Page 49 of Psycho

Declan let out a strangled noise, and I knew it meant he was about to come. I didn’t pull my mouth off his cock, I simply let him empty into me, shooting his seed down my throat. I took everything he gave me, let him jerk his hips and push himself deeper into me as if he was burying himself in my vagina and not my mouth. The fingers in my hair loosened, and it was only after he slowly pulled himself out that I was able to swallow the rest of the salty, warm liquid in my mouth.

His cheeks were flushed as I got up, wiping the edges of my mouth as I gave him a grin. Would he ever not get embarrassed? He was just too damn cute, even as he hurried to put himself away.

While Declan was busy zipping up his jeans, I turned to Will, taking two steps towards him. I held my hands behind my back, glancing down at his crotch and the bulge of his cock before asking, “How was it? Watching, I mean.” Another step closer to him. My core burned with a need to know what Will felt like, but I knew now wasn’t the time for that. We were out in the woods. Call me old-fashioned, but I didn’t want our first time to be in the woods.

“I think you can see how it was,” Will replied, tilting his head down to me. We were still a few feet apart, but I closed the distance between us, tossing a glimpse over my shoulder at Declan.

“Should I help your brother, or let him suffer?” I asked Declan.

Declan’s dark gaze locked with mine, and even though the world around us inched toward the darkness, I could see his cheeks were still adorably flushed. “Help him.” Two simple words, two words that meant a lot more than their face value.

“Looks like your lucky night,” I told Will, giving him a smile. Again, I sunk to my knees, this time before Will. Two blow jobs in the span of ten minutes. Could my jaw handle that? I was about to find out.

Will kept his hands in his pockets as I helped him out of his jeans, but now that I was closer, I could see that they were balled into fists. Stopping himself from grabbing me? He didn’t seem too hesitant earlier in his room, but maybe he didn’t want to seem overzealous with Declan here, watching. Before, when Declan had arrived, it’d been an accident; we hadn’t known he was there or how long he’d watched us make-out.

Though he kept his hands in his pockets, he was not stone silent as I took him into my mouth. His wide chest let out a low grown, and it was a sound I felt in my core. A sound I craved to hear more of. My head moved back and forth as I sucked him off. By the time I was done here, I’d crave something else—namely sex—but I was firm in my no woods decision.

Will must’ve been intensely turned on by watching Declan go at me, and then me on my knees before his brother, because it didn’t take long at all for him to erupt. When his orgasm came, his knees locked straight and he groaned out a loud, earth-shattering sound that only made my heart beat faster. His load shot right on my tongue, so I tasted him much more than I tasted Declan.

Maybe I was just horny, but it wasn’t a bad taste.

Not that I would eat a full meal made of his cum, but you knew what I meant. Or maybe you didn’t. Whatever.

Once I was back on my feet, all the penises put away, I wiped my hands together after dusting off the dirt on my knees—that would be a dead giveaway to Dean Briggs as to what we all did while gone. “So,” I broke the silence of the night, “who’s up for round two?” Both of them stared at me, mouths slightly agape.

What? I was kidding.

Mostly.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Sawyer

Being back here, with Travis acting like he was my friend, was rough. It was rougher than I anticipated, and I thought, after these last few weeks, I was ready for it. I wasn’t. There were certain things you just couldn’t prepare yourself for, like going home to your parents who pretty much hated you because you were a constant disappointment to them.

My parents were…not the kind of people most other people could get along with. They weren’t just rich. They were snooty, and they thought their opinions mattered more than anyone else’s.

Our Thanksgiving meal was later—and by meal, I meant the not-so-home cooked meals my mother hired actual chefs to make. Travis and I usually remained apart, always finding an excuse to tell my parents as to why we weren’t hanging out together.

They…they still didn’t change her room. Sabrina’s room was the same, and it was two hours before our dinner was slated to start that I happened to walk by and spot Travis in it. Instantly I grew annoyed, and I stormed into the room, ready to throw it down with him. He was with Ash now, wasn’t he? Why the hell was he in my dead sister’s room?

“What are you doing in here?” I asked, causing his blue-eyed stare to snap in my direction. He sat at her desk, the drawers open. He looked innocent, even though I’d caught his hands right in the cookie jar. When he said nothing, I added sternly, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

None of us should be in here. This place, full of stuffed animals and other things girls had in their rooms—though everything in here was more expensive, the stuffed animals practically life-sized—held too many memories. The room still smelled like her, as weird as it was. A part of me expected to turn around and find her sitting cross-legged on her bed, her thumbs furiously typing away on her phone as she texted one of her ten best friends.

Travis glanced at the open door, and he spoke softly, quietly so no one else could hear if they happened to walk by, “I’m looking for her second diary.” Before I could ask just why the hell he was searching for that particular object, he added, “Ash wants it.”

Ash wanted it? I had no idea why. A part of me wanted to ask, but then a bigger part of me didn’t. Whatever Ash did was none of my business. She wasn’t mine. She…she should keep her nose out of this and focus on her crazy fucking ex.

“Even though she has other things to worry about, she wants to figure out what happened to Sabrina,” Travis went on, sending me a frown. “For you, I think. She wants to help you, even though you’ve done nothing but fuck with her from day one.”

My eyebrows came together, and I could do nothing, could say nothing. All I managed to do was shake my head, turn on my heel and walk out, leaving Travis to his own devices. If Sabrina’s journal was in there, he would’ve found it by now. My parents tore apart her room after they found her, and they found no clues. No diaries. They just assumed she had good hiding spots, but now…

Now I started to wonder if someone had taken them—and if someone had taken them, how did they get them? How did they get in the house? If someone had them, they had them before she died.

That, or they took them immediately after hanging her.

The absolute last thing I needed right now was to lose myself in more conspiracies, but as I walked through the house, I couldn’t think of anything else. It was like I had a one-track mind, like I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

Something had been off this entire time, but I was too blinded by rage, by soul-crushing sorrow, to see it. I had to see it again.

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