With a sigh, he sinks onto me, as if to feel as much of my bare skin as possible with his. His abdomen moves with mine, our breathing synchronized in a new kind of intimacy I haven’t felt before, not even when he was bringing me to orgasm. We lie there for a minute, two, ten. He finally softens inside me, his hardness no longer stretching my sore flesh to the limit but still filling me fully. And then, when he’s breathing deep and his weight relaxes onto me, crushing me in the best way, and I’m drowsy and considering if I’ll stay here on this bare mattress with this giant, dangerous man for a blanket, the door swings open.
My brother stands silhouetted in the doorway.
two
The Saint
For a moment, I consider turning and leaving, but I’m too angry to walk away now. I’ve seen what my sister is with my own eyes, and even though a few hours ago, I was saying I couldn’t do it, fury still pounds in my brain that someone else did. ThatAngeldid.
“Saint,” Mercy cries, trying to squirm from under my best friend’s body, as if she can talk her way out of this, pretend it was something other than what it is. Pretend she’s still pure and innocent, make some excuse about how she fell down on his bed naked and he fell on top of her, and his pants slipped off in the process. That’s the kind of lie she’d tell, expecting me to believe it. But I don’t believe her anymore.
“Oh, hey,” Angel says, lifting his head and twisting it around to give me a sleepy, post-nut grin.
“Get the fuck off my sister.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, rolling off her on the far side, so I can see every inch of her used body.
Strawberry blonde hair strewn across the pillow instead of in its usual severe knot. Red lips swollen from kissing. Blue eyes wide and beguiling. Rosebud pink nipples on full, perfect tits. Soft, flat stomach, hipbones just hinted at. The swell of her fat little mound. Her stretched, wrecked, torn pussy leaking cum and traces of blood.
She sits up and covers herself with one arm while she fumbles across the bed for a blanket, but it’s heaped on the floor. They fucked on a bare mattress like animals. I shouldn’t expectanything more from Angel. Normally, I wouldn’t. But this isn’t some slut who followed him home after a party, freshly shaved and perfumed, tits on display all night, a butt plug already in place in case whatever guy will take her wants anal.
This is my fucking sister.
The sacrifice.
I slam the door on that thought. Just because she’s supposed to be our willing sex slave this semester, that doesn’t mean he can disrespect her like that.
Looking at him, though, I see that he thinks he can do exactly that. He’s wedged onto the edge of the small bed, his arm tucked behind his head, looking self-satisfied and implacable as always. He strokes his cock with his free hand, slowly jerking himself off while he watches our exchange. If Mercy weren’t here, I’d punch his teeth in, but I don’t want her to know how pissed I am. I don’t want her to know I care at all.
To know I think that she’s worthy of so much more than respect—worlds more. She is worthy of fuckingworship.
“Looking for this?” I ask, strolling over and picking up the blanket like I’m less affected than arrogant, apathetic Angel North.
I hold it up, and Mercy snatches it and drags it over herself, as if I haven’t seen everything I needed to see already. I hold onto it a long moment before releasing it and shaking my head at her in disgust.
“Saint,” she says faintly, her eyes wide with trepidation and desperation.
“Yes, little sister?” I ask, my voice grinding the words out like broken glass.
“I didn’t—it wasn’t—”
“It wasn’t what it looked like?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“No,” she cries, her voice cracking. “It wasn’t. It isn’t.”
“So you didn’t just fuck Angel on a bare mattress like a desperate cumslut?”
“No!”
“You didn’t climb on his lap and spread your pussy open in his face and then sit on his dick?”
“I—”
“But you couldn’t get it in, right? So you begged him to lay you down and force that monster cock inside you, gagging and panting for it like the shameless whore you are, writhing around and spreading your legs open as wide as they’ll go, trying to impale your thirsty, sloppy hole?”
Her breath hitches, and tears fill her eyes. “No!”
“Liar,” I growl, pointing to the ceiling. “I saw you.”
