SinfulTruth

by Regina Cole

  His tongue plundered my mouth, leaving no space unexplored. Keeping one palm on my ass, he brought the other to my breast, fondling and squeezing the sensitive flesh that pebbled at the tip. Every slight movement made his shaft rub my pulsing clit and it torqued my passion to an almost unbearable level.

  My fingernails dug into his shoulders and I locked my legs tighter around him, trying to bring him inside me where we stood. He immediately tore his mouth away.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. He turned away from the bed and carried me to the corner of the room. “Keep your legs locked behind me and raise your arms above your head.”

  I obeyed his orders without question. In seconds, soft leather cuffs bound my wrists. A wide strap went behind me, supporting my spine. Loops went around each leg and another wide strap was cold on my ass. Verum smiled, his teeth as white as his eyes when he stepped away, leaving me swinging slightly, suspended by the ceiling and the soft leather straps.

  He palmed his hardness as he looked at me. I gripped the straps that suspended my arms above my head and arched, thrusting my breasts toward him. A low growl emanated from him and he stroked his cock harder.

  I smiled. “What are you waiting for?”

  As if he’d been waiting for the invitation, he dropped to his knees before me. Spreading my legs even wider apart, he buried his face between my thighs. I cried out, digging my nails into the leather straps as his lips, teeth and tongue began an assault on the slick, damp folds.

  He started low, dipping his tongue into the hollow of my body, then spread my pussy lips wide, giving him better access to my hidden places. He nipped softly at my inner folds, licking the tiny pains away.

  When his mouth traveled higher and his lips locked around my throbbing, aching clit, I cried out, “God, Verum, yes!”

  He sucked at the tight cherry, his tongue rubbing it. I fought my bonds, wanting so badly to hold his shaved head closer, to get that extra, tiny pressure that would send me over the edge of my orgasm. But the leather straps held tight and all I got for my efforts was another slight swing.

  He lifted his head and another rush of moisture soaked me as I saw his lips glint with my honey. “Do you want more?”

  “Please,” I whimpered, pushing my hips closer to him.

  He dived once more and thrust his tongue inside me as far as it would go.

  It was so good but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Not just more sex with him but that was a good start. I’d made such a fucking mess of everything before him. His control was something I could trust without reservation. That security was something I didn’t want to be without ever again, if I lived through the next few hours. But for the moment I needed all of him, very soon, or I’d die there, hanging from the ceiling, splayed open for Verum.

  With one last lick from the bottom to the top of my cleft, he stood and kissed me. The scent and taste of my body on his lips drove my passion even hotter and I gripped his torso with my knees as his mouth plundered mine. Our tongues dueled madly, the taste of Verum’s mouth and my pussy lingering on our lips. I rubbed my pussy against him as much as I could but the straps kept me from getting as close as I needed.

  His hands splayed across my chest as he kissed me, and he fondled my breasts passionately. It was almost rough now, both of us feeling the ratcheting desperation taking us over. He tweaked my nipples, rolling them between his fingers, then rubbed down, cupping my ass once again.

  He brought my dripping-wet pussy into contact with his shaft. I looked between us. His length lay perfectly in my slit, the smooth, dark head pressed at the apex where my clit screamed for more. The look I gave him was nothing less than desperate. I needed all of him, body and soul. A stranger he might be but he was my salvation.

  He pushed me then, making me swing, and we both groaned aloud as his shaft slid across my wetness.

  “I can’t wait,” I whispered desperately as his plum-shaped head thumped my clit hard at the return swing. “God, Verum, please.”

  With a heavy breath, he stepped away once again.

  “No,” I said, nearly ashamed of the ragged hint of tears in my voice. “Don’t leave me, please.” I meant so much more than sex. I just wished he knew it.

  Verum’s next step brought more empty space between us. Threads of darkness wound around the edges of my vision, threatening to return me…somewhere. I couldn’t remember where but I desperately wanted to stay with him. Verum watched me, his odd eyes emotionless as I dangled there, spread open and vulnerable.

