Page 27 of Maison De Fous

The leader’s hand freezes before it slides off her waist. Good. His eyes widen behind his mask, darting between Lux and I, as his attention turns to us. It’s clear he knows something is wrong—very fucking wrong. But he has no idea just how fucked he and his little friends are.

Before he can blink, I grab the closest one, yanking him by the collar and slamming his face into the edge of the wooden bar. The crunch of bone breaking is fucking music to my ears. His unconscious body crumples to the floor, twitching as blood pours from his shattered nose.

One down.

Lux doesn’t even hesitate. Towering over the guy by at least two feet, he moves with that calm, methodical precision that makes the fucking air feel electric. His fingers clamp down on the man’s wrist, twisting it with a sickeningcrackthat echoes through the tent. The guy lets out a scream—pathetic, high-pitched, like a wounded animal. Lux pulls a small blade from his pocket, the metal gleaming under the dim lights as he rips the guys mask off his head, tossing it to the ground behind him. Without a word, he drags the knife across the man’s face, slow and deliberate, peeling the skin away in one grotesque, fluid motion.

The guy’s screams become something unholy, piercing the air around the big top as blood pours down his neck. The crowd watches, wide-eyed behind their masks, captivated by thebrutality of our leader, but no one steps in. They know better. Lux doesn’t rush, doesn’t even blink as he works, wearing the poor fucks agony like a badge of honor. When the skin finally comes free, slick and dripping, Lux stretches it over his own face, smoothing it down like it belongs there.

He turns to the crowd, now wearing that twisted, bloody mask with his arms spread wide. The sight of him, his eyes gleaming through another man’s face, is both horrifying and fucking magnetic. Lux stands there, a living goddamn nightmare, and I can’t help but grin.

Fuck yeah. This is what we do.

And then there’s the leader—the one who thought he could put his hands on Indie. The one who thought he had power here and that he and his little friends could touch what doesn’t belong to them without repercussions.

Not here. Not in this fucking tent, and fucking neverher.

Lux reaches him first, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the bar.

“You dare to touch what doesn’t belong to you?” Lux’s voice is low, shaking with raw fury. “What everyone here knows belongs to me.”

The leader gasps, clawing at Lux’s hand, trying to pry himself free, but Lux tightens his grip, leaning in close, his lips curled into a snarl. “She’s just some bitch. I didn’t know she was special. I mean isn’t that the point of this event. ThisDark fucking Harvest? I thought everyone was fair game?”

Lux growls, his anger only growing with the idiots smart ass remarks about the purpose behind our event. The man’s eyes widen, panic setting in as Lux lifts him off the ground, his feet kicking uselessly beneath him.

I step closer, crouching in front of him, my blood stained fingers brushing his jaw as his breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. I tilt his head, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Look at her,”I whisper, my voice dripping with malice. “Lookat what you’ll never have.”

Indie moves toward him, her eyes locked on mine as she steps over the broken bodies of the other men. There’s something hungry in her gaze—something dark and possessive that sends a jolt of excitement through me.

Lux drops the man to the ground, and Indie wastes no time. She straddles him, her thighs pinning him in place as she lowers herself onto his face. She frantically unclips her bodysuit, her pussy pressing down on his blood stained mouth. He gurgles, crimson bubbles leaking from his lips as he tries—and fails—to breathe.

But Indie doesn’t care. She grinds against him, slow and deliberate, the man’s panicked eyes darting from me to Lux, then back to her as his life seeps away beneath her. He’s suffocating on her, his own blood filling his lungs as he struggles to catch even the faintest breath.

And Indie? Our Dark Queen—she’s loving every fucking second of it.

“Good girl,” Lux whispers, running his hand through her hair as her body moves, her hips undulating against the leader’s face. “Use him, Indie. Show him what he’s missing out on as his pathetic life slowly fades away.”

She glances up at Lux, her eyes flicking to me, then back to him. She doesn’t really need to ask—she’s always been a girl who knows what she wants, and yet, she respects Lux enough that there’s a brief silent question as her holds his stare.

Lux meets her gaze, his eyes smoldering behind the dead man’s skin, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. He gives her a nod—permission fucking granted. She can have whatever the hell she wants. Typical. Lux has never been a soft man, but for Indie, he’ll do just about anything.

And tonight, I’m fucking thankful for it.

Without hesitation, she reaches for my belt, her fingers deftly unfastening it as she wraps her tiny hand firmly around my cock and pulls it toward her. Her mouth is hot, and she’s greedy—so fucking greedy for me as she takes me in, her tongue swirling over the precum beading around the tip. Her lips wrapped tight around me as she continues to ride the piece of shit’s face. I watch, filled with envy for the piece of shit.What a way to go out.

Indie moans, the sound vibrating through her as she sucks my cock, taking it to the back of her throat, and fuck, it’s good. Her lips are soft and wet, gliding over my shaft as she savors every inch, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight as she looks up at me. But it’s not just me she wants.

Her hand moves to Lux, pulling him closer as she opens her mouth wide to take him in too, alternating between us with a seamless rhythm like the fucking goddess she is. Her hips continue their relentless grind against the dying man beneath her, the slickness of her movements mixing with his blood as she rides him harder. Using him to find the friction her body needs.

It’s a fucking beautiful sight.

His struggles are growing weaker, gurgled sounds escaping his throat, becoming quieter as his body trembles beneath her, suffocating on her tight cunt as he drowns in his own blood. Each gurgle is a melody of fucking despair, a haunting reminder of the power she holds over him and fuck it only makes me harder. Around us, the crowd is reveling in the violence, feeding off the bloodlust that fills the air like the scent of copper and sweat.

Indie’s moan is muffled, her mouth full of me, then Lux, and it’s the most intoxicating sound I’ve ever heard. She’s goddamn perfect like this—on her knees, her body slick with blood, taking us both while the man beneath her dies, knowing he’ll never, ever have what we do.

“Fuck, Indie,” Lux growls, his hand tangling in her hair as he thrusts into her mouth, his eyes locked on mine. “Look at her, Johnny. Look how good she is. How good her pretty little mouth takes us.” His voice is a low growl, thick with need, and the sight of her worshipping us like this sends a rush of heat through me.

I groan, my fingers tightening in her thick hair as she switches to me, taking me deep into her mouth. Her moans grow more frantic as her pleasure builds right alongside ours. “You love this, don’t you? You love watching us tear them apart, for you.” Her eyes meet mine, dark and filled with something primal, and the thrill of it sends my heart racing.

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