by Dani René
WHISPER
Sins of Seven Series
Dani René
Edited by
Shana Vanterpool
Copyright © 2017 by Dani René
Published by Dani René
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
ISBN: 978-0-6399001-9-3
Contents
WARNING
Prologue
1. Elijah
2. Giana
3. Elijah
4. Giana
5. Elijah
6. Giana
7. Elijah
8. Giana
9. Elijah
10. Giana
11. Elijah
12. Giana
13. Elijah
14. Giana
15. Elijah
16. Giana
17. Elijah
18. Giana
19. Elijah
20. Giana
21. Elijah
22. Giana
23. Elijah
24. Giana
25. Elijah
Epilogue
Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Stalk Me
Also by Dani René
WARNING
In a world of secrets, where sins are hidden from sight, people live their lives hoping that those around them never know what desires they conceal. The darkest needs, those that taunt just below the surface. Those they hide in the deepest recesses of their minds. Those things they don’t admit to. The things they don’t talk about. That’s what this series touches on. You may find some of the subject matter disturbing, you may even look away, cringe, and gasp. But that’s why I wanted to write these seven couples. These couples came to me with their confessions and I obeyed their need to have their stories told. The dark, depraved, the taboo. The things we may find tempting, alluring, and may even be turned on by it. That’s what I wanted to write.
Each story is an interconnected standalone, delving into the relationship of the couples you’ll meet. There will be sex, there will most certainly be foul language. And there will DEFINITELY be taboo subjects covered.
The Sins of Seven revolves around seven couples who are so different in nature, in what their likes and dislikes are. They’re each unique in desire, in their personalities, and even in the way they try to show affection. They don’t love. At least, they don’t think they do, they don’t believe they’re worthy of it.
Each story will make a point of focusing on one of the seven deadly sins.
Greed, Pride, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Envy.
Although they’ll be released in their own order, you’ll be able to tell which sin, follows which couple and their journey to possibly find their happily ever after.
Please heed this warning.
*This is a dark romance, suitable for mature audiences, 18+ ONLY. Strong sexual themes and violence, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. Certain scenes are graphic and could be upsetting to some. This story is NOT for everyone. Proceed with caution. Discretion is advised.
Dedication
To the women who love the dark.
Who submit and relinquish control.
Be careful who you give that gift to,
not all are worthy of your submission.
* * *
To ALL women out there,
I want you to remember one thing,
no matter how broken you feel,
you are strong and beautiful.
Don’t let ANYONE tell you otherwise.
“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.”
Laura Esquivel
Prologue
Gia
It's been weeks since I saw him. Since the moment I laid eyes on the tall, dark and handsome man, I knew I wanted him. My memory is crystal clear. It’s him. It’s always been him, only I can’t go to him and tell him who I am, so I watch him from afar. He walks into the store with his briefcase in hand every day, dressed in an Armani suit that is tailored for him. I know this because there’s no secrets between us. At least, there never used to be.
* * *
Elijah Draydon.
* * *
Thirty-six-year-old billionaire with a seemingly perfect life. At least, that's what it looks like from where I’m standing. With eyes the color of gold, dark hair that's tousled in such a way I wonder if he fucks just before he walks into the store. And lips that curl perfectly into a Cupid's bow. Full, pink, and delicious.
His five o’clock shadow is barely there, the dark dusting just visible, making sure my thighs squeeze together in that needy way I’m sure most women do when they look at him. Everything about him screams sex; he exudes it like it’s part of his personality. I have no doubt that when he sheds that designer suit, it’s exactly what he’s good at. Making women come so hard they forget their own name. I just wish I could be one of those again. I was once, only he doesn’t know it. He won’t recognize me because I don’t look the same. I’ve changed my hair, I no longer have those god-awful braces, and I’ve grown into a woman. Years have passed, and even now when I look at him, I recall every moment his fingers touched my body, and the way his lips would devour my cunt.
Each morning, I serve his coffee and at every lunch time I make sure his Caesar salad is free of croutons. But he doesn't know who I am, he doesn’t recognize me.
My job at Mocha Coffees is only my day job. It's at night that I see Eli in a completely different light. In the way I remember him.
When he walks into the nightclub where I work the bar, that's when he's in his element. Dressed in dark jeans and a smart dress shirt, he still looks as well put together as he does in the daylight hours, the only difference is what he's drinking, and the entertainment he enjoys.