  “Verum, I’m sorry. Please, I need you.” The tears ran down my cheeks unchecked now. I couldn’t stop them, no more than I could force Verum to fuck me as desperately as I needed him to. My body throbbed all over from his touch, burning hotly between my legs, and the pain threatened to take me completely if he didn’t…

  He smiled. Without moving closer, he reached out and took my leg. He pushed me forward and back, gently at first then harder, until I was moving much faster than before.

  He rubbed his cock as I moved, slow and smooth, matching the movements of my arc with his fist. Then as I swung backward, he let go and stepped closer.

  I swung forward quickly, gravity taking over without mercy, and we both yelled out as he plunged deep. He caught my hips and directed my swings, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into my pussy.

  I held on to the straps at my wrists for dear life. I was completely helpless as Verum fucked me but I felt empowered, as if nothing in the world could stop the two of us. It was so right, so good to feel his thick length sliding in and out, the soft weight of his testicles bouncing against my ass as he thrust, his palms as they gripped my hips.

  He bent quickly and bit at my nipple, smiling as I moaned.

  “More, Bryerly.”

  I arched my spine and he thrust faster, deeper within my pussy. His cock grew even harder and thicker, stretching me to my limits. My cries matched his thrusts, deeper, louder and more frequent as he moved. My body swung crazily, kept even only by his hands on me as I was suspended.

  He bit my other nipple.

  “Ah, fuck!” I screamed. I was so close to that orgasm. I reached for it with everything I had…

  And then he let go of my hip and reached between us. He pinched my clit with his thumb and forefinger, hard.

  I exploded.

  Shards of my consciousness went everywhere and my world went blood-red with pleasure. Nothing existed but Verum and me, there in that cocoon of intense passion. He was more than I’d ever dreamed of but no less than I needed. My inner muscles rippled, gripping his cock tighter and releasing with each pulse. Blood roared through my veins, making my pussy throb and spasm as I screamed my pleasure.

  “Yesssss,” he hissed and let himself go. His orgasm shot high and hot inside me, filling me with his response. He gripped me tighter, almost painfully, as he held me there to receive him but I didn’t care. It was right. It was so, so fucking right to be there in Verum’s arms.

  I let myself go, trusting Verum to keep me safe, both now and forever. Soft light fringed my vision and I let it carry me away.

  Chapter Eight

  A slamming door intruded into my consciousness. The scent almost made me black out. The coppery tang of blood and death surrounded me in the dark closet. I was alone, dressed, exactly the same as I’d been before.

  I’d dreamed being with Verum.

  I staggered to my feet, shoving the letterman jacket aside, and listened hard. No breathing, no voices, no sucking, chewing noises. They’d gone. I hope.

  My inner thighs burned, almost as if the dream had been real. Ignoring the tenderness of my body, I palmed the handgun with a wince.

  Come on, Bry. Get out of here.

  The closet door creaked open.

  I purposefully didn’t look at the middle of the living room. The splattered blood in my peripheral vision told me everything I needed to know and I didn’t want the burden of another murder victim’s truths. It was the same as the others. I made it almost to th
e kitchen before slipping in a puddle of blood. I grabbed without thinking at the jacket hanging on the knob to steady myself.

  The familiar green of the private school’s uniform met my eyes. The junior class crest was emblazoned on the front, its gold threads splattered with rusty blood spots.

  “Oh god,” I whispered, my eyes slamming shut. They’d killed a teenager this time.

  I didn’t want to look but at that point I had no choice. A glimpse over my shoulder was enough for the girl’s memories to slam into me like a semi.

  They’d snatched Crystal as she left the science building. She’d stayed late to tutor an underclassman and no one was around to see when Rafe grabbed her and held her still while Harold punched her in the temple with a set of brass knuckles. She’d gone down without even a whimper.

