Page 66 of Bloody Quarter

Greyson

It had taken me less than a day to find Keith Cadieux and less than that to convince him to tell me where his brother lived. Every day, someone thought they were going to be the next star, the all-American dream, and in Keith’s case, an NFL quarterback. But, like most people, he never made it. I didn’t know his exact reasons. It could’ve been an injury, he might’ve gotten in trouble with the law, or the school sniffed out that he was going to bring drama to their door and dropped him. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Keith worked a dead-end job and spent his free time sitting around, yelling at the television.

From what I’d been able to gather in my short time in Keith’s home, he didn’t have a family, and if he had any kids, there were no pictures of them anywhere. The old farmhouse was stocked with beer, guns, and an alligator he was in the process of stuffing.

I’m sure that brings the ladies running.

Keith’s younger brother Johnny, on the other hand, seemed to have it all. He was married with two kids, a couple of cats, and a beautiful wife. Johnny worked at a fancy corporation, had a decent home with two cars, and, for whatever reason, still helped support his older brother. I couldn’t help wondering if there was some guilt trauma or maybe blackmail involved with their relationship because, from what I could tell, they weren’t close. Yet, the moment I used Keith’s phone to text Johnny, the guy couldn’t have driven any faster to see his brother. The bond of siblings was hard to break. Lennox wasn’t even related to me by blood, but to me, he was my brother, and if he needed anything, I would be there.

I glanced down at Alora as we stopped in front of the door to the mausoleum. She was as calm as if we were walking the beach on a romantic date, hand-in-hand. I’d never lose the vision of her crouched down in front of her sister’s tomb, her shoulders hunched like she was just waiting for the world to take its next punch at her broken heart. It was her tattered soul that had initially called out to me, but now the woman who stood by my side didn’t need me to mend the broken pieces. No, she was a different animal now. Alora had become the doll who held a knife in her hands and didn’t wait for someone to pull on her strings. She could stand all on her own. This version of her was, if possible, sexier than the person I’d fantasized about crushing.

Taking Yara from her hands, Alora gave me a questioning look as I sat her on the ground and looped the end of her leash over a decorative statue.

“What are you doing? Aren’t we going—” Grabbing a handful of her long hair, I crashed my lips to hers, and the question died on her lips.

“Fuck you taste sweet, Doll.” Releasing her hair, my hands cradled her ass, pulling her flush against my body. My cock was begging to invade her cunt and make her scream my name. Her voice would haunt anyone within earshot as it echoed like the dead were crying from their locked tombs. “I want you,” I growled, her eyes flaring with a mirrored passion.

“Right now?”

“Right now,” I answered, stepping closer and forcing her back up against the door. I smirked at the cross caved into the stone above her head.

“Why don’t I take the edge off to start,” Alora offered. My aching cock didn’t give a fuck what hole it was shoved into as long as it was in her. I nodded, my body shaking. She lowered herself to her knees, and as soon as she released the fly on my jeans, my cock sprung free and waved in the cool air. She licked her lips, and I grabbed her hair and pulled her head down. The craving to have her grew more potent by the second.

My legs quaked, and my ass flexed as I slipped into her hot mouth. The excitement of what was to come was driving me wild. Bracing my other hand on the door, I thrust my hips forward. Hitting the back of Alora’s throat, I groaned, and my hand tightened in her hair as the next thrust nudged a little further.

My doll’s eyes filled with tears, her fingers digging into my legs as I forced myself deeper with every thrust until I was pummeling her mouth. Her teeth scraped just a little, and I shivered with the touch of pain that felt as erotic as her tongue rubbing against the underside of my shaft.

“Fuck…so good.”

A gasp made me turn my head. An older woman stood in the middle of the row, her mouth gaping open as she clutched her hand to her throat like she was gripping her pearls.

“What the fuck are you staring at,” I asked as I yanked Alora’s mouth off my cock. She sucked in a deep breath as I twisted her head to look in the woman’s direction. With the tears running down her face, I doubted she could see a thing. “Get the fuck out of here, or you’re next,” I snarled. The old rage that used to control my every action tried to take over.

The old lady made the sign of the cross over her chest. “Blasphemy,” she muttered as she shuffled away.

I growled at Alora, but she was far from scared or worried about insulting anyone. The devil himself danced in her eyes as her mouth hung open, tongue out as she waited for me to fill her once more. Rubbing my cock on her tongue, I slid back into her mouth and gripped her head with both my hands. Her whimpers made me shudder.

Faster and faster, I slid home into the sweet warmth of her throat, the gagging sound only ramping up my urges. Her nose smacked into my stomach as she grabbed my balls and twisted them the way I liked. It was too much, and I came hard.

“Fuck, yes, take it all, Doll,” I growled as the stream of come hit the back of her throat. Her finger tapped my leg. There was no panic or fear behind the movement, but it told me what she needed, and at another time, I might have seen if I could push her further. Instead, I pulled out. I grabbed her chin while she coughed. Drool and a dribble of come slid from the corner of her mouth, and I licked up every last drop until she was clean.

She stared up at me as I took in her red, swollen lips, and my cock wanted more. Fuck. Pulling back, before I caved, I stuffed myself back in my jeans and then held out my hand to help Alora up. Her hair was a disaster, and her black eyeliner ran down her face in two morbid lines, but fuck she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. As if she knew what she looked like, Alora scrubbed under her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket.

“Stop, you’re sexy. I love that you look like you’ve been crying.”

“You would.” Her lip twitched up.

“We better go in before that old lady sends the cops or comes back for another look. She seemed to be enjoying the show.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what she was thinking,” Alora said, making me laugh, while I unlocked the door and pushed it open. She picked up Yara, who hadn’t moved the entire time. “I know this place has a damp smell, but I like it.”

“Just when I didn’t think you could get any sexier, you go and say something like that,” I teased as I moved the coffin aside and revealed the soft glow and stairs that led the way to Alora’s gift. I wanted to see her face when she saw what I got her. It felt like my birthday, and I was about to show off my presents.

Before we came to our final stop, I put Yara in her kennel with her favorite toy, a blanket, and a treat. Holding Alora’s hand, I guided her toward the last chamber and the main event. We stepped in, and I waited to see how she would react. Alora looked between the two men, but I kept my eyes trained on her. Recognition dawned for all of them at the same time, and a chorus of ‘Oh fuck’ rang out.

“Is that?” Alora pointed at the man strung up in the center of the room.

“Yes, it is.”