Page 70 of Along for the Ride

“Not yet,” Karson says, handing me his larger blade. He sits up, holds Mickey’s leg beneath his knee, and leans over, beaming at me with a sadistic pride. “You have to kill him, thief.” He rubs his hand over the left side of his chest. “Stab here if you want him to die quickly.” His hand lowers to Mickey’s gut, beneath my writing. “Or here if you want him to suffer.”

I bring the blade to both spots, trying to decide what feels right. Memories flash in front of my mind, and I’m forced to relive everything Mickey has done to me. The things that put the bruises on my body. And on my soul. The drugs he filled me with, the way he kept me sick so I couldn’t leave. Yeah, I suffered plenty at his hands.

I drive the knife into his gut, and he lurches forward, his eyes wide. His body puts pressure on the blade as he squirms, and I’m thrilled to imagine all the ways it must be tearing up his insides. Blood sputters from his mouth, and I pull the blade from Mickey’s flesh and run my fingers over the slick crimson marking the steel.

Karson stands up, unzipping his pants in front of me. “I know Gentry says we can’t take, but if I don’t get inside your mouth, thief, I’m going to burst. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.” He gathers the hair at the base of my neck, and I raise my chest and grip his thigh as his cock springs from the fabric. “Let me feel your lips around me.”

Too weak to move, Mickey stares at the scene playing out above him with glassy eyes. “Lee,” he murmurs.

“Surprised she lets two men like us inside her, yet she hated every moment with you?” Karson says with a laugh. His hand wraps around my throat and tugs me into his pelvis, and I take his cock into my mouth. The barbells tap my teeth as he pushes to the back of my throat with a feral groan. He thrusts against my face, but I feel his heightened excitement with every pulse of his hips. “I’m going to come,” he growls, and he draws his cock back to fill my mouth fully. “Don’t swallow,” he says as he pulls out of my mouth.

I fucking hate holding come in my mouth, but I do as he says because I’m curious to see what he’s planned.

Karson cranes Mickey’s head, holds his jaws open, and gives me a sick smirk. “Spit my come in his fucking mouth,” he commands.

Gentry pulls out of me. “Keep your thighs together, wanderer, and don’t leave a drop of me behind on his body.”

I squeeze my legs together as I scoot forward and lean over Mickey’s open mouth. His eyes are fixed on me, his breath coming in ragged, gulping gasps as death tightens its hold. I move closer, until our lips nearly touch, and I spit Karson’s come into his mouth.

Karson rubs Mickey’s throat with a gloved hand as if he’s trying to make a cat swallow a pill. “Gulp it down,” Karson says. “Be a good boy and swallow my come. I want my taste to be on your tongue when you meet the devil for what you did to her.”

Instead of swallowing, Mickey takes another heaving breath and sucks the come into his windpipe. His body moves on autopilot and tries to expel it with a weak cough, but that only pushes more blood from the wound in his abdomen. After a few more garbled gasps, he stills.

Karson shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk. If you had swallowed it, you wouldn’t have choked to death. What a shame.”

I climb off Mickey, and Gentry zips up his jeans and takes a step toward me. He puts his hand between my legs, gathers the come that dripped down my thighs, and pushes it back inside me. He pulls me into him, with his fingers buried deep within me.

“No matter who touched you or who came inside you, you’re still ours. And we’ll show you that.” His arm wraps around me and he pulls me against his chest. “I’d do anything for you.”

“We’ddo anything for you,” Karson adds as he fetches my jeans from the coat closet.

The fact that these men get so turned on by homicide is incredibly alarming. There’s a sick excitement that riddles them with joy as it maps its way through their veins. It’s sick. It’s disgusting.

But I’m beginning to understand that carnal desire.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

Karson

When we get outside, the dog is still waiting in a down position. Its hind legs wiggle as it watches Gentry, waiting for the release command. Gentry says another German word, and the dog rushes toward him and sits at his leg, looking up expectantly.

“Did Gentry befriend an attack dog?” Leana asks.

“I know. It’s embarrassing,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s cute.”

When Gentry gives the dog a quick pat, she thinks she can do the same. I grab her by the waist and pull her into me. “He can pet the murder mutt, but that doesn’t mean you should,” I scold. I can’t have her getting mauled after all we went through to get her back.

I refuse to be as open and vulnerable as Gentry, but Iamreally glad we rescued her. Not just because she lets us do fucked-up things to her or because she doesn’t react the way others do around us. But because Ilikeher. I like the person I can be around her. The way I can be around Gentry because of her. She brings out something warm in two very cold killers.

“You destroyed the cameras, right?” Gentry asks as he turns toward us.

“Not only did I destroy the hard drive, but I also took it with me,” I tell him as I pull the mangled plastic from my pocket. “Can’t recover what isn’t there.”

Gentry fights a smile. “Why is that one of the most intelligent things you’ve ever done?”

“I don’t tell you everything I do, and I’m not as stupid as you think.”

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