Page 32 of Written in Sin
He frees my cheeks before jerking my head back once more as he tangles a fistful of my hair in his grip. He places his free hand under my chin, pulling me further back to claim my lips with a messy kiss. When he breaks away, he’s panting and I can feel his hot breath against my skin.
“Come for me.”
His commanding tone is exactly what I need, and in the next second I’m doing just that. My pussy convulses around him, the heat building in my stomach finally explodes. My muscles tighten and pleasure washes over me, wave after wave, gripping his dick with each crash.
I feel the heat of his breath as he whispers in my ear, “You should thank me, baby. Tell me thank you for letting your sweet pussy feel so good.” He grunts each word out as he thrusts in and out of me.
I have to focus to get the words out right. “Thank you for letting me come.”
“Good girl.” He releases my face, pushing me back down. The pressure of his hand digs into my back and he drives into me.My body reacts to his harsh movements, and I stand on my toes, trying to push my body further to soothe the burn of the stretch his dick causes my insides. “Don’t you fucking move. This greedy little cunt isn’t done pulling every last drop out from my balls yet, so let her do her job and empty me.” I do exactly what he says, relaxing my body. Within seconds his hips are stuttering, and I feel his dick begin to twitch before he empties himself in me.
We stay like that for a while. My front across the washer and him stuck to my back. The thrum of our heartbeats start to mirror each other until he straightens and I feel him pull out of me; his hands gentle when he pulls me upright before he bends down and grabs my pants. His touch is tender now, a stark contrast to how his fingers were digging into me minutes ago. He helps me get dressed before tucking himself back into his jeans. When his arms lock around me, I feel so safe in his warm embrace as he brings me in tight against him, like I’m something he’ll never let go of—and at this moment, I know he never will.
His lips plant a kiss on my forehead, lingering there for a moment, and I can hear him murmuring something against my skin. “I love you.”
The words sink into me and my throat tightens as I try to swallow down the heat rising, but before I can stop them, tears begin to spill over. I lift my head, my eyes searching his like I’m looking for something—we both know I’m not. I’ll never have to look for anything again. I’ve found everything I’ll ever need, right here, in him. “I love you too”
A slow, relieved smile curves his lips before he pulls me into him again. They unmade me piece by piece. But he looks at me like I’m something whole, and when I’m with him, I feel like I am too.
Zed walks forward to open the door and sweeps his arm through the door frame, ushering me out. “Ladies first,” he sayswith a slight bow, winking as I walk past him. My smile and stomach both drop the second I step into the hallway. Brady is there, his arms are crossed and he has one foot propped against the wall, staring directly at me. His gaze lowers, and a smirk spreads across his mouth. I stop short and turn to Zed.
“We could’ve set out traps or something.”
Zed bumps into me from behind and doesn’t answer before stepping in front of me, his arm coming up like a shield. A slow, mocking clap bounces off the walls. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.” Brady’s eyes flick to Zed. I don’t have to see Zed’s face to know he’s burning a hole through him with his glare. I feel the way his muscles tighten beneath my hand resting against his back. Brady pushes off the wall stepping toward us. “I wonder… When it’s me fucking her tight little cunt, ramming my cock inside her ass, if she’ll sing as pretty for me?”
“If you fucking touch me you’ll be lucky if you can still piss standin—” I’m cut off by the satisfying crunching sound of Zed’s fist connecting with Bradys face. That’ll do it.
Their bodies tangle together as they fall to the floor and fists fly into one another. I stand there frozen for a few seconds, trying to figure out whose fist is whose, and which one of them is bleeding. Someone’s blood is creating a small puddle and they’re both slipping in it. Brady slams Zed against the wall, smearing red streaks across the surface. He pulls back hoping to land a hit, but Zed angles his body at the last second and his fist slams into the wall instead. Do I jump on Brady’s back and pull him off? I really don’t want to touch him.
My heart hammers as I rush toward them. Everything is moving too fast. Zed’s right side is slick with blood, and when he shifts his head to look at me, I realize I can’t see his left eye at all. His entire face is drenched in blood. His eyes are frantic as he tries to blink, attempting to clear his vision. I only catch aglimpse of white before it’s swallowed up by the crimson color again.
Brady follows Zed’s gaze. Straight to me. His mouth twists into a murderous grin. This motherfucker doesn’t even look human right now. He lets go of Zed and stands up. It’s sloppy, like the rest of him. His legs are unsteady, but his focus is locked on me. I watch Brady barrel in my direction, his bloody fingers reaching for me. I try to grab the doorknob to the laundry room when he lunges. I pull away from the door, barely dodging him just as Zed manages to push himself up, and my eyes are drawn to something in his fist. It catches the light, the material underneath the blood is… shiny?
Zed moves in a blur, slamming into Brady with full force. He shoves him hard, sending him staggering into the wall. A scream echoes in the hall when Zed pushes the object into Brady’s shoulder blade. I walk over to him and incoherent gurgles leave his mouth. I look down at Brady who is attempting to blink away the blood and sweat dripping into his eyes, then back to Zed.
“Maybe we can carve off his dick and feed it to the pigs. Would that count as cannibalism?” He was too busy focusing on me. He thought Zed was done. He thought wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zedediah
My legs are shaky and I feel like I’m drunk, but when I look up and see Brady staggering in Cat’s direction, that’s all my body needs to shift into overdrive. If he touches her—I catch a shimmer glinting to my left. Thank fuck.
I didn’t know if I had knocked the blade out of his hand after he sliced mine, but the fact that he didn’t stab me told me he no longer had it in his grip. Whether I knocked it out or his fingers lost their grip through the blood, it doesn’t matter. I pick it up and stand. My legs don’t feel like they belong to me, but they help push me in his direction.
My feet slide on the floor as I run right behind him and drive the switchblade into his back, using every ounce of force my body has left until the muscle resists my push to go deeper, harder. I can tell he’s in pain from his screams—well, that and the handle sticking out of his shoulder blade gushing blood. Cat is standing by the laundry room, eyes wide, the door barely pushed open. Straddling his back, I jerk the knife out. “You scream like a bitch,” I say while he shrieks.
He begins to thrash around, trying to buck me off of his back, so I hold the blade to the side of his throat, the sharp end digging into flesh. “Don’t you dare move a fucking muscle. Do you understand?” He doesnt reply so I push the tip in just enough to break skin and yell my question again, “Do you fucking understand?”
“Ye-yes.” Brady begins to sob. I slap the back of his head, an unspoken order for him to shut up. “Check the cabinets. Rope, cables. Bring me anything I can tie his hands with.” It’s painful to breathe.
Cat’s head nods before I watch her back disappear into the laundry room. I stay sitting on top of Brady, pulling his hands tight behind his back as I hear the rustling of cabinets opening and slamming shut. I can’t really make out what she has in her hands when she comes back out and tosses it to me, but thankfully I catch it. “Shit. I’m sorry. You can’t see well can you?”
“What gives that away?” It’s colder than I mean to be, but now isn’t the time. I twist the extension cord around my wrist before bringing his hands together.
I hear Cat under her breath. “That’s all I could find.”
“It’s fine, it’ll work.” Thankfully it’s a longer extension cord, maybe six feet or so. I begin twisting the green cord around his upper arms before working my way down to his elbows in an under-over motion, ending at his wrists. There’s still a little bit of length left so I just twirl the excess around his forearms.
