Page 72 of Worse Than Wicked
Still, he’s the one who impressed her, which isn’t easy to do. He’s the one who defended her against her creepy abuser. He’s the one who killed for her.
I can’t compete with that, so I do the thing I know he never does.
“Come over here and sit on my face until your thighs quake.”
“Can I shower off first?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.
“No,” I say. “I want to taste how much murder turns you on.”
She approaches hesitantly, but when she reaches the bed, I lift her onto me in one swift motion. I shove her skirt up, pull her panties aside, and bury my tongue in her cunt. It tastes like blood and cum, and I realize someone else got here first.
“You fucked Baron?” I ask, looking up at her from between her thighs. But when I check the door, my brother’s gone.
Mabel nods, searching my eyes uncertainly.
“Then I guess we already know how much murder turns you on.”
I drag my tongue lazily through her slit from her hole to her clit, and she whimpers.
“Did you fuck on the body, like last time?” I ask.
She shakes her head. Her pigtails bob. Her teeth are sharp as glass, dripping blood.
I blink up at her, and she’s just Mabel again. “Or maybe thinking about doing this with the old creep turned you on,” I say. “Did he eat your pussy as good as me?”
“Let me go.”
“Or maybe the old guy just fucked you,” I say, swirling my tongue around her clit. “Does thinking about it get you wet, you little freak?”
I grin up at her, but she’s pale and frozen, unsmiling.
“I won’t judge,” I say. “Think about him while I’m eating you out if that’s what makes you cum.”
She tries to climb off, but I clamp my hands down on her thighs, dragging her down and plunging my tongue inside her.
“Please,” she whimpers, but I thrust my tongue deeper, harder, curling it inside her and making her quiver. I hold her pinned, making her sit and endure until she gives me what I want. When she’s climaxed, I finally pull her down on top of me after dragging off her panties and tossing them off the bed. I notice she’s crying, though I’m not sure if it’s just because I made her cum or because of what I said to her.
She tries to roll away, but I keep her pinned on top of me, refusing to let her go.
“Baron?” she whispers against my chest, her fingers brushing the scar through my shirt.
“What?”
“Are you really Baron?” she asks.
“Does Baron eat your pussy like that?”
“I thought only he could be that cruel.”
“You thought wrong,” I say, adjusting myself between her legs and pushing up into her. “Now sit up and ride me like you did for your grandpa all those years.”
eighteen
Mabel Darling
“What’s that?” I ask, peering over Baron’s shoulder at the derelict little ranch-style on his laptop screen. I set down a glass of sweet tea beside him on the picnic table, one of the four sitting out back around the ancient oak sprawling over the back porch and a swath of the yard.
“This is Jane’s house,” he says.
