Page 49 of Satan's Naughty List
He knows.
“What were you doing in the closet, boy?” He quizzes, slowly standing and straightening his suit jacket. I debate between telling the truth and lying.
“He needed help finding a coat that was the right size. He’d forgotten his at home.” Lie it is.
Before I can even register what’s happening, he launches over the table.
“You lying slut,” he snarls, his open palm slamming against my cheek. My knees threaten to give way as my head swings to the side from the force. Stumbling backward, the backs of my knees meet the ridge of the other table, causing me to fall backward. “No son of mine will ever be in sin!”
“What sins, father?” I shout, pretending to be utterly clueless. Instead of doing anything, he removes his phone from his pocket.
“Fuck, your ass is so tight.” Kent’s voice echoes around us as my voice sounds around us in rapture. He recorded us having sex… “Shit, you feel so damn good. Fuck, fuck,” the recording keeps playing as my eyes slam shut in shame.
He stalks forward when the recording ends, crouching before me and wrapping his hands tightly around my throat.
“He is the devil who encompasses my son will be no longer!” He shouts, chanting it over and over again as my lungs stop getting air.
I claw against his hands with no purchase, Reaching up to his face, I dig my thumbs into his eyes. He rears back with a scream, giving me time to bolt. There’s no time to grab anything as I race out of the door.
“God will never forgive you! Don’t bring your unwashed sins back to this house!” He screams after me. Running at full speed, I don’t look back to see if he’s following me. That’s a risk I won’t take.
I don’t stop until my lungs feel as though they’re about to collapse from the exertion. Bending over, my world spins on its axis, struggling to get myself right again.
“Woah, you okay?” A deep voice draws. Bolting up right, I take a single step back, ready to start going again. A few large men stand there, arms crossed over their chests. We assess each other, trying to determine if either of us are threats.
“I…” I pause, looking around.
“There’s no need to lie if you’re not okay. Come on, let’s go to the diner down the road.” Father and I are extremely secluded in the mountains, so the fact that I made it this far means I’d been running for a while. A stirring in my gut is the only reason my legs start moving toward them. An air of safety oozes from them, a sense of security.
“My name is Rodger Sinclair. This is Nomad, one of the prospects we’ve taken under our wing, and Widower, my daughter.” Widower is a short girl, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’d kick my ass. Nomad on the other hand…he looks like God's gift to women. Tall with short stubble curving his jaw. The man is a freaking statue.
Rodger must notice because he smirks. “Nomad can give you a ride, right kid?” He looks over at the man in question, his brow raised as a warning.
“Sure,” he grunts, turning toward me again. His eyes are steel blue and hard. “You ever ridden before?”
“No,” I mutter, embarrassment creeping in my bones. A flush goes from my neck to my ears, the heat radiating. He barks a quick laugh.
“Climb on behind me and hold on,” he says, starting the bike and straddling the seat. I clamber onto it, keeping my hands on his shoulders. Almost like an act of frustration, he jumps the bike forward a bit. My body instinctively lurches to hang onto the burly man. Another core hardening laugh releases from him as I let go of a small smirk.
“You can take the stick out of your ass. You’re safe with us,” he says gently, looking over his shoulder. Before I can reply, Rodger takes off with Widower following in his wake. Nomad surges forward behind the string of bikes.
A sudden heady feeling of exhilaration takes over my senses, my eyes and cheeks are burning from the smile I’m sporting. Even my crotch is starting to stir in anticipation.
I think back to Kent, my boyfriend who wasn’t out of the closet yet either. Both coming from distinguished families, it would put them to shame. I can’t think about him right now. We both knew it wouldn’t last. Plus, he said that we weren’t really dating, that we were just friends with benefits. I was the hopeful one.
My perfectly styled hair is suddenly mussed up as he speeds up even more to catch up with the others. Letting out a shout of happiness, the sun clashes against my pale tone. It’s a warm day out, one that needs to be cherished instead of isolated inside a stuff house.
He slows down, dipping into a small drive at the backroads diner. Letting me off, I work to not burn myself on the piping hot pipes. He chuckles as my odd hobble before kicking himself over the bike.
We lock eyes for a moment, something deep passing behind his gaze before a throat clears. Rodger stands there with a knowing smirk and a thick gray brow raised. Another deep flush takes over my face as I try to dip my head and hide. A frilly giggle sounds, forcing me to snap up at the sound. Widower, the daughter, has her hands placed on her hips sassily.
“You coming?” She asks, putting a double meaning behind her words. More laughter filters the small parking lot as Nomad throws an arm over my shoulders and leads us inside.
“What are you having?” He asks quietly, gazing down at the menu.
“Uhm, I didn’t bring any money, so I’ll just have water.”
“Nonsense. Eat.” Rodger orders. He doesn’t look up at all.
