Page 29 of Entombed In Sin

10

BEATRIX

My body feels leaden, but my mind has been set free and is soaring miles overhead.

I killed someone tonight. There'd been no reason behind it being him, except he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My chest tightens as I brace myself for what Ishouldbe feeling. Any decent human being would probably be suffering from a bombard of horror, regret, denial, or having an existential crisis. But nothing other than a strange giddiness fills me. I want to laugh, dance, sing… But most of all, I want to cum. My pussy throbs as I sit in the passenger seat waiting for Thatcher to get back and take me home. The crotch of the sweatpants he brought me are drenched. I’ll have to toss them into the laundry basket when I get home.

My thighs clench as a rolling wave of heady desire makes its way through me.

This isn’t right. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know that. I should be worried about the man that Thatcher and Sagan have on the ground beside the burning car. Or what killing that man back in that house means for my soul.

Yet I can’t find it in me to care about either thing.

Tonight, I was in control of someone else’s fate. I wasn’t the one suffering at the hand of another.Ihad been an unstoppable force that took what I was owed and showed no mercy. And why would I? No one has ever shownmemercy.

Just thinking of the power Sagan had given me only amps up the desire burning in my body. My nipples are uncomfortably sensitive as they brush against the material of the sweater Thatcher brought me. I lean back in my seat, the movement letting the sweater caress them. A groan slips out in response. I’m teasing myself, but I can’t stop. Ineedto assuage this heat pooling through me.

Is this what power feels like? If so, I never want to be without it. At this very moment, I’m invincible. I’m not this weak woman with a tattered past. The one that flinches if people move too close or clams up in fear when people speak to her. I’m Beatrix Starr, a vengeful spirit ready to strike again if the moment arises.

I reach up and slide my hand beneath my sweater. My fingertips skim up my stomach before they tweak and pull at my right nipple. I groan loudly, unable to stop the reaction. Thank god Thatcher hadn’t brought a bra. He hadn’t brought panties either. I could reach down and…

No, wait… I shake my head, trying to push away the dizzying fog of lust riding me.

Guilt. I need to be feelingguilty. That man was in his house, doing his own thing. Whatever that fucked up two-person prayer group was doing, they hadn’t been bothering me. I reach out, searching for the shame and horror. But I find none. Instead, I feel amused. A laugh slips out of my mouth as I think about how ridiculous I am. Why should I feel bad? They clearly weren’t good people; who cares what I did to them? In a way, they probably deserved it.

Unable to stop myself, I allow my other hand to slide beneath the waistband of my sweatpants and dive between my legs.I’m met with a mess smeared all over my thighs. The arousal between my legs is thick and warm. My fingers slide through my slit easily, becoming soaked with just a single pass through. My hips buck and my pussy clenches. It would be so easy to dive into my core and get off.

But where’s the fun in that?

I tease my clit with arousal and then slide my fingers back through my slit. The breathy moans that fill the cab of the truck are soft, but since they’re the only sound in here, they seem loud. The noise is erotic. My other hand goes back and forth between my breasts to pinch and tweak my nipples. My hips buck again as pleasure dances down my spine.

“Oh…oh…” I groan.

Just as I decide enough is enough, and I want an orgasm, a soft tap on the driver’s side window pulls my attention away from my overheated body. The fog in my head doesn’t urge me to pull my hands away from myself, and I don’t even think about it as I search for the culprit. There, looking in at me, is Thatcher. His arms are braced above the door, and he’s leaning forward, watching me intently. I watch his tongue slide over his bottom lip as he stares at me hungrily. His chest heaves as he breathes hard. There’s tension bracketing his mouth and his brows are furrowed together.

Keep going, he mouths.

“Come here, please…” I beg just loud enough for him to hear. “I need you.”

“Do what he says, Little Viper,” Sagan’s voice says beside me.

I turn to find him on the other side of my window, in the exact same stance and wearing the exact same expression as his brother. A drunken smile pulls at my lips. Feeling brazen, I let my fingers slide through my slit once more before I sink two inside me. My hips buck harder, but I’m slow as I pump my fingers in and out. Arousal drips over my hand. I grip my breastand knead hard, loving the buildup and the eyes that now watch me.

“Please,” I beg the two of them, looking back and forth at them through a hooded gaze. “I need you both.”

Neither one says anything. They simply watch hungrily. Their eyes as they travel over me are like another pair of hands. I swear I can feel them as I work myself up. Thatcher, Sagan, they’re here with me, touching me in all the ways I ache for. I shove another finger into my pussy and apply more pressure to my slippery clit.

“Thatcher. Sagan! My big bothers…my perfect, fucked-up big brothers,” I groan loud enough for them to hear, feeling desperate now to find my release.

I tweak my nipple harder as I curl my fingers inside of me. That does the trick. I cum all over my fingers, drenching my pants and choking on a cry of pleasure.

“Fuck, Little Viper,” Sagan groans as he pushes away from the window. “You’re so fucking enthralling.” He says it like it’s a bad thing before he stomps away.

As I shudder through my release, Thatcher opens his door and slides into the driver’s seat.

“I need more, Thatcher,” I whimper as my pussy flutters around my fingers. Already I can feel the desire rising once again, as if the orgasm only added more fuel to the flames.

“We need to get going. The flames are going to attract attention soon,” Thatcher says through clenched teeth as he watches me discard my sweatpants. “What are you doing?”

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