She felt the cold metal bite into her skin. As her hands tugged on the restraints, the tug in her abdomen had her thighs clenching together in agony. It never lessened the ache.

A rough tickle smoothed across her stomach. The leather burned against her body; anticipation causing goosebumps to dot her naked skin. Sweat dribbled down her cleavage.

Then, just as she felt the leather travel to the dripping place between her legs, a pair of lips grazed her ear.

"Beg me."

Jolting awake, Cara flipped her eyes open as her alarm started beeping. Heart pounding and throat dry, she quickly sat up and turned it off.

She gulped in a breath and kicked off her covers, sweat covering her body. She was burning up, parched, and reached for her glass of water on her bedside table, taking down five large gulps.

Her cheeks felt red as she relived her dream. The same kind she had been having on and off for years. They were always different, but always followed the same theme and always ended before she found out what was happening or who was talking to her. It was confusing and scary. Every time she woke up bathed in sweat, feeling hot all over, heart racing. It couldn't be normal, could it?

"Cara! Breakfast is on the table!"

She jumped when she heard her mother's voice. Quickly taking a breath and calming herself down, she called back. "Be right down!"

She went into the bathroom and tied up her hair. Splashing a handful of cold water into her face, she cooled herself down and took a deep breath to soothe herself.

It was going to be just fine. Some people just had stranger dreams than others. That didn't mean they had to mean anything. They were just dreams; obscure imaginations of her subconscious mind.

Putting on her clothes, Cara walked out of her bedroom and went downstairs to join her family for breakfast. She found them gathered around the table, her mother setting the last of the scrambled eggs on the table in a bowl.

"Good morning," Cara smiled and leaned down to kiss her father on his cheek. He gave a smile back and patted her arm.

"Morning, sweetpea. Slept well?"

Her cheeks reddened, but she pushed past it. "Yeah, and you?"

"Like a rock."

"He was snoring like a bear all night," Her mom chimed in, shaking her head while her father chuckled. "We need to get you some of those nose strips if you want to continue sleeping next to me, Harry Thompson."

"Yes, ma'am," He replied with a little chuckle, then reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Cara smiled at her parents, loving their playful banter. 23 years of marriage and they could still tolerate each other. You couldn't say that about most couples these days. She considered herself lucky to have had such great role models growing up.

Her mother huffed a little, but then sighed and looked across the table as an animated sound started playing. "Sam, put that away. I've told you multiple times, no electronics at the table."

Sam, Cara's younger brother, rolled his eyes and turned off his gameboy. Cara smiled at him, then reached for his hand, just as her parents joined hands as well; they all lowered their heads and closed their eyes.

"Dear Lord," Her father spoke. "We thank You for this blessed meal You have given us. We thank You for the roof over our head, for the fortune in our life and for the love we've been given. Bless this food in the name of our savior, Jesus Christ. Amen."

"Amen," They all echoed.

Cara drew the holy cross over her chest. They then all dug into the food as her mother started dishing onto their plates generously.

"Oh, don't forget, we have cousin Anna-Camille's confirmation later today," Her mother told her, looking at Cara while she buttered some toast. "I'm coming to pick you up around 2. Did you clear it with your boss like we asked you to?"

"Yes, I made sure to switch my shifts last week. Alistair's informed that I'm leaving earlier today."

"Alright, be sure to be ready before 2pm then. If we're late, we're going to hit traffic and—"

"I promise I'll be on time."

Nodding resolutely, her mother let her eat her breakfast in peace. They all continued eating, talking back and forth about several topics. Sam was graduating High School soon and they were discussing good colleges. Mom was trying to get him to apply to B.U because it was closer to home and had great programs, but Sam said he wanted to apply somewhere in the eastern coast.

Cara's couldn't concentrate on their voices, though. She zoned out when she couldn't stop thinking about her reoccurring dreams. Was God trying to speak to her through her subconscious, and if so, what message was he trying to convey?

