Natural Born Killers (Sick Boys Book 3)

by Lucy Smoke

  knife from her grip and fold it inward. I slip it into my pocket and then circle

  the chair.

  Slipping a hand under the back, I leverage the chair up and back on all

  four legs before striding back to Avalon. She takes my hand silently and lets

  me help her up. The front door opens and Brax strides back into the room.

  "They'll be here within the hour," he answers my unspoken question.

  I nod and then hold out a hand. He knows what I want. Brax smiles as he

  withdraws a gun from the small of his back and places it in my palm.

  "Avalon," I say again, my voice low, barely above a whisper. "It's time."

  Cool, grey-blue eyes lift to meet mine as I press the gun into her hand.

  Her fingers curl around it and she tips her head back even more, her

  lashes lowering until barely a slit of her eyes is visible through their dark

  shadows. Her lips part and she releases a slow breath. "Kiss me," she

  commands.

  A smirk appears on my face. I couldn't fucking fight it even if I wanted

  to. Reaching up, I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers. My tongue moves

  into her mouth as her arm lifts. She doesn't even look at Corina as she pulls

  the trigger, and the loud explosion of the gun going off in her grip is damn

  near silent next to the raging desire I have for her. The guttural, pain filled

  moans cut off in an instant and there's nothing left except blessed quiet and

  the sounds of Avalon's breath against mine.

  Carefully, I extract the gun from her grip and hold it out. Braxton's hand

  brushes mine as he takes it back. I hear his chuckle as he backs out of the

  room—fucker. He said the cleaners would be here in an hour, that means I've

  got that fucking long to see how often I can make my girl come next to the

  cooling body of the bitch who tried to hurt her.

  No one can destroy Avalon. She's beyond that. Beyond everything.

  Her arms arch up around my neck and her legs tense a split second before

  she jumps. As soon as she does, my hands find a grip right beneath her

  thighs. I back her up until her spine slams into a wall. She grunts into my

  mouth, biting down on my lower lip in retaliation.

  I smile against her little bite, shoving my hands up her shirt, feeling the

  warmth of her abdomen under my greedy fingers. I keep going until the

  undersides of her breasts are in my palms, and I push her bra up, capturing

  her nipples in my grip, and twist lightly. She gasps against me, her pussy

  grinding down against my crotch as I rub against her insistently.

  "How do you feel right now, baby?" I ask her.

  "Good," she answers, panting. "Strong. Powerful. Freed." Exactly how

  she should feel.

  "I'm glad," I tell her, nibbling a path down her throat as I pinch and twist

  her rosy nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. She groans, her head

  going back, smacking into the wall. That won't do, I think. I don't want her to

  hurt, not unless it's from me.

  I pull her back away from the wall, turn and go down on one knee.

  Avalon, being the woman that she is, doesn't release me even as her body

  moves down. She clenches around me, tightening her thighs as her ankles

  lock together at the small of my back. Her back arches and I hate the fabric

  between us. As soon as her upper back touches down on the floorboards, I

  reach down and rip it up over her head, snapping her bra's front clasp. Fuck

  that shit. She shouldn't be wearing that around me.

  My hands find her breasts again and knead them as her lips return to

  mine. Hot. Heavy. Without reserve. That's what we are. Avalon holds nothing

  back when my hands are on her. I lean down, lifting one breast up as I lick

  over the tip of her nipple and bite down. A moan escapes her throat, and

  beneath me her hips lift, rubbing her cloth covered pussy against my dick.

  "Dean..." She says my name like it's a goddamn prayer, and it does

  something to me. I want that. I want her to pray to me. I'm already her king,

  but if I could be more—if I could be everything to this woman—I'd sell my

  fucking soul. I want to be her god.

  "Tell me what you want, Babe," I whisper, against her flesh, blowing air

  across her nipple and watching it harden under my ministrations. "Use your

  words."

  Her hands clench in my hair, jerking my head up as she glares down her

  chest at me. I smile. "Don't fucking patronize me, Dean," she hisses. "I want

  you to fuck me."

  "You want me to fuck you?" I repeat, amused. "Right here? Right now?

  Braxton's outside, you know? If you come screaming on my cock, he'll

  probably hear you."

  "I don't care," she responds.

  "Oh?" I turn my cheek, peeking across the room at the body of Corina

  Harrison. It's empty—void of life—slumped over with her eyes wide open

  and staring at nothing. "What about that?" I ask. "You want to fuck right next

  to a dead body?"

  Avalon parts her lips and lets out a laugh. So loud and strong that it

  makes me blink. When she's finally done, amusement still twitches at her lips

  and she looks back at me. "Are you scared?" she asks. "'Cause I'm not. I'll

  fuck you in her blood if you want me to."

  My stomach clenches at that offer. I can picture it. Avalon covered from

  head to toe in blood, smiling at me as she lifts a hand out towards me. Fuck,

  I'm so fucking done. I don't give her an answer. I can't. Because the image in

  my own mind makes me go crazy. Psycho. Lost. That's what I am for her.

  Our mouths clash, teeth clanging together, moans slipping from my throat

  to hers and back again. She writhes under me as I divest her of her clothes.

