Sinful Truth

by Ella Miles

  I should find more clothes.

  I should break down the door or one of the windows.

  I should run.

  But I can’t.

  The island is too small. Zeke could find me easily. Or Julian…I won’t risk Julian finding me. So I’ll stay.

  I walk over to the dresser and pull out drawer after drawer until I find a pair of sweatpants. I put them on, feeling less naked, even though I have to roll the waistband several times and tie the string around my body to keep the pants up.

  I may not be able to escape, but at least I can find out more about Zeke. I can gather as much ammunition possible on the man. I need him to get me off this island. I need answers.

  So I dig through all of the drawers in his dresser. All I find are clean boxer briefs that somehow already smell like him. I inhale the sweet mix of ocean, fresh-cut grass, and intangible man. I find socks, T-shirts, and jeans. All I learn is that he likes his clothes casual, yet designer.

  I dig through the nightstands on either side of his bed. I find water bottles, pain pills, and a tattered copy of Moby Dick. He reads apparently. Or at least he likes this particular book.

  I find nothing else I might expect from a monster like him. Nothing kinky. No BDSM stuff. No handcuffs, ties, whips. I don’t even find a condom. Maybe he isn’t into safe sex? Maybe he’s one of those sick bastards who likes to impregnate women and then beat them until the baby no longer exists?

  Fuck.

  I slam the last drawer shut, trying not to think that way anymore. Zeke isn’t an angel, but he can’t be that big of a monster, can he?

  I sit back on my heels and look around the room. There is no door other than the one leading to the hallway. No closet to search through. No bathroom to rummage through. I’ve officially run out of things to search in the first fifteen minutes he’s gone. And I’ve learned practically nothing about Zeke.

  Wait…there is no other door! No bathroom!

  I stand up and look again. That can’t be right. This room is too beautiful and grand for a bathroom to not be connected to it. But there is no door. There is no place for another door to be; it would ruin the enormous ocean vista out the windows.

  My belly rumbles. I place my hand on my stomach and frown. Not only do I not have any food for however many hours Zeke is gone, but I don’t have a bathroom.

  I sigh.

  I won’t let him win. He’s just doing this to agitate me and rile me up, so when he returns, I’ll fight harder. That’s probably what his sick mind is thinking. That’s why he didn’t touch me last night. He knew I was too exhausted to fight hard.

  I eye the big bed and climb back under the sheets. I’m not tired since I’m used to only getting a few hours at a time. And despite it not being the smartest thing I’ve ever done, I slept just fine with Zeke next to me all night.

  My pussy pulses and my tongue runs over my lips just thinking about Zeke.

  Dammit!

  I can’t want him. He’s a horrible person. But then again, I’m always falling for the wrong men. Time and time again, I find myself lusting over a man who deserves to be thrown in prison, not in my bed.

  You make bad decisions, that’s why I don’t let you make any decisions for us anymore, I think to my crotch.

  But it’s been so fucking long since a man touched me, brought me to the brink of ecstasy, pounded into me until only pleasure cascaded through me. I may not be able to find a good man, but I can find a to-be-confirmed-bad boy. A complete stranger I can fuck and abandon before I get to know him. Those are the only good guys anyway, the kind whose shit I don’t know about.

  For now, my fingers will have to do. I don’t have anything else to do for the hours that I have to wait for Zeke to return anyway.

  I lay in the middle of Zeke’s bed, under the cloud-like covers. My eyes scan the room, looking for the camera I’m sure the bastard has hidden in here. The windows are hard to plant a camera on without it being noticeable. I look up at the light fixture—a strong possibility, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary to indicate a camera. Then I look to the door.

  I narrow my eyes on the door handle as I try to spot anything there that shouldn’t be—bingo. The screw on top of the door handle is bigger than the one below it. It appears to be more flat, more like a nail than the screw underneath. And I guarantee if I got out of bed and walked over to it, I’d be able to see a tiny lense instead of a screw.