  She’d started to come to when they held the gun to her head. Her last thought had been of Katie, her twelve-year-old sister, who was waiting for her at home. They’d been planning to make cookies when Crystal got home from school. There would be no one to make cookies with Katie again.

  I left Rafe’s trailer at a dead run, nearly falling in the blood. The early dawn sun hit me as I threw open the kitchen door and sprinted down the steps. I’d been in that closet all night while a young girl was murdered only feet away.

  And you hated Verum for not stopping them, my inner voice sneered as sobs racked my chest. You’re worse than he is. They killed a kid and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop them. You’re a coward, Bryerly Robin Keats. A coward and a selfish bitch.

  I skidded to a halt beside the large oak where my bag was still hidden.

  My inner voice was right. I had been a coward. Instead of mind-fucking Verum all night, I should have used the weapon I’d had with me and tried to save her life. First my mother and now Crystal. How many people had to die before I stopped being so damn selfish?

  My shame drained away and my fear was replaced with something else. Something I would have been proud of, if I were capable of any kind of emotion now.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the spirits of the women I’d failed. “I’ll get you revenge, even if I have to die for it.”

  I shouldered my pack and headed into the woods toward Harold’s house. Even though I didn’t know why these things were happening, I’d seen enough of those memories to know my former stepfather had a lot to do with it. I’d hated him before for what he’d done to my mother, even though the authorities had dismissed the case. But now? There was no way I could let him live. The pistol’s grip felt warm and right in my palm as I stalked toward my mark.

  Harold lived on the other side of town. It was a long, cold walk through the woods that lined the country roads, taking most of the day. While I walked, I ate a granola bar and then an apple from my bag, washing them down with a bottle of water. I didn’t want anything to eat but I needed to stay sharp and the last thing that would help was bottomed-out blood sugar.

  I hadn’t been to the house since we’d buried my mother. She didn’t have a will so everything had gone to her husband, including the small brick home I’d spent my entire childhood in. I hadn’t wanted to see what Harold had done to the place so I’d bolted for college as soon as I could afterward. If not for Rafe and what I thought we had between us, I’d never have returned to this Podunk town. I’d never regretted it as much as I did now.

  When I got within a five-minute walk from the house, I set my pack on the ground. Stretching the kinks in my spine, I bent my knees. A crinkling sounded behind me as my jeans stretched with the movement. Curious, I felt in my pocket. Oh. The paper from Rafe’s.

  After pulling it free, I spread it out on the ground and knelt beside my bag.

  Syringes and female hormones.

  Dead women, all over town.

  They were ripping out their organs and eating them.

  All the organs in their abdomens.

  Reproductive organs. The ones that produced the female hormones.

  These men were consuming female hormones straight from the still-warm corpses of their victims.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to keep from throwing up. What possible reason could there be for this madness?

  Your mother. Donna. Crystal. Remember them. You promised, Bry. You owe them.

  I swallowed hard, nodded and pulled the gun free from my waistband. After making sure my bag was securely nestled, I headed to my former home. Sick shit was going down and I didn’t know why, but I was determined to end it.

  Like many country homes’, the front door of my childhood abode was very rarely used. It was that door I decided to slip through to surprise my former stepfather. The key my mother had hidden beneath a stepping stone was crusted with mud but it worked once I knocked the worst clumps free. I pressed my ear to the chilly wood before opening it.

  Angry, masculine voices sounded from far away. They were in the opposite end of the house. Definitely Harold but someone else was with him. I bit my lip, uncertainty suddenly churning.

  I’d not planned on confronting multiple people. I’d thought, stupidly, that Harold would be home alone. I’d pictured myself sneaking in to the den where he’d be snoring in his ratty recliner, an ash-lined cigarette butt dangling from his cracked, leathery lips. The yellow lamplight would glint off his bald head as I raised my pistol. It was right. It was justified.

