Page 139 of Property of Necro
When he glances up and meets my gaze, he stills, his face contorts, and his hips stutter as he dumps cum into my hole. The greedy place squeezes, wanting to draw every twitch from him.
Rot’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, and his entire body quakes.
“Aw fuck.” Coffin slams me down on his shaft, and the door to the bedroom flies open. It hits the wall, and in stalks a furious Necro wearing low-slung jeans, his mask, and nothing else.
He takes one look at me, at his brothers, our position, and he cocks his head to the side. The fury drains from his face as his blue-white eyes latch onto mine, and the tether that’s been missing all these months locks back into place, stronger than before. Wanting to see him, I wave him over. I don’t know why. But I do. And he comes. He doesn’t hesitate to stop beside us and comb his healing fingers through my hair. Tilting my head back, he forces me to maintain eye contact as Rot slips free of my ass and out drips his seed, making a mess.
“I missed you,” I croak.
Necro says nothing as he holds my hair and watches me. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.
“Do you wanna join us?” Coffin offers, lifting my ass and removing himself from my pussy. Turning me in his arms, he gently lays me on the mattress. My legs fall open, giving them a front-row view of my naked body. While I might be somewhat insecure at times, it’s impossible to be when all three men line up at the end of the bed and stare at me like feral animals.
Rot crawls onto the mattress beside me and draws a nipple into his mouth.
“Ask him again,” he whispers.
No way.No goddamn way. This can’t be fuckin’ real.
She’s not here.
This isn’t her.
This is another one of those cruel dreams.
My heart punches out of my chest as I watch my brother glide his hand down a soft, milky belly that looks like Sola’s, over a red mound, and between a pair of legs that also look like hers.
I heard them fucking someone when I came upstairs to find them, so we could talk. But when I heard this… I expected to find… someone else here.
Not My Soul.
I tentatively touch her ankle. It’s silky, warm, and real as I rub my thumb across her skin and blink… and blink and blink, waiting for the vision of her to change and my mind to catch the fuck up.
But it doesn’t.
The moans are hers.
The dried blood at her throat—Sola’s.
My Soul.
I swallow, and it hurts like hell, but that’s what happens when you try to kill yourself and fail.
But I’m used to thepain.
It’s a comfort.
A reminder of what I deserve and who I am.
“Please.” Sola’s sweet voice floats on the air as she waves for me to join her in bed.
No.
This isn’t real.
Coffin clasps me on the shoulder and steps behind me. He reaches around and undoes my jeans. For whatever reason, I don’t stop him.
He shoves them down to my knees and exposes my rock-hard, mutilated shaft to the figment of my imagination.