  Her nails cut into my flesh as she does the same to me until the two of us are

  rolling across the floor naked. We've shifted and moved so much that we're

  much closer to the corpse than before. I don't care.

  I put my hand down and nearly slip when blood touches my palm,

  making it sticky and wet. Avalon shoves me onto my back, pushing my spine

  into a pool of that blood as she climbs on top of me. She takes my hand and

  guides it to the place between her thighs, moaning and undulating on top of

  me as I finger her clit.

  "Dean," she pants, "I need you. Now."

  I need her too, so I don’t waste any more time. I can't. Not now. I lift her

  and settle her over the head of my cock. Her pussy catches me and holds me

  as she sinks slowly down over me. Her head tips back until I can feel the ends

  of her dark, ink-like hair brushing against the top of my thighs. She's so

  beautiful like this. Riding me into oblivion.

  She clenches down, her addictive cunt gripping me as tight as a vise—

  almost like she's afraid I'll pull out and shove her away. I wouldn't do that.

  Not to her. "Fuck me, baby," I urge in the most guttural tone I've ever heard

  in my life. It's hard to speak past the lust crawling through me.

  I palm her stomach and reach down to pinch her clit as she begins her

  ride. She shudders but begins to move faster. Her hips shift up and down and

  back and forth as she takes me to fucking paradise. My hands are covered in

  blood and they leave marks across her pale skin. Smudges of red and brown

  over her tits, her thighs, her abdomen, and
hips.

  Playing with her clit makes her go wild. She gasps and moans, her eyes

  tightening as her head comes forward once more. I release her and palm the

  back of her skull, leaning up to suck on her bottom lip. She bites me again—

  angry that I've stopped. I laugh. I can't help that her little aggressive actions

  turn me on even more. My little psycho. My savage queen.

  "Come on, baby," I taunt her. "You wanted my dick, now you've got it.

  What are you gonna do with it?"

  Her eyes meet mine as she glares at me. Her hands shoot forward, one

  gripping my throat as she presses down and continues to ride. "Shut up," she

  growls, but her pussy never stops its momentum. She's fucking close. Riding

  my cock for all it's worth. I can feel my own orgasm rising to the top of this

  precipice we're on, but she's not quite there yet and I won't go over without

  her.

  A groan bubbles out of my throat. Fuck, I'm gonna come. "Ava," I

  wheeze out. Her hand clenches down against my throat harder, until no air

  passes through. Oh fuck, that's hot. Watching her ride me as the edges of my

  vision flicker. I know exactly what she's feeling right now. She's feeling like

  she's on top of the world, all powerful, as her tiny little hands cut off my

  airflow. I know because I've done this for her before. It's hot. It's irrefutable.

  It's dangerous.

  I clench my teeth and force back my orgasm as my hands tighten at her

  hips and pull her down harder on my cock. She's no longer riding me so

  much as I'm forcing her onto my dick, shoving her down until I swear I'm

  gonna bruise her insides. She doesn't hesitate or flinch though when I mouth

  the word "harder" to her. She smiles and reaches up with her other hand,

  holding both over my throat as I fuck her hard, pulling her onto my cock until

  her grip weakens. I just need her to come before I pass out. That'll be enough.

  That'll be like reaching the perfect fucking high.

  It's right there—just out of reach. I'm gonna hit it. I know I am. As soon

  as Avalon cries out and her hands loosen their hold on my throat entirely, I

  feel her pussy spasm and clamp down on my cock.

  "Fuck!" I grunt as oxygen reinvades my lungs. I grit my teeth as I come

  hard, filling her up from the inside until I feel the wetness between her legs

  leak out across my thighs and she slumps over, her breasts smacking my

  chest as she gasps for air.

  Her hair smooths over my skin, the dark strands all that I can see as I lay

  there and try to catch my own breath. Without thinking, I reach down and

  finger a strand of her dark hair between my thumb and forefinger. I bring it

  up as I close my eyes and press a soft kiss to it.

  Every time with her is like the first time. Every time is new, fresh, and

  exhilarating. In a thousand years—in a million—I don't think I'll ever find

  another woman like Avalon Manning.

  39

  AVALON

  MONEY REALLY DOES EQUAL POWER, I ACKNOWLEDGE HOURS LATER AFTER

  we’ve showered off the remains of Corina’s blood and gotten changed into

  clothes Abel brought to us. We didn't even need to dump Corina's corpse. I

  won't ever need to lay eyes on her again. She's gone. Done. And now it's time

  for me to move on.

  When Braxton, Dean, and I get back to the hotel, Abel is waiting. We

  check out and get back to the SUV to start the drive back to Eastpoint. Maybe

  it should bother me that we all act so goddamn casual after our latest torture

  and murder, but it doesn't. Hell, I'm officially a regular offender now.

  First, Roger Murphy. Second, my mother. Now, Corina Harrison.

  I'm a serial killer.

  The thought makes me chuckle as Dean speeds down the highway. His

  head tilts and he casts a curious look my way. I shake my head and reach out,

  taking his hand in mine. I feel the muscles under his skin jump when I do and

  frown at him before realizing the tops of his ears are turning red. He

  refocuses his gaze through the windshield and I'm left holding back even

  more laughter.