Only time would tell.

~~~

"Sir, if you could just wait a—"

"No, I've waited for 45 minutes! I was promised a table three times within that time, so if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with your maître d', please."

"Alright," Sighing, Cara bit the inside of her cheek, then nodded at the customer. "Just a moment then, please."

She turned around and left the disgruntled customer at the waiting sign and begun walking into the restaurant. It was one of the more high-end places in this part of town, which meant getting a table could be difficult unless you had connections. The customer clearly did not, but seemed to think it was the staff's fault. But the customer was always right.

Walking for the cocktail bar, Cara leaned in and flagged down one of the bartenders. "Joanie? You seen Alistair?"

Joan looked up from mixing a mimosa and shot her a look. "I think he's with one of the customers. Table 13."

"Thank you!" Cara immediately steered herself through the restaurant, passing by the numbered tables and smiling politely to the dining customers. Finally, she laid eyes on table 13. Alistair, the owner of the restaurant and her boss, was sitting at the table across from a suited man and looked to be deep in a serious conversation.

Cara came to a slow halt when she suddenly felt a strange pull in her stomach. As her eyes fell to the man Alistair was talking to, a warm sensation crept through her body - an inexplicable heat pulsing through her veins. It started spreading inside her like a quiet fire, but then, just as the man in front of her shifted and turned his head, she was paralyzed.

His hair was blacker than ink and his jaw was more angular than a set square. His lips could've been the origins of where the Cupid's bow got its name from and his cheekbones could've been used as alternative cutting tools. With a broad, muscular body dressed in a tailored black suit, he looked edible and most certainly appeared out of place in the earthly-colored surroundings of the restaurant.

He had the face of an angel, but everything about him screamed devil.

Cara gaped. Staring with an open mouth, she did a double take when she thought she had seen wrong, but no; His eyes gleamed in a hypnotic yellow hue that shone in an almost electrical fashion. They were the most hauntingly beautiful orbs she had ever seen—the eyes of a dangerous monster in disguise. Clad in Armani.

They had to be contacts, she thought, staring amazed at them. Nobody had natural eyes like that. They had to be colored lenses, somehow triggered to glow in the fluorescent lighting of the restaurant. There was no other explanation.

Swallowing, but then forcing her body to move, Cara slowly walked up to the table. With each step she came closer, the air got a little harder to breathe. A tension so thick and so heady enveloped her, so much so she started to feel lightheaded - as if the man had a compelling aura around him. She tried to remain calm, even though she didn't understand what was happening to her body, she approached the table and stopped up carefully when she was right in front of them.

"E-excuse me, Sir?"

Alistair was in the middle of a sentence, but cut himself off at the sound of her voice. He glared up at her, his eyes flashing with warning. "Not now, Cara. Whatever it is, handle it yourself."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but there's this customer and he's insisting that—"

"Tell him to piss off!"

Cara took a step back. Granted, Alistair was known for his short fuse, but she had never heard or seen him so agitated before.

"I'm sorry," She cautiously said, watching him grit his teeth. "I'll just tell him you're busy with another customer..."

"Do that."

Her eyes flickered to the man sitting across from her boss and saw that his lips had twitched into a smirk. Seemingly amused about the fact that he was causing trouble, he calmly lifted his cup of espresso to his lips and sipped it. For some reason, that pissed Cara off.

"Unless of course, Mr..." She glanced down at the reservation card on his table and read the name, "Peccatori wouldn't mind waiting a moment—"

Suddenly the man, Mr Peccatori, moved, and it happened so smoothly she hardly even saw it; His hand curled around her wrist and gripped it lightly. His fore- and middle finger placed itself over her pulse and, almost immediately, Cara's blood began rushing through her veins.

She gasped loudly and something akin to a moan slipped past her lips when she abruptly felt something tightening deliciously in her stomach. Her legs started trembling and she tried to move, to run, but found herself trapped to her spot, held captivated by the stranger's delicate touch that barely touched her. What was happening to her? She couldn't breathe...

