Page 101 of Buried Beneath Sin

“Don't know why you stopped. She didn't,” Sagan says, taunting softly.

I glare up at the Hunt twin who leans his forearms on the top of the winged back chair I'm in and gifts me with a rare, fleeting smile.

“What are you talking about?” I demand.

Sagan shrugs. “When I found her in the walls watching you, she was doing the same thing.”

At his head jerk toward my crotch, I realize what he's implying. I blink rapidly, confused.

“Wait, she was... you caught her... to me and Thatcher?” Heat flares to my face, but it's not from anger.

“She was just as taken with the scene before her as you are right now.” He glances at the television screen. “This is a great view, by the way.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me this when you burst into my room to let me know she was watching?!” I demand.

Sagan shrugs. “A broken rule is a broken rule. Did the details matter much? And I'm telling you now.”

He has to be wrong. Beatrix Starr is just like all the closed minded, traditionally stunted fuckers that breed in small towns like this. She was watching because she was intrigued, not because she found me, and mewithThatcher, attractive. That would changeeverything. The situation would actually behotthen, not mortifying. It would also make her punishment feel like a bit of an overreaction. I mean, she certainly broke a rule by spying on us, but I could've made this a lot less intense.

My mouth opens and closes, thoughts and feelings coming in too swiftly, jumbled, and conflicting, to react in any other manner. Have I been wrong about Beatrix this whole time? A small, nagging voice in the back of my head answers and I don’t like the response. Because if it’s true then I’ve really gone and messed things up with Starr Girl. I push the discomfort away, but not without a great deal of difficulty.

“Sagan...” Beatrix groans out next. The Hunt twin above me growls loudly, clearly pleased with what he’s hearing and seeing, before he straightens.

“I hope you're recording this because I want to watch it from the beginning,” he says.

He starts to step away from the chair and turns to leave, but I call out, “Wait, you're not going to watch? You were both supposed to be here enjoying this!”

“The father of one of the boys we killed is downstairs talking to Thatcher. Apparently the cops finally found the kid’s body, and they need us to come pick it up.”

“About time,” I mutter, but I’m distracted by the woman on the screen as she cums with a pained wail.

Sagan grunts in agreement. “While I’m gone, you should disinfect your car and the cremation chamber. There’s bleach and other cleaning supplies in the storage closet. Make sure there isn’t a single set of fingerprints just in case the police decide to get nosy.”

“Why would they check either place?” I mutter, looking back toward the screen. My cock hardens further as I watch.

“According to the guy speaking with Thatcher, the kid we cooked was the sheriff's boy, and there's a search party looking for him now that he's been missing for a while.” Sagan's voice loses what little warmth it had, letting me know he's done with this conversation. “The last place he was seen was at Bright Starr during the service. We need to make sure there’s absolutely no evidence lingering around here.”

Oh, I can see why Sagan would be anxious to wipe everything from head to toe.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do a thorough cleaning while you’re gone.”

With a sigh, I get up. Rather than turn off the television, I let it play on. It is recording, and now that I know Starr Girl got off to me, I have a feeling I'll be replaying it right alongside Sagan.

Sagan looks over my head to the screen. “Did you actually bury her, or is she just stuck in a coffin you nailed shut?”

“Yup, she’s six feet down in the old cemetery.”

I head toward the front door. Behind me Sagan reiterates, “Youdugsix feet,put the dirt back, and intend to re-dig six feet?”

His skepticism is loud despite how low and slow he talks.

“Ok, so maybe it's only a solid three or four feet underground. I got tired and realized I'd have to dig it all back up while I was burying her.” I wave a hand dismissively as he joins me at the front door. “Let me clean out my car first, then I'll go get Starr Girl and have her help me clean the cremation room.”

Sagan chuckles as we leave the house and head back down to Bright Starr. His hand comes up to hold the back of my neck. It's the most affection Sagan gives out willingly, and I lean into it appreciatively.

“Your punishment was clever. Good boy, Knox,” he murmurs.

If smiles are rare for Sagan, compliments are even more so. I beam up at him.

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