Page 9 of Brutal Bond

Undoing one of the cuffs around her wrists, I move her hands behind her back and secure her momentarily freed arms. I press my hand between her shoulders and bend her over the edge of the bed. As I push her onto the mattress, I nuzzle her face between one of the blonde’s thighs.

Without hesitation, she licks at the cunt before her. She works the girl beneath her with a skilled finesse. Her tongue swirls, thoroughly pleasing the blonde; I press my tip to her still-dripping entrance and slip inside her with ease.

“You’ll be leaving with my handprints on your ass and a sore fucking cunt.” Fisting her hair, I press her firmly into the blonde’s cunt, and I’m intrigued by the fact she doesn’t fight me. But not nearly enough to keep me from driving myself repeatedly into her.

Fucking perfection.

Gripping the cuffs between her wrists, I use them for leverage to take her harder. Driving into her, deep and hard, she groans into the pussy she’s eating for me. I roughly spank her ass with my free hand, and she moans as she quivers around my cock. “That’s it, show them how much you fucking love my pain. Let them see what a dirty little slut you are for me.”

I pull from her and grab a bottle of lube from the bedside table, slathering a generous amount over my cock. Squeezing it over her, I drip the cool liquid down the crack of her ass. She startles as it hits her skin, and it causes her rosy cheeks to clench. I rub my thumb through the lube and massage it around her hole until she relaxes. She tightens for a second when I press the fat tip of my cock against her tight hole, whimpering as I slowly stretch her to accommodate me.

I’m not a fucking monster.

“Let me in, Harper,” I murmur as I rub my hand along her hip, and the head of my cock presses inside of her. I still for a minute before sliding into her tight ass until I’m fully buried inside of her. Panting, as I try to control my need, I give her a few languid strokes before needing to stop. My voice is pained and breathy as I grunt, “Use her cunt to muffle your screams because I’m not going to be gentle.”

I couldn’t go easy any longer if I fucking tried.

Relentlessly, I slide out and slam my hips against her ass with a groan—hers and mine. Repeating the hard, deep thrusts, I fill her with my cock as I riddle her ass and thighs with my handprints. She comes for me again and again, loving every fucking second of the ache on her skin and the pleasure in her ass.

She’s too fucking perfect.

I slow my hips, trying to prolong the inevitable, wanting to stay buried inside her for the rest of the night. Fucking her and taking in the glorious work of art I’m making of her scarlet-painted ass. Perfect and rosy. But it’s too late. I bury myself inside of her with a feral groan, filling her with my cum. Pulling out my still spasming cock, I paint a ribbon of my seed on her thigh.

I slide my hand through the trail of cum running down her leg. Gathering it on my index and middle fingers, I plunge one into her cunt and smear it along her walls. Pulling it from her, I snake my arm under her tits, lift her from the bed, and pull her to my chest. Wrapping my hand around her throat, I tip her face up to mine.

“My perfect little rose.” I slip my fingers into her mouth and rub the remainder of my cum over her tongue. “I want you leaving with my marks on your ass, my cum in all your perfect fucking holes, and the taste of me on your lips.”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

DETECTIVE MICHALES

When Mia Dillon walked into the precinct to file a report about being sexually assaulted in the Rusty Anchor parking lot, I thought I might finally have my way in to pin something on these rich, arrogant assholes.

Sam.

Rich.

Cocky.

Conceited.

Dark Hair.

Fancy black sports car.

It took me only a few minutes after her interview to know with all certainty that Samuel Millington was the man she was describing. She was going to be the one. The piece of the puzzle that finally connected Samuel, Grant Geyer, Edmund Parker, William Cattaneo, and Elizabeth Beaufort to the string of women disappearing from my formerly quaint small town. Right up until she disappeared in the middle of the night without a fucking trace.

Just like the rest of them.

When I followed Samuel Millington last night, I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I watched him and all of his devious friends arrive at an old estate on the outskirts of town. Sneaking onto the property, I could never have imagined what I would stumble upon.

Hearing screams and peering into the window, I found Edmund Parker in the midst of a foursome. Three women bound in handcuffs devouring each other as though their lives depended on it—which they probably did—while he enjoyed all of them.

I’ve been watching the video I recorded last night. A countless amount of times. On my phone. Then, on my laptop. Over and over for evidence.

Edmund relentlessly pounding into a petite little redhead while shoving her face into the pussy of a blonde. He strikes her already bright red ass as he slams into her, leaving crimson handprints across her flesh. She screams for him repeatedly, but not for him to stop.

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