Page 44 of Entombed In Sin

A smile splits across my face as I slowly roll over to get to my feet. When I get there, my smile has evolved into a full-blown, idiotic grin. All I can see is Thatcher’s mouth as I approach the back of the car where he’s opened the door for me. He’s talking, but I can’t quite hear him. The sound of fizzing bubbles rings in my ears, overpowering everything else in this moment. As I approach, Thatcher stops talking. His mouth curves into a smile as I come up right beside him. Just as I reach up to climb into the back of the cab, Thatcher grabs my face and jerks it upward. My gasp is captured by his mouth. The harsh kiss is quick but it sends my pulse spiking to dangerous levels. When Thatcher pulls away, my grin is even bigger than before.

“In, Little Sister,” he orders, loud enough to break through the noise in my ears.

“Yes, Big Brother,” I murmur. His lips—smeared with the blood from mine—split into a grin in response. I flush deeply at it before I duck my head and climb into the cab.

Thatcher slams the door shut behind me before he steps forward and slides into the driver’s seat. Sagan joins us only seconds later, hopping into the passenger’s seat with a cold grin directed at his brother.

“You sure you want to leave evidence behind?”

“Absolutely,” Thatcher says, before chuckling darkly. “I want whoever is watching us to know we don’t give a wild fuck about his claim on a city like this.”

Thatcher guns the gas and we take off, tires screeching in protest as we barrel away from the bloody crime scene.

“I got a lock on Knox,” Sagan growls.

“Which way?”

“Turn left, drive six blocks, then right.”

I’m thrown back in my seat as Thatcher speeds up. Tilting my head, I relax against the headrest and stare up at the ceiling. The blood on my face cools, but the strange bubbling in my veins doesn’t lessen. I enjoy the pleasant tingling just beneath my skin. It warms me back up, chasing away the cold that had seeped into my body. As I focus on it, I realize that the tingling iseverywhere.Including between my legs. The minute I notice, it intensifies and an additional warmth gathers there. With a breathy groan, I attempt to relieve the incredible sensation by pressing my thighs together.

This is so messed up. Somewhere in the back of my head, Iknowthis. Right now, I should be asking the twins where they’d been or why it took them so long to show up. The questions drift away, though. I find I would rather hold on to this strange feeling of giddiness inside me. What is wrong with me? The twins just killed two people, and I’m sitting heresmiling. I shake away that thought, too.

I rock to the right as Thatcher turns left, then I’m thrown to the left as he takes a sharp right. I’m thrown forward as he hits the brakes a moment later. Out my window are two houses sitting side by side, so close they look to be almost touching. Both houses are boarded up, dark and covered in graffiti. Is Knox in one of them?

Sagan and Thatcher climb out of the truck without a word. I’m slower on the uptake. Quickly, I scramble out of the back. As they prowl toward the houses, I look around. We’re in an even slummier section of the neighborhood than what I had been in. That being said, I can almost hear music from a house party drifting overhead. We must be relatively close.

Rather than head into one of the houses, the twins slip between them and into the darkness. I trot a few feet behind, not sure what to expect but ready for anything. As I let the darkness engulf me, I feel like it sticks to my skin. It’s cool, but not unwelcome to my overheated body. It also feels a little familiar. Like I’m getting used to a dark presence in my life and this is just another level of it.

My eyes adjust to the lack of light. Ahead of me, the twins stalk toward the back of the house. No, not the back—just to the chain link fence. There, leaning with his back against it, is Knox. His netted white crop top is blood splattered, as is his face. With his head thrown back, a hand up beside him with fingers hooked through the links of the fence as the other hand hangs between his legs, he looks like he’s a model striking a pose for some grunge magazine.

But as I get closer, I realize he’s not modeling, he’s jerking off.

His soft moan tips me off first, followed by the movement between his legs. I frown, curious to understand what’s hanging out of that hand. It’s certainly not his dick given that it stretches all the way to the ground.

That’s when I see the corpse at his feet and the large abdominal wound it’s currently sporting. One end of the large intestine has been cut and yanked out of the body. It stretches up, out of the cavity, and is currently being used as a sleeve for Knox’s dick.

My feet stop moving as I gape at the bloody, gruesome scene before me.

“Oh hey, guys, come to party with me?” Knox asks, cracking an eye open as he begins to thrust his hips. “You’re more than a little fashionably late.”

Thatcher and Sagan approach him, coming up on either side of Knox. Sagan’s forearm comes to rest against the chain link fence just above Knox’s head. Thatcher takes Knox’s chin and turns Knox to face him. Leaning down, Thatcher kisses Knox just as he had with me. Knox moans.

With Knox distracted, he doesn’t see Sagan’s other hand as it comes up before landing right in the middle of Knox’s chest.

I jump in surprise as Knox screams in what sounds like agony. Thatcher captures the noise, eating it up. Knox’s hips jerk forward, and his hand, gripping the intestine hard around his dick, moves faster. Sagan’s hand drops away, and Knox stops screaming. Thatcher ends the kiss and smirks at Knox, whose smile is gone. His face is twisted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut.

The twins switch positions; this time Sagan’s the one to grip Knox’s face and kiss him. Thatcher reaches forward and presses a hand to the middle of Knox’s chest. Knox’s body tenses before he starts to scream again. But Sagan’s mouth is a great muffler.

Now I understand Knox's aversion to touch. Ithurtshim. What could have possibly happened to Knox that would cause this response?

Greg, a small voice whispers in the back of my blood-drunk mind.

The breath I’d stolen expels from my lungs in a single swoosh as understanding dawns on me. Maybe there were others along the way, but I’m sure, given what I know about Knox, it probably stems from his encounter with the guy who started it all.

I don’t quite know how to feel about this realization. As I watch the twins begin to caress Knox along his chest, stomach,and arms and Knox screaming in agony, I’m fascinated. No, I’m weirdly turned on. Ilikehis pain. The way sweat begins to glisten on his chest and his face turns pink as he yells… It’s all so mesmerizing. And I think he likes it too. Why else would he allow this to continue? He’s not pushing the twins away or trying to escape. In fact, he looks like the pain is only turning him on even more.

I stare, open-mouthed, at the sight before me. The three of them should be painted. The contrast between dark and light is stunning. Magnificent even. Morbid too. The blood on Knox’s face transfers over to the twins’ faces. The delicious bubbling in my veins becomes more intense. My blood grows warm, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

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