  A little over an hour later, as we pull up to the front of the Carter

  Mansion, I spot a black sedan parked in front of the doors. The easy, relaxed

  air within the SUV evaporates, leaving behind only tension.

  "Who's that?" I demand.

  Dean pulls his hand from mine as he steers the SUV around the smaller

  car and towards the garage. "Stay in the car," he orders.

  "Dean?" I stare at him, but he merely shakes his head and throws the

  vehicle into park. I'm too stunned to do anything but follow his command as

  Dean rips the keys out of the ignition. He and the guys slip out of the car and

  approach the unfamiliar car. The driver's side door opens and a tall, elderly

  man steps out.

  He doesn't look particularly dangerous, but then again, neither do I, I

  suspect. His wrinkled face shows no emotion as Dean, Braxton, and Abel all

  stride towards him. There isn't a single relaxed bone in any of their bodies

  now. Each of them approaches slowly and with reserve, as if they're

  expecting an attack at any moment. I glance around the front of the house,

  scanning—trying to see what the hell they're so freaked out about.

  When I don't find anything, I return my attention to the old man and the

  sedan. The man is speaking, his expression stoic and emotionless. With the

  dark gray hair and the unwrinkled business suit he's wearing, I expect that he

  must work for one of the guys' fathers. But which one? They all seem

  irritated by his presence.

  I study Dean's body language as he shifts to the side, his profile to me as

  his eyes remain on the unknown man. Abel is speaking, shaking his head and

  clearly agitated. His dad? I wonder. But then the old man says something and

  turns to Braxton. Braxton frowns as he listens, but his lips never part and he

  doesn't say anything. When the old man is done, Brax merely turns to Dean

  and gives him a look that obviously says 'how do you want to handle this?'

  Irritation flares to life inside of me. I don't like sitting on the sidelines. In

  fact, I fucking hate it. Tapping my fingers against the inside of the passenger

  door, I debate what to do. When several minutes go by, I curse and reach

  down, unclipping my seatbelt. I reach for the door, intending to get out and

  demand to know what the fuck is going on. The second my hand lands on the

  door handle, however, a loud snick echoes in the interior of the vehicle.

  My lips part in shock. No. No, he fucking wouldn't. I raise my gaze

  slowly, sure that I've mistaken that sound, but Dean's head is turned towards

  me, a scowl on his face. Yes, he fucking did. He shakes his head at me and

  then pivots back to the old man.

  There must be something wrong with me, brain damage perhaps from

  some unknown source, because despite knowing what that look meant, I can't

  help but try the handle. Yup, it's locked. I reach up and click the unlock

  button and hear the lock snick back into place almost immediately. My gaze

  lifts back to Dean, but his eyes aren't on me. How the fuck is he doing this?

  I grip the handle and yank, but it's useless. "You motherfucker..." I let out

  a low half-laugh. Big fuckin
g mistake, D-man, I think. As soon as I get out of

  this fucking SUV, I'm going to tear his ass to shreds.

  Minutes later, red faced and growing more pissed with each passing

  second, I give up on trying to get out of the vehicle. And it seems no sooner

  do I fucking stop beating against the side of the fucking car and rocking it—

  not that the old man or the guys ever cast a look my way as I tried to get out

  —the locking mechanism inside the door snaps open.

  My attention lifts to the guys and I gape as I watch Abel and Braxton

  walk towards the back of the sedan—Abel in obvious anger, kicking up dust

  and pebbles as he storms towards his door, and Braxton with a cold

  expression. Dean sighs as the old man gets into the driver's seat and then

  finally turns back to me.

  I pop open the SUV door, slipping out until the soles of my sneakers hit

  the pavement. Something's wrong, I think as I watch the sedan back out of

  the driveway, turn around, and head towards the road.

  "What the fuck is going on?" is the first thing I say as Dean moves

  towards me.

  "Their fathers have called them to come home," Dean says through gritted

  teeth.

  I shake my head. That doesn't make any fucking sense to me. Their home

  is here. Dean stops at my side and then reaches past me to close the door to

  the SUV. "Don't worry about it," he says quietly. "Let's go inside."

  I look up at him. "Sure, but there's just one thing I need to do first."

  Dean's head pivots towards me and my fist catches his jawline just as he's

  almost fully facing me so he takes almost the entire weight of my rage.

  "Shit!" He curses, stumbling back a step or two.

  "Don't," I start, growling low, "ever. Fucking. Lock. Me. Up. Again."

  His face goes hard as he rubs his jaw. "I told you to stay put," he snaps.

  "You weren't doing what I asked."

  "I don't give a shit," I snap, marching past him. "Do it again, and we'll be

  right back here, doing this again."

  "I don't want you involved with that man, Avalon," he replies.

  My feet halt several feet away, and without thought, I spin back and stride

  towards him. As he straightens, my fingers lock into the front of his shirt and

  I shove him back until his spine slams into the side of the SUV. " I. Don't.

  Care," I hiss, glaring up into his dark, soil-rich eyes. "Never again. Do you