to be quiet. She had been crying. What in the fuck happened that she wanted to see me? The masked me? Not Easton Bradley Sinnett.
I’m fucking pissed. Jealous of myself that she didn’t call Sin. Was I not enough yesterday and last night? Did she think I was fucking around? That she doesn’t belong to me?
It’s been an hour since she called. I was in the middle of something and couldn’t get away right then. It fucking killed me to make her wait. But I had to wrap up what I was doing. I couldn’t tell her I was coming. I can’t chance her recognizing me.
I curse myself when I realize I can’t fuck her. She’ll know it’s me. Maybe I should just tell her and get it over with. Why hide who I am now? It’ll just prove my point that she’s mine. Has been before she ever even knew it.
Looking over at her bathroom door, I watch her exit, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped underneath her arms. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head. Her once pretty ice-blue eyes are bloodshot, her face puffy and wet from tears. Has she been crying this entire time?
Stepping toward her, she notices me. Her legs come to a stop, and I watch her break out into tears almost immediately. She runs to me, throws her arms around my neck, and hugs me tightly. Her body shakes against mine while she sobs.
I pick her up, my gloved hands gripping her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The towel drops to the floor, and I carry her to the bed. Lying down, she curls herself into me. It’s like last night all over again, but it’s not the real me. It’s someone I’ve made up—mask, gloves, hoodie, and contacts. She’s come to need him more than anyone else in her life because I allowed it. Pulling her face out of my chest, she looks up at me, and my body tenses when I look closer at the perfectly placed handprint on her cheek. “Who hit you?” I don’t have to hide my voice because I don’t recognize myself. Rage like I’ve never felt before is making my skin tingle and my heart race.
“Doesn’t … matter.” She hiccups.
Did she fuck David today? Maybe they got rough, and he slapped her around. The thought makes me want to rip off my mask, hold her down, and fuck her ass to remind her she’s mine. If anyone is going to mark her, it should be me.