"No, fuck, no," Alistair cursed from the other side of the table and ran a shaking hand through his hair when Cara started panting, which only seemed to amuse Mr Peccatori even more. "Sin, please, not her. She's innocent."

"Innocent...?" Mr Peccatori, or Sin, as Alistair had called him, calmly asked. He had the smoothest, most hypnotic voice Cara had ever heard. It was as if the vibrato of it carried through his touch and into her arm, stirring her very soul that was already quivering. She bit her lip to strangle the moan in her throat.

"Yes, innocent," Her boss repeated. "Let her go."

"Are you telling me what to do, Alistair?"

Alistair's face paled. "No! God no, I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that she's just doing her job, so please don't harm her."

Cara couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could hardly think. All that man was doing was holding her wrist lightly in his hand, yet Cara was nailed to the spot, unable to flex a single muscle. Her body was tingling with something euphoric which almost made her drop to her knees. What was happening?! The sensation inside her... it felt... oh, God.

Sin lifted his eyes to her. His lips curved in a slow, devilish smile, as if reading the thoughts in her head through her pleading eyes. Then, with a little purse of his mouth, he softly let her go. "Very well then."

Cara gasped and wobbled on her legs and gripped on to the table not to collapse as she was freed from his touch; Just as quickly as he had grabbed her, just as quickly did the sensation inside her disappear. Her body thrummed gently with aftershocks, but the sinful tug in her lower abdomen was gone. The one she couldn't explain in the first place.

She couldn't stop shaking.

"You have two days," The man then said and turned his head to Alistair. He folded his napkin and calmly stood up, rising to an impressive height that dwarfed her. "Fail, and you'll be at my mercy."

Alistair's face paled even more. Mouth hanging half open, he simply watched as Mr Peccatori then serenely buttoned his suit and turned to Cara who was still trying to regain normal function of her body. He did a slow take down her body, taking in every trembling inch of her flushed body with absolutely no shame in his tempting eyes.

"Pleasure meeting you... Cara." He then smiled, crookedly. Devilishly. And then with nothing more, he turned and left.

Cara glared in complete stun, but then blew out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She finally got herself straightened out and turned to glare after him as he peacefully walked out, strolling out of the restaurant and up to a black car that held parked outside by the pavement. He got in to the passenger side of the vehicle and then drove off.

"Who the hell was that?" She managed to spit out. She couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Shit, Cara. I told you to leave." Alistair barked, standing up as well. "Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into?"

"I..." She struggled for words, but came up mute. Alistair looked at her as if he could kill her.

"If you ever interrupt me again, I'll do so much worse than just fire you, you hear me?" Shocked, Cara widened her eyes and looked up at her boss who glared down at her with furious eyes. "Get the fuck back to work. Don't talk to me, and don't talk to anyone about what you just saw, understood?"

Shakily, and because she still couldn't speak, Cara nodded and then hastily stepped back when Alistair brushed past her with long strides. He stalked through the restaurant, behind the bar, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Cara had no idea what had just happened, but she knew it hadn't been normal. Every pore in her body had felt alive when that man had touched her. She had felt things—thought things she had never thought about before in her life until he touched her. It was as if his touch had been a channel to everything sinful, and with just one touch, she was transported.

Feeling a chill run through her, she tried to shake it off. She didn't know what she had just gotten herself into as Alistair had put it, but she had learned her lesson and chose to take his advice this time; She gathered herself, smoothed down her apron and then tried to will her mind to forget what had happened and focus on work instead.

But Cara had barely taken a step before she realized that that became impossible. Feeling a sensation that horrified her, she ran to the bathroom hurriedly and locked the door, closing herself inside for privacy. Pulling down her skirt and looking down, a shiver of something dark ran down her spine.

Her panties were drenched in sin.

• • •

Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'sinful touch.'