  But now what should I do?

  My grip tightened on the gun. No matter the personal cost, I had to stop them and figure out why they were doing this. After all, I thought as I turned the knob and crept into the front sitting room, there might be more monsters—men who are sick like them.

  No matter what else had happened between me and Verum, he had given me a gift. The truth. I’d stare down Harold and whoever was with him and discover what else they’d done. Hopefully Verum was wrong and their motivation would be clear. I needed the reason. Without that, I had no way to prevent it from happening again. Except to kill them before they killed me. And for a single woman with a handgun, that seemed pretty unlikely.

  Cold steel lined my backbone and I pushed the door shut behind me with a nearly inaudible click.

  The living room, once filled with my mother’s most prized furniture, was completely empty now. I ignored the lump of painful nostalgia in my throat and crept toward the voices coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t afford to think of my mother. It would cost me focus and quite possibly my life.

  The hallway stretched out, the only thing separating the murderers from me. I pressed myself to the wall that used to hold my school pictures and listened.

  “You fucking idiot. It’s not enough.”

  “Listen, Harold, it was all I could get. My credit cards are maxed out and Davis’ are too. Frankie’s up in Alexandria. He tried to steal more from the hospital but they caught him. We don’t have the money to make bail. If he doesn’t get some for himself…”

  Harold’s voice cut through Rafe’s whine. “He’ll have to deal with the consequences. If he’d been taking care of things like he was supposed to, he’d be more than capable of getting out. He’s weak because he chose to be. I told you all when you were given this, the price it carried. We’ll have to take more from living sources.”

  I fingered the trigger, still pressed to that wall, not breathing.

  “Living sources are getting harder to find. That high school girl is gonna be missed soon.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Without these hormones, we’ll be deader than dead. With them, the fucking world is our oyster. I don’t give a shit how you get more, but get more. Now.”

  The scraping of a kitchen chair was all the warning I had before Harold’s face appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Hello, asshole,” I said calmly and shot him straight in the heart.

  The pistol’s kick surprised me and I stumbled. Harold smiled as blood spread in a thick ring around the bullet’s entry hole.

  “Well, hello there. Hey, Rafe, c’mere. I think our little problem just go
t solved.” Harold walked toward me, his grimy teeth stained and brown as he grinned. Blood completely soaked the left breast of his shirt now but he didn’t gasp or stagger and fall. He kept coming.

  Images of his actions assaulted me, threatening to overcome me. He’d killed so many women but the first, and the one my brain kept showing me, was my mother. Her pain lingered, saturating the walls of the house surrounding me.

  Desperate tears lined my cheeks. I shot him again, this time in the stomach. He paused then kept coming. Again and again I fired, peppering his torso with bullet holes. He didn’t pause anymore.

  He was only three feet away when the trigger clicked. My weapon was empty.

  I turned and ran the way I’d come, fear closing my throat. I’d shot him at near point-blank range six times. He hadn’t died! He was supposed to die! He couldn’t be human. A human would be dead three times over by now. He was some kind of monster…

  I bolted into the living room. Arms wrapped around me cruelly, crushing the air from my lungs as Rafe’s body fell atop mine. I was trapped.

  Blood matted my hair. The sticky mass itched as it dried to the skin of my forehead. I hung limp from my bonds, suspended from a beam in the ceiling. I’d long ago stopped trying to get free. My wrists were torn and bloody from the rope’s rough tension around them. My body, aching and bruised, no longer had the strength to scream, to curse at my captors, to beg them to free me.

  For the moment, I was alone in the shed behind my mother’s house. It used to house tools, the lawnmower and my uncle’s old minibike. Now empty of all those things, it had been transformed into a makeshift torture chamber. When Harold and Rafe had first brought me here, I’d tried not to notice the old bloodstains on the walls, the rotting wooden floor. Since then the dark spots been covered with fresh, new splashes of bright crimson blood. Mine.