Page 50 of The Devils of Saint City

“I want her to want to seek us out,” I admit. “I want her willing, and yet I can’t help but feel this addiction to her tears and anger. I’m fucking this up, Manson. I’ve only managed to make her hate me more.”

“That’s true,” he agrees, leaning down to force me to meet his eyes as he runs his thumb over her clit, making her squirm just a little in her sleep. “She does hate you. But I don’t think she hates you the same way she used to, and I don’t think you do, either.”

His fingers dip inside her then find their way to my lips, beckoning me. Luring me in until I’m sucking them clean with my eyes closed as I allow myself to accept what he’s saying. I do hate her... but I don’t hate her how I used to. If I’m being completely honest I haven’t even thought about her bitch of a mother in days, because I don’t see her anymore when I stare into those blues. I just see her, and the hatred my heart is desperate to cling to. I don’t know what the fuck this means. “How the fuck did I get here? How the fuck do the lines blur between hatred and longing?”

I lean down and lick up her pussy for more, almost wishing she was awake to pull my hair, to see me down here for the first time.

But she’s not.

“It happens more than you think,” Manson chuckles. “Take your time down there. She gets sweeter the longer you stay, and hell. Maybe it’ll be good for you. Practice letting yourself do what you want, say what you feel, and not worry about consequences. We’re not filming yet. She’ll never know. Just... be.”

Nodding, I lick again. I’ve never eaten a pussy before, but Manson has made it seem like it’s his favorite meal, and now that I’m tasting her from the source I think I understand why. “Tastes even better down here.”

“Wait until you feel her wrap her thighs around your head. That’s how I want to die, y’know? Face buried in a sloppy wet cunt, fighting for air while gorgeous thick thighs keep me pinned.” His fingers trail over my shoulders and up the back of my neck until he’s got a loose fistful of my hair. “Go on. Get to know her a little better. Get lost for a bit.”

Half of me wants to cuss him out for trying to boss me around, but I have practice shoving that shit down. It’s Manson, and he’s the only person in the world I actually listen to. Or he was... is? Whatever.

Like he says, I dive in a little lower for more of her flavor, swiping up her center so the tip of my tongue breeches her hole, and I can’t fight the groan that bursts out of me. I think I might understand what he means and I’m not even getting the full experience.

I stay there a few minutes more for myself and then sit up to share with Manson, my tongue sliding into his mouth to tease him a little, and then I get into position. I’m so hard from eating her out my cock is throbbing, begging for her. It needs her like I need fucking air in my lungs.

Manson carefully climbs up on the bed by the pillows, pulling her head into his lap as he watches me. “What do you want to say to her, Ash? She can’t hear you.”

I close my eyes tightly so I can force myself not to hold back. It’s hard. As much as I loved my dad, he taught me that real men keep their shit close to their chest. They bottle it down, and keep their mouth shut, because anything other than strong silence is weakness, but with Manson I don’t have to be that way. Maybe... I don’t have to be that way with her either. “Rhea,” I whisper, lining myself up to slip inside. “You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts.” I want to say so much more, but the compliments I’ve been slacking on seem to want to pour out of me. “So fucking strong.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Manson encourages, reaching down to lightly trace the outline of her breast. “Keep going.”

I follow his hands, rolling my hips deeper so she squirms. “I crave you every single day, and when I can’t have you I want to fucking kill someone. In fact, I have.”

Manson knows that already, but the truths slipping from my lips are getting easier.

She can’t hear me. She’ll never know.

“She’s ours now,” Manson reminds me. “Every day, whether she likes it or not.”

“Ours,” I repeat, snapping my hips faster now. The way her tits bounce is so fucking hot I lean in to suck one. “I want her to like it. I want her to fucking want it.”

Rhea whimpers when I pinch her nipple between my teeth, but she doesn’t wake. Manson keeps her steady under me as I drive deeper, not caring if she does wake up. This might be the only way I’m ever able to say this shit out loud.

“Kiss her,” he whispers, tilting her head straight. Her lips are parted in invitation, making my cock throb just thinking about what they’d feel like against mine. “Kiss your little sister, Ash.”

“No,” I whisper, but my mouth is crashing to hers before I can stop myself, and I don’t know why but my eyes sting.

I want her awake.

The lack of response is maddening as I trap her bottom lip between mine, letting it free slowly. There’s nothing there, no recognition, hatred, passion, none of it.

So I pull away angrily and lean in to bite and suck a mark right on her throat. I finally had the balls to kiss her, and she took fucking pills to stay asleep.

Immediately, I’m fucking her harder, snapping my hips so fast she’s whimpering while asleep and the noise is enough to send me over with a growl.

I come so hard I see stars, my cock pulsing as it fills up her cunt, and when the words “I’m sorry,” escape through my lips I surprise even myself. I shouldn’t be sorry, and yet I can’t even deny the fact that she doesn’t deserve this to myself.

Not anymore.

I just wish it was enough to make me stop.

“We should talk to her tomorrow. While she’s awake, I mean. It might not be too late.”

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