Page 30 of Of Heathens & Havoc

“I didn’t,” I protest. “I only told the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth right now,” he says, leaning closer, his fiery eyes burning into mine with white-hot hatred. “Why’d you ask me to stay?”

“I wanted—I just want—” I break off, a hiccup of a sob coming up. “I just want to be with you. Like it used to be.”

“You want me to kiss it better?” he asks, skimming his nose lightly over mine, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What?” I breathe, my voice gone, my mind trying to navigate the confusing tumble of emotions in my heart and the throbbing in my body, like every blood cell has developed its own heartbeat.

His warm breath whispers against my cheek, curling through me like smoke and sin. “You don’t want me to spread your creamy thighs and kiss your bare, wet cunt until you beg for mercy?”

“No,” I whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes, my brother who is a stranger now, an experienced man who does these unspeakable things, while I’m still a child in comparison.

He leans back and slides his hand back up to my chin again, lifting it and forcing me to look into his eyes. “Lying is a sin, Mercy Soules.”

I swallow hard, unable to hold his gaze. My lids flutter closed.

“You’d let me,” he says. “You want me to. That’s why you asked me to stay. You want me to lick and suck and fuck your raw cunt with my tongue until you squirt all over my face like you did earlier.”

I gasp, my lips falling open and my whole body flushing with heat at his filthy words—and the naked truth of them.

Before I can answer, his lips press together in a hard line again. “Too bad I don’t eat garbage.”

“What?” I gasp in confusion, my heart still hammering and my mind reeling from his words.

“Your cunt’s dirty, sloppy trash,” he says, standing from the bed. “I wouldn’t fuck it if you were the last woman on earth.”

“Saint,” I cry, reaching for him.

He steps away and shakes his hair back. “You’re my sister, for fuck’s sake. What the hell is wrong with you, Mercy? I thought you were innocent, but you’re obviously a used up, filthywhore who’s so desperate you’d beg your own brother to eat your worn out pussy.”

“I didn’t,” I protest, a sob wracking my body.

“Since you told me the truth, I’ll return the favor,” he says, his eyes raking down my body in one harsh sweep. “A pig wouldn’t eat that slop between your legs.”

He strides to the door, yanks it open, and steps out. Then he turns back, his lively eyes now cold and flat, unaffected by the tears streaming down my cheeks. “Go home.”

Then he closes the door, leaving me alone with only my threadbare teddy bear for comfort.

thirteen

The Saint

“The fuck were you thinking?” I bellow, storming through the door to the heathen’s room.

“Hold that thought,” he says, sparing me only a glance from behind the eyes of the wolf mask he’s wearing before he turns back to the willing victim he’s currently drilling so deep you’d think the little shit was tapping for oil. “I’m almost done.”

She mewls pathetically from inside the sheep head she’s still wearing. Her little white dress is bunched around her waist, her ass in the air and her tits on the mattress. Her arms are extended over her head, her hands bound to his bedframe with the cincture that held Mercy’s as Heath rails her from behind.

“That’s right, little lamb,” he pants. “Let me hear you bleat.”

The chick has little enough self-respect to obey, letting out a sheep-likebaaas he lifts her hips and pumps into her shaved pussy.

Suddenly, a flash of what we witnessed in the tunnels returns to my mind, the soft curls of strawberry blonde pubic hair parted as the Master spread her cunt open for us to see.

“I ought to stomp you into the ground until there’s nothing left but bloodstains,” I growl, slamming the door and stalking toward him. I’m too pissed to even think about joining, though a good fuck would probably calm me down right now.

“One second,” he pants, gripping the crease of her hips as he picks up the pace, jackhammering into her, his hips a blur of motion.

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