Page 76 of Entombed In Sin

I skid to a stop just as I get to the side of the fort. Silence comes from the other side. I look over my shoulder. I don’t see either of the twins. Maybe I could snoop for just a moment. If no one is here, maybe I can use this place as protection. Determined to find a way to make this work for me, I step around to stand in front of the small encampment.

I yelp in horror at the sight before me.

There, littered around a small fire, are three bodies. The one nearest me is hunched over, still stuck in their cross-legged position. Their back is facing me, giving me a clear view of the three bloody puncture wounds that have torn throughthe sweatshirt they were wearing. There’s a puddle of blood beginning to blossom around the body, letting me know this was a recent kill. The other two lay on their sides. Blood gathers beneath them; it’s splattered on the cardboard walls, and the metallic stench of it is thick in this confined space.

Shock has me rooted in place. Who would’ve?—

I don’t have to finish the thought. The answer comes to me swiftly: the twins. Whether it was both or just one of them, I can’t be sure. Judging by how the bodies are positioned, no one even had time to get up and run. They died where they sat.

My stomach rolls. Not because of what’s before me. For some reason, the gruesome sight doesn’t repulse me like it should. The only reason fear spikes through me is because I now know what happens when you kill someone. The twins are bound to be blood drunk. That won't bode well for me. These people are already dead, but I can still save myself.

The flash of bright, hot pain slides diagonally across my back before I can shake the shock of the scene before me away. I cry out, stumbling forward into the puddle of blood. A hand grips my wrist and jerks me back. The movement prevents me from tumbling over the hunched body before me. It also pulls me back into a warm, solid wall of muscle. An arm wraps around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides.

“Hello, pretty Little Viper. Is it necessary for me to let you know that this is strike two? Or do you think you’re fine keeping track on your own?”

My heart comes to a grinding halt. Cold fear shoots through me. It mixes with a billowing heat that boils up from between my legs. The conflicting temperatures collide, and I’m reeling from it all. Tears gather in my eyes as too many emotions assault me.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I choke out, my voice a soft whimper. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Poor, Little Viper, don’t tell me you’re not having fun?” The dark laughter he lets out is short-lived, but no less terrifying. The deep, rusty noise causes the hair on my body to stand straight up. My heart slams in my chest and my blood grows cold. “I knowIam.”

Sagan’s other hand reaches out, and I start to shake my head as he grabs hold of the tail. My body stiffens as I wait for him to wrench it out and the pain that will undoubtedly follow. Instead, he twists it. The plug inside me twists too, and I can’t stop from crying out at the spike of unwanted pleasure that follows it. Sagan’s body, pressed tight against mine, trembles as he laughs again.

“Ourbrother has a wonderful sense of humor, doesn’t he? But he forgot something. Too eager to see you run, he forgot to do one thing before letting you go.”

Suddenly, the plug in my butt starts to vibrate, having been turned on by some type of switch attached to it. My screech echoes around the hangar as my body convulses. Oh god. My core clenches around nothing, already leaking with arousal from the exquisite sensation this stupid toy has elicited.

“There we go, much better.Nowthe game has gotten good.” Sagan’s hand slides around to my front where he cups my mound. The heat from his hand is undeniable.

“Turn it off, turn it off!” I cry out. I try to kick and elbow him, but I’m melting. The vibrations that are rattling inside me feel good.Toodamn good. It’s beginning to overpower the fear. But I need that fear—and the adrenaline it brings—to keep me moving.

Sagan ignores my request. His fingers slide through my wet slit, sending every nerve-ending there up in flames. I choke on a groan.

“No,” I whimper, desperate to break free.

Sagan’s fingers dive into my core. My body is ready for him. The slick, hot arousal dripping from me is lubricant for his fingers. Two slide inside me with an embarrassing sloshing noise. My back arches into Sagan as I lose the ability to breathe. The Hunt twin behind me hums in approval.

“Doesn’t this feel right, Little Viper? You, me, and death at our feet. It’s poetic, isn't it?” he murmurs into my ear as his fingers scissor and twist inside me.

My hips buck, and I tell myself it’s not to seek more friction but to get him out of me. My knees wobble as he caresses my insides, working my body up with such ease that it’s alarming.

“Say it, Little Viper,” Sagan growls. His thumb brushes over my clit, and I nearly fall apart right there. I fight the need to cum, focusing on the bodies before me. But my body shivers hard and my breathing comes in short gasps, betraying me. “Tell me you agree.”

“Yes,” I groan. “Yes, sir. This feels so good. So right.”

Sagan buries his face in the crook of my neck and groans. I echo it as his fingers pump in and out of me. My breathless gasps are loud. Surely Thatcher will find us here and I’ll be royally screwed. Though, being screwed by the twins doesn’t soundsoterrible.

Neither the idea of being caught by my other stepbrother, or the ugly sight before me is enough to stop the coiling of tension between my legs. My nipples strain in the cold air as I groan again.

“Imagine if you had killed your pastor friend and saw him at your feet like this. Imagine having been able to exactrevenge, Little Viper. He would have gotten what was coming to him and it wouldn’t have been his god doling out justice. It would have beenyou.”

“What does any of this have to do with him?” I ask, my mind piecing the picture of his death together, cutting through the heavy fog of desire.

Sagan holds me closer. He growls against my neck, the sound promising violence and death.

“Everything,” he snarls.

It’s not his words that cause my body to spasm and clench down around his fingers. My wail as I come undone under his touch has nothing to do with picturing Pastor Michaels dead at my feet, resting in a pool of his own blood. It’s the toy in my ass and his fingers. That’s it. Nothing more.

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