Beautiful women flock to him while he sits at the bar. Out of all the hundreds of plastic Barbie dolls that drape themselves over him, he'll choose one to take home. I've heard stories about his dungeon. I've also heard about his penchant for rope, pain, and choking.
“Good morning, Giana.”
The deep rumble of his voice is enough to have my panties wet. Glancing up, I find the man in question standing before me with a smirk on his face. “Good morning. The usual?” He nods, then drops those golden eyes to his phone. As I make the Americano, I steal glances at his fingers, remembering how they felt pleasuring me.
Clearing my throat, I set the cup down. “Thank you.” Another smirk. He offers me the note and grabs the mu
g. “Keep the change.” With that, he leaves me staring at his beautiful form. One day, Mr. Draydon. One day soon.
Elijah
“Eli, you can’t spend your life grieving. Find someone new. Move on.” Her imploring gaze haunts me. Her eyes, that used to shine with life, with love, are now a faded gray. Her hand is cold, ice to my warm touch.
“I love you. You’ll always be in my heart. Why would I give it to someone else?” It’s the same conversation we have over and over again. We run in circles. We’ve been doing it for six months of her being in here. She forgets so easily these days. Sometimes, she’ll look at me and I know she doesn’t even recognize me.
As we turn the corner, I notice her again. A young girl. She can’t be more than seventeen with golden skin, and her big brown eyes seem empty. Almost as if she’s lost all will to live. It’s sad to see someone so young already so haunted by life.
“Look at her Eli,” my sweet wife whispers, her throat closing up with emotion as she points out the girl I’ve been blatantly staring at. “Isn’t she just beautiful?” Her voice is almost faraway but I nod to appease her. I don’t want to let her know I can see what she’s doing. I’m way too old for starting over, too broken to find someone for love, but perhaps I can fix her. Make her feel again. Light up her dull brown eyes.
“She’s lovely,” I respond to my wife.
“Why don’t you talk to her? You’re so good with people.”
I don’t reply. It hurts that she’s palming me off on someone else and she’s not even dead yet. The thought grips my chest painfully. Agony slices through me, and I find it difficult to breathe.
“Don’t be silly. She’s just a girl.” And even though I want to go to the girl, to talk to her, to hear what she sounds like, I don’t. Raquel knows my need. She’s been through it all. Seen me when the craving took over. The hunger. The lust. And even now, as her life drains from her body, she’s still my submissive. My toy. Doing what any good slave would do, making sure that once she’s no longer here, that I’ll move on without regret.
I sit beside my wife under the hot sun and wonder where my life is about to lead when she takes her last breath. I don’t know. Acceptance is not in my blood, not when I have to come to terms with losing the one woman who broke me as much as I broke her. And in those pieces, we found completeness.
* * *
The door to my office opens, dragging me from the memory. When I glance at the little woman who’s just walked in, I find myself wanting to lose my shit, but I sit back and wait.
“Daddy,” she utters in that syrupy sweet tone, but I shrug it off. When I shove the photo over the desk to her, she blanches, all that makeup couldn’t cover up her guilt. “I-I…” Her wide eyes flit between me and the photo she sent Oliver.
“What the fuck did you think would happen if you acted like a slut?” Growling, I slam my fist on the desk, sending a loud echo through the room.
“I didn't mean—”
“Like fuck you didn’t mean to. You spread your fucking legs for that asshole? Was I not good enough anymore?” The rage in my tone is palpable. This little whore thinks she can use me. Thought I wouldn't find out she's fucking my partner, calling him Daddy too.
“Daddy, please?”
Her pleading only serves to piss me off further. “You've lost the privilege of calling me that. Pack your shit and get out.”
Big doe eyes, glistening with tears, peek at me under dark lashes. She knows better than to argue. Rising from the chair, she heads to the door. It's almost time to go home so she can fuck right off and never come back.
As soon as the door clicks closed, I sit back and realize I've just lost a toy I was enjoying. Her love of rope was intoxicatingly sexy. When I choked her long, slender neck, her cunt would squeeze my dick so hard I would come instantly.
Sins are evil. They taunt us, bringing us to the point of madness, leaving only shells behind. An empty carcass of the person they devoured. Mine? Lust. Sinful, vengeful, and driven by desire. Even though I play with many toys at a time, I don’t consider it cheating; it’s merely filling that void left by the one woman who I was meant to spend forever with.
“Eli,” the rumble of my partner, and best friend of thirty-odd years drags my attention away from sending my toy away. The one who worked for me, my fucking assistant who I could order to suck my dick at any point I needed it. “Did you just fire Brie?”