  For a moment, I consider ducking under the covers to touch myself. Keeping silent, so even if he guesses what I’m doing, he will never be able to see me. Just like he will never be able to touch me.

  But what’s the fun in that?

  I’ve never been the kind of woman who shies away from owning who I am. I’m a strong, confident, sexual woman. And I own myself; no man owns me.

  Pain fills my heart when I speak the words to myself, in my own head. Because I can’t tell a lie, and those words are all lies.

  I throw the covers off my body and push the sweatpants down off my hips before spreading my legs wide, giving the camera the perfect view of my body.

  He’s supposed to be working, but he might be watching me right now on his phone, and I plan on giving him one hell of a show.

  I lift the shirt up off my head and then shake my locks, letting my hair fall down in my face. I bite my lip, wishing I had some red lipstick and fuck-me heels on to really bring the message home, but I don’t.

  I own me.

  I own my body.

  I own my mind.

  My soul.

  My heart.

  No man will ever claim a single part of me as his. And even if a man does, I will fight to get every part of me back.

  I arch my back and puff out my chest as my hand twists my nipple between my fingers.

  I let the images come of men I’ve fucked before—men that were excellent in bed and hotter than gods. I don’t think about what the men did to me after. How they all betrayed me. I just let their expansive chests and rippling abs fill my head. I let my mind drift over each and every one of them, like they are nothing but objects for me to get off to.

  But then my mind stops and flutters to a man it shouldn’t.

  No!

  I open my eyes, pushing him out of my brain.

  I take a deep breath—and Zeke fills my nostrils. I smell him everywhere. On the pillow, the sheets. His smell turns me on.

  And I know who I’ll be thinking about as I pleasure myself—my fucking master.

  It’s wrong…so fucking wrong. But I can’t stop myself from thinking about Zeke. Not when I’m dripping and I haven’t even touched myself yet.

  I let my hand slide down my stomach and between my thighs, I find my lips and let my long fingers rub over the whole area taking my time as moisture covers my fingers.

  I look straight into the camera as one hand pleasures myself. This is what you are missing, bastard! This is what you’ll never get! You will never touch me. Never hurt me. I have all the power here, not you.

  I rub my fingers up over my clit, as it grows more sensitive. I imagine Zeke’s big hands touching the sensitive bud. His tongue lapping, as more my slave than master. But as soon as he makes me come, the roles change. I’m his.

  How I would beg, plead, kiss—do anything for his cock to stretch me in that uncomfortable, delicious way his large cock is surely capable of, where most men come up short. Zeke would fill me to my limits. He’s a big guy, and I’ve seen the outline of his partial erection. The real thing would be the stuff of dreams.

  Just thinking about what Zeke could do to me if he chose to fuck me like a man instead of a monster brings me close, until I’m at the place where if I don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop the impending orgasm. But I don’t want to stop. I want to come over and over. Until I drive him crazy. Until he knows if he fucked me tonight, I wouldn’t feel anything but my own fingers on my pussy—I’d be numb to him.

  As I come, I use my other hand to flip off the camera. The release
as I come is huge. I feel it in every nerve in my body. It cascades down my body like a waterfall overwhelming all of my nerves in my body.

  It’s a big fuck you to every other man in the world. I don’t need a man to make myself come. I don’t need a man to make it the best orgasm of my life. I don’t need a man…

  Dammit, there I go lying to myself again. Because I got off to a man—Zeke.

  I let the orgasm roll through me before I get up. I walk naked over to the door, and then I give the camera both of my middle fingers.

  “Fuck you! I will never be yours! You will never touch me. You will never fuck me. You don’t fucking own me!” I slam my hand on the door and jump back when it creaks open the tiniest bit.

  What the…?

  I expect Zeke to walk through the door. Did he choose this moment to come home?

  I swallow, realizing my little show might have been a bad idea. As much as I wanted Zeke to come home and let me out of my cage, I was safe as long as he wasn’t here. With him here, I’m in danger full-time again.

