Page 12 of Legions

I let my gaze travel down her body. The one that belonged to me. And only me. “Your virginity,” I said.

“What does that mean?” she asked me, her eyes narrowing as mine met hers again.

“I asked you if you were a virgin, but I already knew the answer. I had kept boys from ever getting too close. Held back men who thought they had a chance of touching you. They weren’t worthy, and I protected you,” I paused a moment, the memory of the first time I’d sunk my dick into her tight, untouched cunt. “Until you wrapped those sweet fingers around my cock in the shower and asked to lick it. No man was worthy of your innocence, but I took it and made that cunt mine.”

I saw her breathing hitch, and my dick jerked in my pants, hardening from her flushed cheeks. Two more steps, and I could go to my knees and bury my nose in her pussy and smell. She’d be wet.

“Is that it?” her voice gave away her thoughts. My words, the memory of us fucking in the cabin I’d taken her to was making my little doll hot.

I took another step, and when she didn’t move, I closed the space and gripped her chin in my hand, tilting her head back. “Is that pussy wet?” I asked.

She tried to look stern, but the color of her face only grew a shade darker. Then she turned her head as if to break free of my hold. She was gonna make my cock explode with the feisty shit. My trigger was close. I felt the darkness creeping in, excited by her reaction to me. The willfulness that her red cheeks couldn’t mask.

“The boys that came into the ice cream shop,” she asked me then. Those eyes daring me to answer her truthfully. As if the truth would matter.

I tilted my head, my eyes dropping to her mouth. “He grabbed you. Scared you.”

“Yes,” she breathed out. I was fascinated with those lips. I ran my thumb over the bottom one, and my little doll shivered.

“They drove their car off a bridge,” I repeated what I knew she’d heard on the news all those years ago.

Her warm breath heated my skin.

“Did they?” she asked.

I smiled. “Yes, little doll. But they had some help.”

Her eyes closed, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Is it so bad that I will do anything to protect you?” I slid a hand between her legs and rubbed at her crotch, finding it damp. That’s right. That’s my girl.

“Thatcher, you can’t. I, the things you did, ah. “ Her hands grabbed my arms and held onto me as she continued. “Please, that’s not. I, you did things. People are hurt, dead.” The words were all pants.

“Mmmhmmm,” I agreed, bending down to nibble on her earlobe. “My demons, little doll. Not yours. Nothing is your fault,” I assured her, having to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. “Just mine. All mine. I’ll be better. If you’re with me. I’ll be better.” That could very well be a fucking lie, but I was willing to try. If it made her happy.

“The others,” she breathed.

“The past,” I said, slipping my palm down inside the front of her jeans until my middle finger brushed her clit.

“Oh god,” she moaned, leaning into me.

“That’s my sweet girl,” I praised her.

“Thatcher,” my name was a moan on her lips.

I lifted my eyes the moment I felt it. The prickling that we weren’t alone. My eyes locked on her father’s. His jaw tight, body rigid.

Smirking, I slid my hand out of her jeans, sucked my fingers clean, then bent down and scooped her up in my arms, careful to keep him from her line of sight, before walking into the woodswith what belonged to me.

Clark Jewel had crossed a line. I had promised Capri I’d be good. And I would be if he kept his distance. If he said one more word to her, then I would make sure that the pastor’s sins found him out.

• Eight •

I was lost in the unholy heaven that carried me.

Capri

There were several levels to my morals. I felt as if I had to battle multiple personalities demanding to take control of my actions because I was clinging to a man, with an ache between my legs, who had killed people for me. Not just one life. But five. The first one, I had already realized, that I was relieved. Every step I had taken from my father it sank in what Thatcher had done for me. That if Beauden Redd hadn’t been killed, what he might have eventually done to me.

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