“Yeah.”
“Any reason why?” he questions, knowing full well why I did it.
Lifting my gaze, I pin him with an incredulous stare. “Do you really want me to get into this with you right now?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You were fucking her behind my back and you're asking why I'm firing her? Look in the mirror, smart ass. You could have afforded me with asking permission.”
He looks at me guiltily, but immediately shakes it off as only my best friend would. We’ve known each other far too long to let a piece of ass get in the way. Oliver is someone I respect, admire, and ultimately, he’s like a brother to me. He is however, very different than me. A sadist who enjoys doling out punishments and pain. He also has a penchant for both sexes. Males and females fall over themselves to kneel for him.
“Her cunt was hot and tight. What can I say?” he says, shrugging and stepping further into my office.
“I know it was, that’s why I kept her in the office,” I confess easily, earning me a chuckle.
“Look, I didn't know you had feelings for her,” he retorts with an arched questioning eyebrow.
I don’t do feelings. I play. I use. I taunt and tease. There’s nothing outside of that world. I’d given up on love when I lost my wife. There was only one girl who ever gave me a run for my money on that, and I walked away from her. When I left her in that room, I told myself she didn’t want me and I forced myself to believe it. In my mind, I was convinced she used me as much as I did her. It was easy to push people away. For me to spend my time alone, detached.
Pushing off the chair, I head to the bourbon cabinet. I call it that because it’s the only alcohol I keep in my office. My father once told me businessmen conduct better meetings over a shot of whiskey. The crystal tumblers I set down on the counter glisten in the dimly lit office. It’s past working hours, and as the sun settles on the horizon, I wonder if it would be a good idea to visit Seven Sins tonight. I pour two shots of the Michter’s Celebration Sour Mash I bought a month ago. It’s one of my favorites, and I savor each and every drop. When I hand one to Oliver, he glances at the bottle and nods thanks.
“Did you want to head down to Seven Sins with me?” I question, before taking a long sip of the thick, decadent liquid. It burns its way down my gullet like a silky poison.
“Do you want to share a tight little slut? Or are you wanting one for yourself?” he counters before downing the drink in one easy gulp, and pouring himself a second shot.
“Let's find one to share. I want an innocent. One who's not in the pool. Someone we can corrupt and defile.” My mouth curls into a dark and sinful smile; that’s what I heard one of my toys at the club once tell her friend about my lips.
He nods, an evil smirk on his face, and I know my best friend will be up for a fun night. “Meet you at eight,” he grunts, downing the three fingers of whiskey easily without even a wince. Pushing off the chair, he leaves me in my office to let my mind roam over what we’re going to do tonight.
It’s no secret in the club that we’re up for sharing, hell, we’re notorious for it. What’s got me even more excited is knowing I’ll see her tonight. The pretty brunette with those soulful eyes. Deep and endless pools of brown that simmer with desire. I am reminded of the girl I left long ago. I should have taken her with me. But in my grief, I walked away and now I regret it.
I may not be able to go back in time, but deep down all I can do is hope she’s okay. That she found her way in life. Sighing, I know I need to focus on the present and leave the past behind me. The brunette, Giana,
is on my mind as I leave my office. I wonder if she’ll want to be owned and used.
“Hello, Eli.” Her voice is sultry and sensual as usual. My sweet intoxicating beauty from the coffee shop smiles at me with those pretty brown eyes that seem to beg me to take her. She just turned twenty-three. I overheard her telling her friend about the party she had.
Her appearance here in the club is vastly different to her little coffee shop outfit. “Hello, Giana.” My tone is low as I lean in and pin her with a gaze. She blushes furiously. “I’ll have a bourbon, make it a double. It’s been a long day.” She nods as I settle on the stool at the bar. The low beat of the music thrums through my chest and the haunting voice of Marilyn Manson comes through the speakers. Sweet Dreams are definitely what I’d like to give little Giana. A deep bass vibrates through the club as the curtain opens, and I’m met with a blonde toy bound to a pole on the stage.
As her Dom walks onto the platform, Giana sets the glass down on the bar beside my arm. “Here you go, I’ve poured you a triple since you said it’s been a long day.” Turning to regard the woman who’s clearly gripped my attention, I offer her a thankful smirk. The crystal tumbler glints under the low lights, but my gaze is locked on the beauty before me. I wonder how she'd look writhing between Oliver and I while calling me Daddy and him Sir. As much as I love sharing a beautiful girl with my best friend, something about this toy makes me territorial.
