Page 3 of Entombed In Sin

Yet as Thatcher’s hand dives between my legs—leaving my breast—I can’t help but lean into the pleasure. At least it’s not fear. Or a crippling, crushing sense of despair. Thatcher’s other hand lifts as he hangs the loofah back up. But he’s not done. He grabs the shower head, lifting it from its rack.

“Spread your legs.”

I do as I’m told. It’s not like he’d let me object, anyway. Do I even want to?

Thatcher adjusts the setting on the shower head until it’s a hard, pulsating stream, then brings it down between my legs. The warm water hits my clit and sends my frayed nerves into overdrive. I cry out, surprised. Thatcher’s hand lands on my hip to steady me.

“Relax, Little Sister. Let me help you fall apart, and when you’re done, I’ll piece you back together and hold you tight.”

Despite his words, my teeth clench together, and I fight the urge to just cave in to him and his touch. I shouldn’t be doing this. I almost died because of their stupid rules. My bottom lip gets caught between my teeth as I fight the heat just alittlebit longer. It’s hard given how amazing this feels.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, I give into the moment. My body melts and a fortuitous moan slips past my lips as I set my bottom one free.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, while the last of my resistance ebbs away. “Let me make it better, Little Sister.”

The water hits my clit just right and I can’t help but roll my hips to chase the pleasure building in my lower abdomen. I want to hold everything in—to hide my pleasure and the shame that comes with it. Thatcher shouldn’t be able to both obliterate meandbring me back from ruination. It’s just not fair. But I can’t stop the slight moan that rumbles in my throat. Nor can I prevent my lips from parting and whispering Thatcher’s name as my toes curl. Soon my body is a quivering mess. Oh god, it feels so good tofeelgood, even for this brief moment. My fingers curve, what nails remain scraping against the wall. I can’t seem to breathe easily. Each inhale is a soft gasp that comes out as a twisted groan.

Thatcher moves behind me. Suddenly, his erection rests at my entrance.

“Hips back,” he orders, his voice deepening.

Rather than overthink it, I simply spread my legs wider and push my butt back. With easy access, Thatcher doesn’t hesitate. He surges forward, his dick driving into me, stretching me beyond belief. His name is a soft, near reverent chant. I arch back into him, loving how full I feel with him inside me. When he’s bottomed out, he stills for just a moment. His groan is deep as it rattles around in his throat, and I can feel the shudder running through his body.

“So good, Beatrix. You’re so damn good for me,” he says softly. “Now let your big brother feed that pretty little cunt some nice, warm milk.”

There is nothing gentle about the way he moves. With each thrust, his hips snap against my butt and I cry out. My head spins, fatigue and a wave of giddiness mingling until I’m practically high. Thatcher pulls his hips back then surges deeper and harder into my body. I gasp as my eyes roll back into my head. Skin and water slap together. The sounds are both dirty and erotic. I arch back as my legs begin to tremble. The water hitting my clit, warm and unrelenting, with Thatcher’s dick stuffed so deep inside me, hits all the right places.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well.” Thatcher groans into my ear. “You can take more of it, can’t you? Of course you can. Iknowyou can. Take me deeper, Beatrix. Bend those hips back further.”

I shiver under his words and I do as I’m told. At this angle, Thatcher sinks deeper, making me choke on a cry.

“Yes, just like that. That’s right, Little Sister. Feel me and know that you and I belong together. I won’t let Knox, or anyone else, take you away from me. Your soul is already cemented to mine. You think I would let a little mistake take you away? Fuck no.”

He needs to stop talking. I don’t want to know how he thinks I belong to him. But his words are hooking themselves into my psyche and pushing out rational thought. I focus on the sensation building between my legs. On how my pussy is clenching around his hard dick as he mercilessly buries himself inside my body.

“I’ll admit I was scared there for a second, but now, holding you, it all feels right as rain,” Thatcher continues, his voice a deep growl. I can almost picture him gritting his teeth as he leans forward to speak into the back of my neck. “Now, hold on,I’m going to cum so deep into your cunt that you’ll be leaking me for days. It’ll be a reminder to the both of us how good it feels to be here with each other. Got that, Little Sister? Do you hear how desperately your big brother needs you?”

As much as I don’t want to hear this, his words are like a balm to something in my psyche. Someone needs me. For once, in my miserable existence, someone wants and needs me around. Hadn’t I been looking for a connection when I stumbled upon Thatcher and he introduced himself as Chase? Sure, I was also looking for a thrill, but a thrill I could share with someone else. That need to be with someone has led me to this very moment, in a strange, roundabout way. The entire situation of finding myself buried is my own doing, more so than even Knox’s.

Now that I have that connection, can I live without it? If I could, would I escape from Thatcher and the others? Just the thought of taking off, even after what just transpired… I internally cringe away from the idea. I’m hooked on Thatcher and Sagan… even Knox. As much as I hate him right now, I can’t see a life without him in it.

Is this the feeling my mom had when she got high? Her vice was heroin, but maybe mine is Thatcher, Sagan, and Knox. I’ve had a taste of being wanted, of being important enough for people to kill for. How could I possibly toss this away, as toxic and deadly as it seems to be? As much as I hate it, without these guys, I don’t have a purpose in this life.

The bitterness that comes on the tailcoat of that thought makes my stomach twist.

I push it away for the moment as the pleasure between my legs, coils in my lower stomach and grows tauter. Glancing down, I catch sight of Thatcher’s fingers digging into my hip, the veins on top of his hand bulging as he holds me in place. I don’t know why, but the sight of them is my undoing. My body tenses, the breath in my throat catches. The pleasure that eruptswipes all thoughts, worries, and cares away. Just like the night we spent together, I’m free of everything that makes me… me.

As my orgasm subsides, and my soul floats back down to reality, I find myself crying. When did the tears start? I can’t remember. Maybe they never stopped? I’m so confused by their presence and the thick, conflicting emotions rushing through me. Heavy sobs rock my body—as if acknowledging the fat watery droplets have opened the floodgate. Unable to stop myself, I seek comfort in the wall of muscle behind me. At least for a moment he could make me feel good, and right now I’ll cling to that.

“Thank you, Thatcher…” I say.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet.”

Thatcher’s teeth suddenly sink into the crook of my neck, biting down painfully. At the same time, he finds his release. I can feel the swell of his dick as he spills himself deep inside of me. Thatcher doesn’t stop his hard thrusts, but they do become a bit more shallow as he coats my insides. To my surprise, each jerk of his hips sends wave after wave of aftershocks through me. I shudder and shake under their surprising intensity. The pain of Thatcher’s bite disappears as his teeth release me and he gently sucks on the mark.

For a few moments, we breathe heavily as we revel in each other’s hold.

But then Thatcher’s moving again. Within a few minutes, the water is off, a towel is wrapped around my body, and he’s guiding me out of the bathroom. I glance toward my dresser where my pajamas are kept. Thatcher doesn’t stop for me to grab them. He steers me out of my room and guides me through the hallway to the room he’s occupied since moving in.

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