Page 32 of Unholy

My lips quiver as my orgasm builds. “Open your mouth,” I demand, and with no time wasted, he does. Leaning forward, I spit the excess saliva accumulating in my mouth into his. At the same time, I tug the chain and the clamps follow, snapping his sensitive, hard nipples.

His body jolts while a sweet moan escapes.

My entire body is trembling; I have resisted my release for as long as I can.

“Come,” I hiss out. Dropping the clamps next to me, I reach for the plug and rapidly dislodge it from him, making his orgasm even more intense.

I can feel his cum filling me as mine coats him.

Letting go of the plug, I reach up and pinch my nipples. The sweet sting feels so fucking good. My movements slow. Nathaniel’s eyes are barely open and his breathing is heavy. I can feel sweat beading down my face with each aftershock that hits me, leaving me quivering on top of him. With shaking arms, I reach over him and unhook the cuffs. I nearly fall into him, resting on his chest, but I stop myself.

I gave in to this, sex, but this is as far as I’ll go.

Then it occurs to me what we just did—we had sex. I gave in and also made it about my own desire and pleasure beyond what I normally do. There is no afterglow. I go into shock because of my own actions with a man who I should hate, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I shouldn’t?

Shaking my head, I ask, “Would you like water? A bath with salts?”

Aftercare is as important as our sessions.

Nathaniel’s voice is hoarse. “No. Just sleep.” I nod and slide off of him. His cum drips out of me and down my thighs. I leave it there, because I like it.

Our cum coats his glistening cock.

Sleep sounds incredible, and I am suddenly incredibly tired. Exhaustion sweeps over me; it’s been building, but I’ve ignored all signs of it until now as I let a yawn escape me.

I don’t bother cleaning myself up. Sliding under the soft blankets next to him, my eyes are heavy as my head hits the pillow. Nathaniel doesn’t move. Giving in to the day, I close my eyes, leaving the world behind, if only for a few hours.

NATHANIEL

A loud shriek of terror wakes me. Throwing the blankets off me, I am already on high alert looking for the source.

It doesn't take me long. Rylee.

She is standing, wrapped in a throw blanket from the end of the bed, looking out the glass doors that open to the balcony overlooking the backyard. Racing up behind her, I look in the same direction she is and my face goes red as anger fills me.

My fist clenches and pounds on the glass, causing her to jump. Before I can comfort her, my brain needs to comprehend what exactly I am looking at. My eyes shift around my backyard in absolute disbelief.

Brad’s head is at the center of it, on a wooden stake in the yard. His eyes have dried blood staining down his cheeks, his mouth sewn shut. Around him, various states of death are on display, from flesh to bones. Some are encased in wooden coffins with the lids open to hang out of an old car’s trunk. A feware hanging from large tree branches, either from the throat or wrists.

Then a few truly throw me off. They are in sleeping bags, only their heads sticking out.

“ELIJAH!”

14

NATHANIEL

Standing in the front entrance of my son’s house, I am fucking fuming. “Get your ass over here!” I shout and my voice echoes around me.

Rain is first to peek around the corner. “What did he do?” She already knows whatever it is has to be a new level of grotesque as I am yelling.

“Where is he?” I ask as I take in her new pregnant body. Rain’s bump only popped a few days ago, and with each change, Elijah amps up his level of fuckery. It’s how he copes, but fuck me, a body farm in my backyard?

“Out back with the pigs.” She smirks. I am so grateful to have her in our family; she helps balance my boy and makes this family a little more loving than it had been previously. So I casually tell her why I am so pissed off while making my way to the back door. “Body farm. Brad’s head is at the center of it.”

Rain sighs. “He’s been watching your house at night. Greta’s granddaughter is absolutely on his radar. He knows there is something there without fully understanding it, if that makes sense? He doesn’t know how to feel… about it.” Her words cause me to pause.

“It’s nothing. Just an arrangement of sorts.”

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