  I’m suddenly very self-conscious of my nakedness and fingers that smell like sex.

  He won’t fuck me. I won’t let him.

  Lies. If he wants to fuck you, what is your scrawny ass going to be able to do about it?

  I stare at the door, waiting for Zeke to pull it open. He doesn’t.

  I push my hand on the door, and it opens.

  I walk out and look at the other side of the door. There is no lock. The door only locks from the inside.

  The fucking bastard—Zeke lied to me.

  I hate human traffickers, and thieves, and rapists, and murderers. But liars—I hate them most of all. Other monsters show you exactly who they are. They don’t hide their horns; you can tell they are the devil right from the start. But liars—they pretend to be better than all the rest. They like to play games, deceive, and trick you into a false sense of security before they rip out your heart and stab it to death.

  Zeke is a human trafficker. One look at him tells me he’s also a thief, a rapist, and a murderer. But I thought at least he could be honest about who he is. Instead, he’d rather play games and test me.

  Fine, if he wants to play games, we will play games. But unlike him, I won’t lie and cheat. I’ll win while telling every damn truth I have. Even if he’s too stupid to believe me—I’ll win.

  12

  Zeke

  The day dragged, but it’s finally time for me to go home. It’s eight o’clock in the evening, and I know Julian has a few guests coming over to occupy the rest of his night, which means I can get the hell out of here. I’m tired of talking to Julian about contracts, men who I can trust to transport the women, and the plan for selling them. I’m tired of pretending I find Julian’s way of making money admirable. Although, I never verbally agreed with him. I never said anything to the contrary—lie by omission.

  Why I thought I owed Julian a debt though is ridiculous. This man is a coward and a greedy criminal. He knew I could help him, so he let his doctors treat me. He didn’t save me—not like Siren did.

  I should have left the island as soon as I was strong enough to go. I could be back with Enzo, Kai, and Langston by now. Or at the very least in a cabin hiding out until I healed enough to not be a burden on my friends. I shouldn’t have stayed.

  But I wouldn’t have seen Siren again. She would have been sold to a different man, one who would have already raped and beaten her. She’d probably already be dead.

  My heart rages just thinking about what would have happened to Siren if I hadn’t had been there that night, if I hadn’t saved her.

  I shake my head. I haven’t saved her yet. She’s not safe until she’s off the island. There is something I’m missing between her and Julian. Some dark past I’m not aware of. But I’m going to find out, and Siren is going to be the one to tell me.

  “Good work today, Zeke,” Julian says as he takes a puff of his cigar.

  I nod.

  “Want to stay for a drink? I heard you drank at Oscar’s, so it seems like your self-imposed sobriety has ended.”

  I nod. “I figured my body had done enough healing; it’s time to get back to the real world. But I’ll take a rain check on the drink.”

  Julian smiles, evilly. “Of course. You have more important things to get back to. I was surprised to see you up so early this morning at work; I assumed you had a long night breaking that one in.”

  My insides curl as he speaks about Siren like she’s a horse needing domesticating instead of a woman. I don’t give him confirmation of what I’m feeling inside.

  “Need anything else before I go?” I ask instead, trying to change the subject.

  Julian takes a long puff on his cigar as he rests his other hand across the back of his expensive red couch.

  “No, but I plan on cashing in that rain check on Friday night.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “I’m having my closest friends over then. They will be our best bets at securing buyers for the women.”

  I cringe on the inside. I’m going to actually do this—sell women to monsters. I don’t have a choice if I want to protect my friends—if I want to protect Siren. I need to do the job, earn Julian’s trust, and then get the fuck out of here.

  “I’ll be here then.”

  “Good, and bring your pet.”

  “Pet?” I ask automatically, not understanding what Julian is talking about, until I remember the previous night. He called Siren a pet.

