Page 64 of Of Angels & Absolution

I spot a threadbare, raggedy brown bear on her bed and stare at it in disbelief. I snatch it up, remembering the way she dragged the dumb thing around like a security blanket when we were kids. She reaches for it, but I hold it away from her.

“Give it back,” she cries.

“Is this the bear Saint gave you when you were like, five?” I snort with laughter. “Fuck, M. You have it bad for your own brother. Were you rubbing this on your pussy and thinking about him wrecking it while you watched a fucking kid’s movie? You’re sick.”

“No,” she protests, holding out a hand. “Now give it back. It’s mine.”

“I don’t blame you, babe, this guy’s pretty sexy,” I say, fending her off with one hand and rubbing the bear against mydick with the other. “I’d fuck him. I might even think about your brother while I did it.”

“Stop it,” she says, twisting to try to grab the bear again. “You’re defiling Raphael.”

That only makes me laugh harder. “Oh, Saint, stuff me like this bear,”I mock, thrusting against the stuffed animal. “Do you rub his face in your cunt? Is that why he’s so matted? Maybe pretend he’s licking your pussy, rub his little nose on your clit when you cum?”

“You’re sick,” Mercy seethes, launching herself from the bed at me.

Her weight slams into me, and I stumble backwards. The thick tangle of blankets catches my feet, and I crash to the floor with her. I roll over, every muscle in my body tight, coiled to react. I grind my dick between her legs once, hard, and she cries out, her eyes flying wide.

“Heath,” she cries.

“Yeah, baby,” I say, grinning down at her with malicious triumph. “Say my name when my dick is owning you.”

“Please,” she gasps, struggling to free herself. “Let me go.”

“Now where’s the fun in that, little lamb?”

I grind again, this time nice and slow, so she can feel the pierced monstrosity that’s going to be ripping her open. Her pupils dilate, and I realize she wants this. She’s as hot for it as I am.

“You want to run, don’t you?” I ask. “Like you did on HAVOC night. That’s it, isn’t it? You wish I’d caught you that night, that I hadn’t spared you. You wish you’d gotten fucked to within an inch of your life. Admit it, and I’ll let you go.”

“No,” she manages, still scrambling under me.

I reach down, shoving her flannel nightgown up and thrusting my hand between her legs. Her underwear is soaked, and the warmth of the damp fabric makes my cock strain insidemy pants. I hook my finger under the strip of cotton and tug it aside, then work my middle finger through her slickness to her opening.

“Wait,” she cries, the sound so fucking hot on her hitching breath that I can’t stop myself. I watch her face as I slowly sink a finger in, forcing it to the last knuckle inside her tight, wet heat. She gasps, her hands clamping onto my shoulders, nails digging in. I curl my finger, and her eyes roll back, her lids fluttering and her mouth dropping open in the silent torment of bliss. Enraptured by the sight, I slowly drag my finger out, then drive it deep again, so hard her body scoots up on the floor. Her back arches, and a helpless cry of pleasure falls from her lips, and I nearly cum in my pants from the sound alone.

I want to hear it again, so I repeat the motion, fucking her with my finger, curling it inside to hit the sweet spot that makes her heels dig in, her hips rock, her breath catch.

“Saint,” she cries, lifting her hips for me.

I yank my hand back, and the next second, my palm smacks across her cheek, bringing her back to reality. I grip her chin, shaking her. “You think Saint wants to fuck your cunt after you’ve passed it around to all his friends?” I demand. “You think he’d make you feel that good? He’s the one who would hurt you, Mercy. He’s the one who would laugh at your tears and make you cry again just to get off on them.”

I’m so pissed I can’t see straight. I jump to my feet, grabbing her bear. I wrench it in both hands, and with a ripping sound that echoes through the room, it tears in two.

There’s one second of brittle silence. I stare at my hands, the mangled body in one, a cottony hole where its head used to be. Mercy’s cry of anguish breaks the stillness, and she snatches the head from my other hand. She scoots away, backing to the side of her bed, staring at me like I just murdered her cat.

“You want Saint?” I demand. “I can be Saint. All I have to do is think of ways to make you cry. How’s this one?” I wrench open my belt, yank my dick out, and stuff it into the bear’s neck.

Mercy lets out a mewling cry, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You like that, huh?” I ask, jerking her bear’s body over my dick. It’s soft inside, like jerking off into a sock. I stumble over to her and fall forward, bracing my free hand on the edge of the bed.

She cowers down, clutching Raphael’s head against her chest and staring up at me, her wide eyes magnified by tears. “Please,” she whispers.

“I can’t hear you,” I sing out, jerking my dick in her face. If I pulled the bear off, I could shove it down her throat, listen to her gag.

“Please,” she says, reaching for my hand, trying to rescue her stuffed animal. The moment her dainty little fingers wrap around my hand, though, the picture is too close to the one I want—Mercy on her knees, both hands wrapped around my dick while she chokes on it. Pressure explodes at the base of my spine, and the next second, it barrels along my shaft. I want to pull the bear off my dick and shoot my load all over Mercy’s face, but Saint would never do that.

I commit to the bit and finish inside the cottony sheath of tattered fur instead.

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