Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

One Week Ago

Kent Galion had it bad for the blonde.

With dark, sultry eyes she stared back at him down her long, elegant nose. And when she passed with a tray of drinks for the rowdy frat boys in the corner, she purposely brushed against him. He’d been watching her all night and they’d shared the secret look, eyes that whispered I want you .

What woman wouldn’t want Kent Galion? When he was labeled one of Los Angeles’s ten most eligible bachelors, they commented on his Midas touch and GQ good looks. At forty, he was fit and in his prime. He owned this club and more, the king of the West Side. Any of the staff would serve him in his bed or theirs, and often made that clear, but he rarely took any of them up on their offers. Two years ago he’d dated a sexy cocktail waitress, and that had ended up in a long-term business relationship. He still didn’t know why he’d let his dick lead him down that hazardous road-he’d put up most of the risk, but they were in business fifty/fifty. At least Wendy handled the day-to-day management that he detested. The arrangement had been a sore point between him and his younger brother, but Marcus had always been stuffy and conservative.

Kent glanced around the dark, trendy club but didn’t see Wendy. Where was she? She’d be able to satisfy this deep craving he had; there was nothing she said no to.

He’d always enjoyed women, but just lately his sexual appetite had been insatiable. It was like the good old days of being bad. He’d been hungering in ways he used to before he had responsibilities and a business empire to run. Still, he’d managed to resist the girls at the club until it had become impossible to avoid them. Two nights ago …

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He blocked the memory from his mind, certain it wasn’t as bad as he remembered. He’d tried calling Stephanie the morning after, but she wouldn’t answer her cell. And she hadn’t come in to work today. Maybe it was her night off. He didn’t concern himself with the staff schedule.

“Who’s the new girl?” Kent asked the bartender. He sipped his customary club soda and lime. Kent didn’t drink; alcohol made smart men stupid.

Ike glanced at the curvy blonde Kent had been coveting all night.

“Rachel Prince. She’s been here a couple months.”

Kent hadn’t seen her before, but then again he usually did the rounds only once a month. For some reason, this week he couldn’t seem to stay away from Velocity, his newest and most successful club.

Rachel smiled at Kent as she walked by on her way to the cash register. Ike leaned over. “She’s the type who’d love your money,” he warned.

“I like her ass.”

“Just saying.”

Kent had dealt with plenty of women who’d slept with him to get at his money. He’d had a vasectomy five years ago, so no one could trap him that way-he already had an ex-wife and two kids he paid plenty for. Fortunately, they were on the East Coast and he didn’t have to deal with them except to write a check every month. His ex had remarried, and the new guy was better than Kent had been at all that domestic bullshit.

Of course Rachel Prince wanted him. He was rich, and he owned the place where she worked. She would be grateful for his attention and would express that gratitude on her back, on her stomach, on her knees-any way he wanted it. His dick hardened and he shifted on the stool to relieve the pressure. It didn’t help.

Kent waited until Rachel took a break, then he walked to the back of the club and found her alone in the employee break room. Velocity staff had classy outfits-the females wore sexy black dresses that hinted at everything but showed nothing except a little cleavage. On Rachel, the short skirt revealed long, perfectly curved legs.

“Hello, Rachel,” he said. He could still feel the dance music’s beat throbbing from the front of the club.

“Hi, Mr. Galion.”

“Kent.”

She smiled, her brown eyes assessing him. She licked her painted red lips.

He’d come in here with the intention of asking her to come home with him tonight. But seeing her like this, alone, staring at him with blatant lust, she might as well have been wearing a sign that said FUCK ME NOW.

Kent broke out in a sweat. He stepped toward her. She stepped back. That irritated him. “Come here,” he said.

“I only have ten minutes. You shouldn’t be back here.”

“I own this place.”

“But this is the girls’ dressing room.”

He turned and locked the door. “I saw you looking at me.”

“I–I didn’t mean to.”

Why was she acting nervous? This was all set up earlier when their eyes first met, silently agreeing to rough-and-ready sex. The thought that he’d have to wait to satisfy this burning pained him. His head ached. He didn’t want to wait; no dancing around the table in the ridiculous game women insisted on playing. It would happen here; it would happen now.

He moved fast and grabbed her, harder than he meant to. “You agreed.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Let me go. Please.” She wasn’t shouting or pushing him away. They were just words; they meant nothing.

He kissed her neck, one hand squeezing her breast. She tensed, and he pushed her against the wall. “I need you,” he whispered. He sucked her neck, remembering being a horny teenager giving hickies to every girl he screwed. He’d branded them, shown everyone the sluts they were.

“Stop! Please stop.” Was Rachel crying? He didn’t want to look.

She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t want this .

Kent’s head pounded. He pictured another blonde, Stephanie, sobbing. Saw the bruises.

Where was Stephanie?

You killed her, asshole .

“No!” He moaned, gripping the woman with his fists, trying to block the memory.

Rachel thought he was talking to her, that he wasn’t going to stop, and she stammered something he couldn’t understand. He had to stop. This wasn’t right. He didn’t need to force himself on any woman; they came to him willingly. He’d never forced himself …

Stephanie. You raped her and killed her .

Stephanie had come home with him voluntarily. She’d wanted him to fuck her. Wanted him …

She didn’t want you to tie her down. She didn’t want to be manhandled. She begged you to stop .

He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He had to tie her down or she would have run away.

You killed her .

Stephanie’s dead green eyes stared at him.

You killed me .

He shook his head as Rachel opened her mouth to scream. He covered her mouth with his hand. “I don’t want to do this, please, help me, I need you!” His heart raced and he grabbed her dress, pulling it down to see her breasts. One popped free and he bit into it, her taste exotic.

She kneed him in the balls and he went down on his knees, rage building that she would hurt him, that she would deny him, that he wouldn’t be able to satisfy this painful craving. He would die if he didn’t fuck her. He would die.

Rachel ran to the door, shouting, but the walls were thick. No one heard her over the deafening music. She fumbled with the doorknob. He’d locked the door. It gave him time to grab her.

She spun away from his grasp.

Let her go, let her go!

She stumbled toward the back door, the employee entrance. Pushed it open.

Get her!

Kent chased after her, caught her in the alley, and pushed her against the wall with such violence that she lost her balance and fell to the ground.