“I get it.” Kurt clicked his tongue. “They say comparison is the thief of joy.”
Whatever Blondie’s response was, Sabrina missed it. She got distracted by the very obvious noises coming from the little room at the far end of the space.
It was walled off from the rest of the open floor—the old manager’s office, maybe?—but the door that had once kept the area private had fallen off its hinges. Now, it simply leaned against the outer wall, partially covering its old doorframe, partially leaving the entrance wide open.
Through the breach, she heard the slap, slap, slap of flesh meeting flesh. It was a sickly rhythm. Primal. Cruel. Her brain rejected the sounds even as her ears betrayed her and picked up a man’s animalistic grunts and a woman’s moans of encouragement.
Dear god. In the middle of all this filth, the Banshee and the one they call Hummer are fucking.
Bile burned up Sabrina’s throat to sit bitterly on the back of her tongue.
Her revulsion must’ve been apparent because Kurt, the little troll, sauntered over and gripped her shoulder. She could feel the imprint of all five of his fingers, and his touch made her skin want to crawl off her body.
“You like the sound of that?” His nasally voice was wet with glee as he rubbed the bulge behind his zipper. “I can oblige you with some of the same.”
“Cut it out,” Blondie snapped, still checking weapons. “We’re supposed to be getting ready.”
“We’re ready.” Kurt stepped closer to Sabrina, his crotch inches from her face. “Why should Black Widow and Hummer get to have all the fun?”
Black Widow…
So that’s what they call the Banshee.
Perfect name, Sabrina decided. The platinum blonde used sex as a weapon, and Sabrina figured she’d also happily eat these men alive.
“Come on,” Kurt wheedled. “Look at her. A beaut. Shouldn’t we show her a good time… one last time?”
Sabrina wanted to use the only weapon she had at her disposal—her teeth—to rip off Kurt’s dick. But she knew the denim of his dark jeans would save him. She’d bruise him at best. And that simply wasn’t enough.
“Don’t you want to give her a go, Diesel?” Kurt cajoled. “Don’t you think you deserve to get some since that bitch”—he hitched his chin toward the small room where the sounds of sex grew louder, more frenzied—“won’t give you your fair share?”
Sabrina’s heart came to a screeching stop when the man who’d punched her and twisted her breast, the man dubbed Diesel, turned his crystalline eyes on her. They were as blue as an iceberg. And just as cold.
She wanted to shrink away from the brutality she recognized in him. But if he saw her fear, he’d feast on it like the monster he was.
Instead, she shoved it deep and met his chilling gaze head-on. Forcing herself not to be the first one to blink.
“Now, we’re talking,” Kurt chuckled. “I love a woman with some fight in her. Come on, boys. Let’s fuck every hole she’s got.”
He was still rubbing, rubbing, rubbing.
She could see his erection getting firmer, standing taller behind his fly. The sight made her stomach roil and made those old demons rise out of hell to scratch at her heart until she was bleeding out on the inside.
She knew the depravity of men like these. Knew how much pleasure they took in a woman’s helplessness and pain. But this time, she wasn’t going down without a fight. This time, she was going to get in her licks.
“You talk pretty big for being such a small fraction of a man,” she growled at Kurt.
The muscles of her stomach trembled. But not with fear. With fury. A hot, searing fury that made her flex her hands against her zip ties.
Her fingers ached for a weapon.
Or a throat.
Kurt stopped rubbing to stare at her. The acidic hate in his eyes scoured her brain like a chemical burn. But she just lifted her chin, pulled back her lips, and gave him her best sneer of disgust.
“You bitch.” He grabbed her jaw in a painful grip. “I’m going to fuck your ass bloody?—”
She braced herself, her spine locking tight and her vision tunneling.
