Page 64 of Bloodmoon Ritual

His lips were on my throat, his hand reaching up to cup my hair.

“You know why I tattooed the End of the World Serpent on you?” he asked as he thrust inside me. “Because you have the power to either save my world or end it. I want your fucking submission to me. I want your love sister.Now, godsdamnit.”

“Why?” I whimpered. “Why, Rhyder?” the cold mud was seeping through my skin, smearing across my mouth.

“Because you’re mine,” he said, his pace picking up painfully, and I winced as his cock slammed in and out of me. My legs ached from being held open.

His breath was harsh and loud, his hands pressing me painfully down into the dirt and mud as I tried to struggle away.

“Fuckingloveme, Temperance.”

I knew he wanted another orgasm out of me, but I felt wrung and sore and furiously cold and trapped.

He thrust harder, in a frenzy now, my face ground painfully into the dirt and I winced at his overpowering dominance, his cock punishing me for daring not to love him.

“Giveit to me.”

He felt explosive, unendurable, and I arched my back to try to take him, ease the pressure on my cunt and core, and he came hard inside me, his big hands gripping my hips so tightly I felt the ache of a new bruise on top of the old.

How the fuck could he have this much cum left?

It poured into me again, endless hot jets of it coating my insides with his obsession.

“I love you, sister,” he breathed in my ear as his cock pulsed inside me, his hands and mouth all over me.

But I turned away from him, resting my aching cheek on the cold mud of the forest floor.

The noise my brother emitted was more animal than man, low unearthly moan of pain, and his lips were on my hair again, suddenly noticing that hard roots and branches were digging into my face.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

I ignored him as he rolled off of me.

For a moment, he was on his knees breathing heavily.

Then he was scooping me into his arms again, clutching me to his chest.

“What happened?” he said. “Why did you keep it from me?”

I didn’t pretend not to know what he meant.

“It was only because of what they gave us to drink,” I said dully.

My skin stung from him, cunt aching from how much and how hard he had taken me. I tried to struggle to my feet, my brother’s arms instantly around my waist, helping me up.

“Get away from me,” I said, and then I threw up on the ground, unpleasantly vivid and nauseating from the drug.

Rhyder held my hair as I vomited, and I felt like I could have happily ripped his throat out.

But I felt weak and limp, and when I was done throwing up, he gathered me in his arms and moved through the silent trees.

I was asleep by the time he stopped for a few hours’ rest, his big arms pulling me tight against his chest, his smell filling my nostrils, old leather and the raw masculine musk.

It was cruel but familiar and I fell asleep, cradled in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered again in my ear. “I love you so much, sister.”

I said nothing, my vocal cords feeling frozen.

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