Page 4 of Soulless Saint

Kaleb’s tatted arms rested lazily over the back of a dark sofa facing the other way, his sun-stained brown hair messy. His head lolled back, hands fisting the leather.

I stalked toward him, hearing a sucking sound, followed by a gag and a low female moan. Kaleb’s eyes were shut as the little brunette knelt between his thighs, her head bobbing up and down on the head of his cock as she worked the base with a manicured hand.

My brother’s lips parted on a silent exhalation of pleasure, and I kicked the couch.

He jerked, but didn’t open his eyes, moving a hand instead to the back of the girl’s head, guiding her to take his thick cock more deeply into her throat. She gagged on him again, but she didn’t fight him, even as he fisted a hand into her hair and held her there, thrusting up into her throat until her cheeks turned red.

I kicked the couch again.

“What the fuck, man…” Kaleb slurred, letting the girl get a gulp of air. She gasped as her lips popped off his dick, and he cocked his head at her, reaching forward to run a thumb over her glistening lower lip. “Did I tell you to stop, Poppy?”

“It’s Pippa,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

“Kaleb,” I hissed, heat fizzling across my back as I stepped around the sofa and gave the girl a hard stare. Her reddened, watery eyes met mine with a bolt of fear.

She disentangled herself from Kaleb’s grip and held a slip of red fabric over her naked tits, keeping her head bowed as she rose to her feet, collected her purse from the low table, and muttered a Sorry, Hardin, as she fled.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Kaleb said, fumbling an empty pack of cherry cigars from the small pocket on the front of his tank. “Shit, I’m out.”

I kicked his leg.

His face twisted into a sneer as the empty pack drifted to the floor to mingle with the empty scotch glass and beer bottles there. “What are you doing here?”

I lifted a brow at him. Was he fucking serious?

He lifted a brow right back. “What? The silent treatment? As fucking usual.”

It was my turn to sneer. He knew damn well why I wasn’t talking. My heated gaze darted to Sam behind the bar and back again.

“Shit, man,” Kaleb groused. “Sam doesn’t care if you have a—”

I dragged him from the sofa before he could finish, hauling his drunk ass onto his feet before he could say something he wasn’t able to take back.

Kaleb cursed as I towed him along with me, my fist in the back of his tank the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“Okay, okay, Christ, I’m going,” Kaleb grumbled as Sam nodded his thanks and farewell.

I kicked the door to the stairwell open ahead of Kaleb, and stepping out, he immediately gripped the handrails on both sides and swayed on his feet as he looked to the bottom.

“Shit.”

The door shut behind me, and I growled low. “I got you, just move your fucking ass.”

“He speaks!”

“Kaleb,” I warned, my stomach twisting, the shriveled thing in my chest aching for my brother.

As much as I fucking wanted to, it was hard to be pissed at him.

To everyone else, this was just how Kaleb sometimes got, but I knew the truth.

I knew why he needed to drown himself in expensive scotch, push himself to the edge of oblivion. But after the last time, nearly nine months ago now, I thought it was finally over.

Now I doubted it ever would be.

Some trauma stuck with you and Kaleb’s had fused itself to his bones like a demented shadow. Rearing its ugly head whenever it got hungry, feasting on whatever stability he’d managed to regain since its last meal.

---