Page 32 of Haunt

I wonder if you’ll ever let me touch you in the ways I want to, beautiful boy.

“Do you come to me tonight of your own free will, Penelope Hart?” he asks me, voice deep, gravelly with the words.

“I do,” I say quietly, unsure what else to do, but he guides me, silently, with his eyes.

I feel safe.

“Do you willingly give The Obsidian your blood, your body, your womb?” I blink, my eyes widening, panic swirls in my gut,womb,but I answer in the way I know I need to.

Survival.

To be together.

I am lovesick.

“I do,” I almost whisper, voice cracking, but I keep my burning eyes on his.

So familiar, so not at all.

Billy drops his gaze, chin dipping, he looks up at me from beneath his thick curl of black lashes, mouthing the wordsgood girland it implodes my brain. Singes my skin. Lightning zips down my spine, and my breaths rush in and out of me.

The silver dagger he used earlier is passed back to him, the one he cut his hand with, the one he used to kill. It’s no longer stained, clean and polished.

“Do you mix your blood with mine willingly?” he asks me then, his voice dropping an octave. “Take me into you as I shall take you?”

He closes the same hand around the dagger once more, fingers curling into a tight fist.

“I do.”

He pulls the blade free, dripping red, he gestures to my left hand, and without thought, I lift it, offering it to him. The warmth of the wet blade touches the palm of my hand, my arm trembling, from muscle ache, nerves. Billy closes my fingers gently over it, securing it softly inside my palm.

“Ligare,”-to bind-he whispers seductively. “Say it, Nellie,” his hand over mine, the dagger in my fist.

“Ligare,”I echo, and then the blade is slicing through my flesh, too quickly for me to feel the lick of pain until it is completely pulled free.

I hiss, my hand still curled, Billy pries my fingers open, clasping his own bleeding hand with mine, our blood mixing. I feel him descend into me like a darkness, an infection, toxin creeping its way beneath my skin, seeping its poison into my veins like a drip feed.

This was the omen.

“Ligare,” he says loudly, his voice sharp, the word echoing back to him in the form of a chant by the other men, their feet stomping onto the stone.

I flash my gaze around the room for the briefest second, eyes snapping back to his, and then the dagger is clattering on stone as it’s tossed to the edge of the pool, and Billy is flipping me around. Back to his chest, his heart claps against my spine, his arms curling around my front, big hands cupping my breasts. His lips come to the shell of my ear, his breath ghosting down the side of my neck. My skin prickles, hands curling over his strong forearms.

“You did so good, Nellie,” he praises, and I feel my eyelids flutter, his words, the drug, the adrenaline, fear, all of it mixing into a deadly cocktail of lust. “Now we need to consummate,” he hushes, tickling the tendrils of my hair over my shoulder, it makes me want to laugh, a giggle bubbling in my chest. “Tobreed,”he whispers, and I melt back into him. “I don’t want any of these old fucks looking at you any longer than is absolutely fucking necessary. So this is gunna have to be quick, Little Lamb, or it’ll be their blood instead of this pool that we fuck in.”

A shiver tears its way down my body, legs trembling, his filthy words spitting through gritted teeth has the hair raising on the back of my neck, my pussy is dripping, pulsing. One of his hands slides over the front of my throat, up the side of my face, collecting my long, thick hair into his hand, he drags his grip to the very ends, and then begins coiling it around his fist. His knuckles grazing over my scalp as he exposes my neck.

His teeth sink into the side of my throat, and I groan loudly, arching back into him. A display, a show, for the audience I choose to block out by closing my eyes.

“Bend over, beautiful,” his voice ricochets down my spine, teeth sinking into my nape. “This is going to be quick,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose across the width of my shoulders. “I’m going to fill you with my cum, Little Lamb, but I want yours too.”

And then his free hand is snapping me forward, fingers splaying over my upper back, my forearms smash into the stone floor, knees crashing onto the slippery steps beneath the water. Billy crowds my back, cloaking me from view with his big body. His bleeding hand slides down my spine, over my cheek, pulling it hard, releasing it with a quick slap that has me shunting forward, my arse burning just above the lapping water. Massaging the stinging flesh, he chuckles lowly, dark and decadent, delicious.

Still holding onto my rope of hair. He brings his free hand into the water, I feel his knuckles graze against the back of my thigh, his knees planting on the step on either side of mine. He leans over me, the weeping tip of his cock brushing my inner thigh, smearing me with precum. I shiver, his lips sucking at the back of my neck and then he’s thrusting hilt-deep inside me.

A gasp escapes my lips, eyes squeezing tight before flying wide open. He pulls out, the drag of his cock against my inner walls making my head spin. And then he’s pushing back inside me with a hard smack of his hips. I groan, sinking my teeth into my forearm, the sting of the stretch almost too much for me to bear. A tear squeezes free, gliding down the side of my nose, dripping onto my lip as he pounds into me.

My walls squeeze around him, his impressive length knocking into the entrance of my cervix, and I can’t stop the desperate gasping sounds that fall from my throat. Billy tears my head back, my teeth ripping free from my arm with his grip in my hair. Blood on my tongue, lips parted, his sinks his own inside. Thrusting into me hard and fast, sharp claps of his hips against my backside. The water sloshing violently up the sides of the baptism pool, flooding over the edge into the display of red roses.

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