“What about the pictures?” I ask.
Jaxon thrusts harder, jerking me forward. He stops me from falling face first into the counter with his hands on my hips. “I got rid of them. They’re not floating around the internet anymore.”
“But what about the people who might’ve saved?—”
“They’re dead.” He leans forward and kisses right behind my ear. “This is the reason why I’ve been gone so much. My friends and I have been busy getting rid of the pieces of shit who made you cry and screwed you over.”
His movements are slow but deep. Each time he spears into me, it’s done so as a punishment. He wants me to feel every inch of him and wince when he hits too deep. I should hate him for this. I should hate him for using a human’s finger to make earrings.
But I can’t bring myself to. Nor can I hate him for killing Kyle, Connor, and whoever else. I’ve always told myself that what goes around comes around, and Jaxon happened to be the one to hurry karma up.
Jaxon leans his chest against my back, curling himself against me like he’s using himself as a blanket. His hand rests on the edge of the counter, and his lips brush my ear, ensuring I hear every moan and whimper from him.
“You know what those diamonds are made from?” he whispers.
I shake my head and part my lips on a breathless sigh when he angles his hips, his pierced shaft hitting a spot that makes my toes curl.
“My cum.”
“How sweet,” someone says behind us.
We both tense and look over our shoulders. Jaxon stays balls deep inside me, still rocking his hips against mine asthough having a gun pointed at us isn’t something to be concerned with.
Rage burns in Mickey’s eyes as he holds the weapon, his finger resting on the trigger. His lips curl back in a snarl, like all the other people who look at us in disgust. “I warned you,” he says. “I told you I’d get my payback. I didn’t realize you’d be fucking your sister, you sick freak.”
“Mickey—”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he snaps. “Thiswholetime you’ve been fucking your brother? I knew it!”
Jaxon rocks into me a little harder and smirks when I look at him. “Not the whole time,” he says in a bored tone. “But we might as well have been.”
Jesus Christ. Is he not scared to die? Mickey looks like he’s seconds away from emptying the magazine into us.
“Get away from her or I’ll blow your brains out!” Mickey yells, then shoves his gun closer to intimidate us.
It works for me, but not for my brother. Jaxon grabs my shoulder and holds me still when I try to wiggle away from him. He side-eyes Mickey, clearly not impressed. “Put the gun down.”
Mickey guffaws. “Your lame attempt at intimidating me while you’re still balls deep in yoursisterisn’t working the way you were hoping it would.” His lips curl in disgust. “I thought I was seeing things the other night when I saw you two together, but clearly not.”
I stiffen.That was Mickey at the park the other night?
I push back against Jaxon, intending to knock him away, but he shoves forward, his cock hitting deeper. I bite my bottom lip to quiet myself.
“Put the gun down,” Jaxon says through clenched teeth.
“Jaxon,” I say. I meant for it to be scornful, not sound like I’m moaning his name.
Mickey turns his icy gaze to me and sneers. “I knew youwere a sick bitch. Is he really the one you want fucking you?” He scoffs. “You couldn’t get laid, so you settled for the next best thing? You both need help.”
Jaxon’s full lips quirk, and I know from that small smile that bad things are about to happen. He grabs my waist with both hands and pistons into me. “Yeah, we are sick,” he says with the same mischievous smile I saw when he goaded our dad. “Wanna see how good my little sister makes me feel?”
Mickey’s eyebrows pinch together, and his head rears back. He looks at his gun, then back to Jaxon, clearly confused as to why my brother is still fucking me while he’s at gunpoint. “What thefuckis wrong with you?”
“You think a gun scares me?” Jaxon raises my leg to reach a different angle inside me. The position gives Mickey a better view of where we’re joined, and he stares with parted lips, his chest rising and falling faster. This is so fucked up, and I don’t understand why Mickey hasn’t shot us yet.
Mickey’s finger twitches on the trigger. Jaxon moves so quickly that I stumble, nearly falling on my ass as he slips out of me. He grabs the hot sourdough and whips around, his arm held back. In the process of swinging it, he cuts me and barely gives me an apologetic look before he bashes it against Mickey’s head.
The gun goes flying and lands on the ground. A loud bang echoes in the kitchen, and I duck, praying the bullet doesn’t hit me. Wood splinters and I twist to the right, a shaky, relieved breath spilling out of me at the bullet hole that’s an inch past my shoulder.
