“You’re wet for me.” I state.
“You’re a psychotic asshole.” She fumes.
With the knife still in my hand, I fall forward, letting it sink through her hair and back into the mattress. She gasps at the knife's close proximity to her face and I take her moment of confusion to sink my cum soaked fingers deep inside her.
She’s wet and her pussy clamps around my fingers, eager to suck me in deeper.
“Brody!” She stares up at me in shock. “You didn’t just do that.”
As much as her words are fighting me, her thighs drop open wider, and her pussy is fucking dripping around my hand. I pull out my fingers and thrust them back in, she tries but fails to hold back her moan.
I push my thumb up against her clit and begin to move it in tight circles. I want to see her come just once by my hand. Her face flushes red and her eyes roll back as I pick up speed. Her hips lift, giving me better access, and I slam my fingers inside of her harder and faster. Her pussy tightens as I feel her orgasm coming and I push my thumb harder against her clit.
Her head tips back on a scream as her pussy clenches around my fingers and the juices pool around my hand. The cut on her throat begins to drip faster as I watch her pulse beat against the skin and I lean forward to swipe my tongue through it.
I pull my fingers out and she looks at me while her breathing starts to slow back down. My hand is soaked and I grin at her as I stick the two fingers in my mouth. I taste her and I both and I slowly drag them back out.
When she finally comes to her senses, I watch as the horror of her actions slips over her features and I laugh as I push off of the bed.
“Your Papa is dead in the next room and you just came the hardest I’ve ever seen you come before.”
She grabs the scraps of fabric, pulls it around her body as she turns on her side and curls up into a ball. She’s not sobbing or crying, just laying there looking at the wall in silence.
“We have a problem.” His voice betrays nothing over the phone but I can't control how fast my heart picks up inside my chest.
“What do you mean?” I ask Brody.
“I need you to get over here and fast.”
“Kailey?” I ask.
“She’s fine.” He huffs. “Just get over here now.” He hangs up.
It’s late-I look at the time on my phone-just after three in the morning, and I huff as I get out of bed. There’s no way I’m ignoring a phone call from Brody, especially one of him stating he needs my help, and Kailey being in the same house.
I pull on a hoodie to cover the few bandages on my arms and hurry out to my motorcycle. It takes me about five minutes to get to Brody’s and I park my bike in a hurry.
All the lights are off and an ominous feeling comes over me. Nothing about this feels right and I am in a full blown panic when I race up his front steps and watch as the front door swings open.
“Where is she?” My words are clipped and my breathing erratic.
“Sleeping.” He approaches me from behind. “I need your help.”
I turn to face him and raise my hands in exasperation. “What could it be now, Brody?”
“Come upstairs. I need you to do that thing you did last time.”
Last time, last time when?
He opens his room door and I notice this time it’s not locked. The door swings open and the first thing I see on the floor is blood, a lot of blood.
“Where is she?” I scream as I push my way inside.
The room is empty save for the dead body on the floor. A man by the looks of it and I sag with relief.
“I told you, she’s sleeping.” His voice is even as he looks from me and back to the body.
“Is that…?” I walk closer to get a better look at the face.
“Mr. Richard himself.” Brody says smugly.
“Bro, please tell me you didn’t kill her father in front of her.” I let my head drop back on my shoulders as I stare at the ceiling.
“I didn’t kill him.” I whip my head around to stare at him as he shrugs. “She did.”
“You told her.”
“She wanted to know everything, so we started with this shithead.” He kicks at the body.
Now I know which last time he’s referring to. “You want me to dispose of him?”
“Yeah, then I can clean this up.”
“It'll take a few hours, so let's get started.” I groan.
Four hours later and I am standing outside of his parents’ room door stinking of bonfire and barbeque. I’m bone deep tired but I need to see her before I leave. The door creaks as it opens and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark. When they do, I don’t see Kailey anywhere. I step inside and walk over to the bed, there’s a ripped nightgown, a few drops of blood, and what looks to be a few locks of her hair.
He assured me she was fine and sleeping in here, but why the fuck did I believe him?
“Bebelle?” I call out into the empty room.
I scan the room for any sign of her when I catch a light on under one of the doors. I walk towards it and hear a soft sound of water falling. I open the door and step into a bathroom that can only be described as lavish.
There’s a large shower to the right, completely encompassed by glass, and no one under the spray. I open the sliding door and find Kailey sitting in the corner with her head to her knees and her arms wrapped around them.
“Bebelle?” I say softly.
Her head pops up and she begins to laugh, not one filled with actual mirth, no, this laugh is sending shivers down my spine. I pull up my sleeves and reach in to turn off the water.
“Cutting again, Zeke?” Her voice is condescending as she observes my newest bandages.
“Again?” I sneer back at her. “It never stopped.”
She stands up and then I growl when I see her body. She has bruises that look yellowed with age, maybe from Caine but it’s the carving over her breast and the puncture on her throat that has me pissed.
“I now have a few of my own. How ironic.” She begins to laugh again, the slightly maniacal sound piercing my chest.
Her fingers brush over the BL on her right breast and then up to the nick in her neck. I turn around and grab an over the top plush towel and hold it up for her.
“Why are you here?” She questions as she steps into it.
I wrap her up and grab another for her sodden hair. “Business.” I mutter
“Oh!” She snaps her fingers and grins up at me. “My piece of shit father, right? You do smell like fire and roasted Charles.”
This isn’t Kailey, she adores her father and I know what the piece of shit did, but should she be acting this way? Is there no grief?
“Yes, I helped Brody with the clean up.” I keep watching her face for a sign, any sign of remorse.
“Good,” she nods and steps out of the bathroom. “I hope he is restless for eternity in Hell. He killed Mama.”
“I know.” I say softly.