Page 57 of Twice as Twisted

“Get him off!” she cries in pure panic, bracing her palms on his shoulders and trying to shove the corpse off her.

“You’re doing a good job of that all by yourself,” I say.

“Can dead guys cum?” Duke asks, cackling as he drops onto his hands and knees, thrusting his hips against the other man’s ass to push him harder into Mabel.

“I don’t think so,” I say, tapping my chin as if pondering the idea. “Should we find out?”

“Does it feel like I’m fucking you, little fairy?” Duke asks Mabel, staring down at her blood-soaked face while he grinds the body into her. “Can you tell that’s a dead man’s dick and not mine?”

“Please,” she gasps out. “I’ll do anything you want. Please!”

“Anything?” I ask, cocking my head.

“Yes,” she cries. “Please, Baron. Get it off me!”

I grab the back of Duke’s shirt and haul him up. Mabel arches her back, trying to push herself up, away from the dead man. I roll the body off her. It tumbles to the floor in the heavy, solid way that only a body can, jostling the coffee table and knocking over one of the wine glasses. His puny, half-flaccid erection pokes up like a finger inside a condom from under the paunch of his gut.

“This is on you,” I say, casting my gaze away in disgust. “We both know the fate of any man who touches you. They don’t call you a black widow for nothing.”

“You’re a monster.”

“We’re your monsters,” Duke says.

“Kneel over him,” I command of Mabel.

“What?” she asks, her voice thin with shock.

I point to the body. “You fuck another man, you face the consequences.”

When she doesn’t move, I grab her hair and drag her off the blood-stained sofa, hurling her onto him. I’m rewarded by the sight of her scrambling to rise from him instead of obeying.

Disobedience brings punishment. Mabel knows that, which means she wants to be punished, to be hurt, as much as I want to hurt her for what she did.

I flip her over, so she’s lying face down on his corpse, and yank up her skirt. She flails to get away, rising onto her knees, but I slam a palm to her back, shoving her face into him. She cries out, still fighting me. She’s not wearing underwear, though, and it only takes a second to open my pants and notch my cock against the entrance to her tight heat.

“No,” she screams, writhing frantically, her pussy clenching, trying to lock me out of what’s rightfully mine. I shove against her resistant flesh, but I can’t get it in, which drives me out of my fucking mind.

She’s so tight I want to cum before I’ve even begun. It’s not just about the tightness, though. If that’s all I was into, I would have fucked virgins like our mule Colin Finnegan, who had a reputation for preying on barely pubescent girls. But even in high school, age didn’t matter much to me. Sure, I fucked some freshmen when I was a senior, but I also fucked seniors when I was a freshman. The girl who stuck is one who’s two years older than us. It’s not her age. It’s the fact that Mabel is always tight, always dry, always unwilling. That’s what gets me off.

The trick, the challenge, for the rest of our lives, will be finding the balance that keeps her happy enough to stay, but resistant enough to conquer. That’s where Duke comes in.

“I believe you have something to say to my brother,” I growl, yanking her head up by the hair.

“What?” she chokes out.

“He says he asked if you loved him, and you lied. Tell him now.”

“I hate you,” she snarls.

“You love us exactly as much as we love you,” I say, and I use every bit of force inside me to slam myself home inside her.

Her breath catches audibly, and her entire body clenches around me so tight it hurts, and I see fucking stars.

“Say it,” I growl.

“No,” she gasps out.

I drag my cock back out of her dry cunt, relishing the banshee shriek that tears from her throat. I ram back in, gratified that she’s not loose or even wet from fucking that asshole. The realization that he got to fuck her dry makes me nearly lose my mind though. This is only for me. Even Duke doesn’t fuck her without lubing her up first.

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