  “Yes, that beautiful whore you spent so much money on. Someday you’ll have to tell me how you earned so much money to waste on a creature like her. But I can understand the intrigue. I understand wanting to harness that kind of power.”

  “I don’t think she’ll be up for meeting anyone so soon. Not after what I have planned for her.”

  Julian grins. “Just make sure she’s still breathing. It doesn’t matter if you’ve tamed her yet. Or if she’s broken and bleeding. The men will be drawn to her no matter what. They will see the high-quality women we have. They will spend more money and want more of our inventory.”

  I try to think quickly to keep Siren at home instead of in Julian’s clutches, but it’s not my strong suit. I’m a methodical, careful thinker. Give me a month to make a plan, and it will run perfectly. I can protect others quickly with my body, but not my wit.

  So I just nod and leave. I won’t let Siren anywhere near Julian or his men. But I have a couple of days to figure out a plan.

  I drive the truck home and park it in front of the house. It’s time to see if Siren has escaped or not.

  She’s attracted to me. Her eyes speak volumes. She wants me. And she’s terrified of Julian. She thinks I will protect her against him. She’s right. But she doesn’t get to know that.

  She didn’t run.

  I open the front door and immediately realize I’m wrong. She fucking ran, but only after trashing my house.

  Furniture is kicked over, papers are scattered everywhere, and dishes are shattered all over the floor. My eyes fume as I take in all the damage she did.

  I understand she doesn’t want to be a hostage, but this is unacceptable. I haven’t been anything but hospitable toward her. I fed her last night. I gave her a comfy bed to sleep in. I’ve protected her all day from Julian. And this is how she repays me—by breaking everything in my house and then leaving.

  I walk over to the liquor cabinet, hoping she didn’t shatter my whiskey because I’m in desperate need of a drink. That fucking pain in my side of a woman—she spilled every drop and then shattered the bottle for good measure.

  Other than last night, I’ve haven’t had a drink in months. And now, when I desperately need it, she took my relief from me.

  I decide to go shower and wash the anger away before I decide to search for her or not. But a creak stops me.

  I look down the hallway to my right, the opposite direction of the bedrooms. And I can sense her presence without seeing or hearing her.
r />   She’s here.

  She didn’t run.

  I take my time walking down the hallway. No one can make me rush unless I want to. And I don’t fucking want to rush into that room. Because I’ll break my promise not to hurt her if I do.

  I take a deep breath before turning the corner to the sitting room. It’s my favorite room in the house, so it doesn’t surprise me Siren was drawn to it. But if she destroyed this room too, I’m going to throw her ass out, and she can figure out how to deal with Julian on her own.

  The room is perfect, untouched. However, instead of being empty and mine, as usual, Siren has taken over the room as her’s.

  I stand in the doorway and growl, making my feelings known without having to speak.

  Her eyes drift up from the book in her lap and the glass of red wine in her left hand.

  “You going to speak, or are you just going to stand there?” she asks, with a knowing smirk on her lips. I’m starting to believe her now when she told me she wasn’t an angel.

  “I’m not the one who needs to speak. You do,” I say, still standing in the doorway. If I enter the room, I’ll lose my temper, and I have no idea what I’m capable of doing to her. I’ve never been this pissed off with a woman before. She ignites feelings I didn’t even know I could have.

  She raises an eyebrow and then casually takes a sip of her wine. “I don’t think so. I think you have things you need to say first.”

  I lose it.

  I’m to her in one giant step. I shove the book out of her hand and down the glass of wine, needing alcohol in my system to settle my nerves as I press her deeper into the chair.

  Her eyes bulge as she grips the armrests of the chair.

  “You destroyed my house! Do you know how much damage you caused? Do you know how much money I’ve already spent on you? How much troub—” I stop myself before I reveal my real thoughts.

  She glares at me. “You lied to me! You said you locked me in the bedroom and didn’t actually lock the door. You made me feel like an idiot. You locked me in a room with no bathroom or food. You made this all into one big game. This is my life! And I won’t be lied to.”