Shotgun Sorceress - By Lucy A. Snyder Page 0,78

didn’t seem to hear me. “You’ve got a gorgeous pair, Jessie. Did you know I can make a woman come just by sucking on her nipples? Oh yeah. That’s one trick I know I can do better than Coop. He doesn’t half deserve a fine woman like you.”

“Christ, Warlock. He’s your brother.”

“I don’t see a ring on your finger. If he wanted you all to himself, he should’ve made the vow by now.”

“I’ve. Got. Hepatitis!”

“And I’ve got condoms.” He started to pull my shirt up. “And I can tell when a woman’s getting all juicy. You look like you’re getting a whole bunch of honey on those tight leather pants of mine.”

“No, dammit, no. I don’t want you to do this. Stop.” I was starting to get angry now. Really angry. So what if I was obviously aroused by him? That didn’t give him the right to jump on me like a dog that had found a bitch in heat. He owed me more respect than this, damn him.

The Warlock stood up and unzipped the fly of his camouflage pants. Levered his cock out. His organ was about as long as Cooper’s but much thicker and gnarled with hard veins, the purpling mushroom head boastfully flared, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel inside me. Damn Miko to oblivion.

“This is another thing I know I’ve got on Coop,” he said, stroking his cock slowly with his left hand. “All the ladies who’ve done a taste test with both of us have always come back to me for seconds. And usually thirds and fourths.”

“If you touch me,” I warned him through gritted teeth, “I will kick your ass like it’s never been kicked before.”

“Oh yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow and smiled at me as if he’d taken my threat as a challenge. “Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

He pulled up my sports bra, leaned down, and took my left nipple between his lips. His death-memory hit me, and the sensation of the phantom blade sawing through my throat fired my anger into a profound rage that overwhelmed my lust and panic. He had to know kissing me would hurt me, and he did it anyway, goddamn him!

Screaming in pain and fury, I pulled us both into my hellement.

The Warlock was standing in my bedroom, dressed in his tuxedo again, looking exactly as he had when we drove out to the Faery Tavern. He looked around, startled. “What the—where are we? What is this place?”

I slugged him right in the mouth, and he tumbled backward into the closet and slid to the floor, his lip bleeding. He was no physical match for me in here.

“You’re supposed to be my friend!” I screamed down at him. “You’re supposed to show me common decency and respect, not rape me, you jackass!”

He tried to get up. “I—I wasn’t—”

His protestation put my rage right into orbit. Screaming obscenities, I fell on him, straddling him, and punched him over and over and over as hard as I could, feeling his nose and cheekbones and jaws and teeth shattering under my fists. After a dozen blows, his face looked like fresh roadkill, and he was gurgling for air through the blood filling his wrecked mouth. He didn’t even look human anymore.

Something hard was poking my inner thigh. I rocked back on my heels, grabbed the waistbands of his tuxedo pants and boxers, and ripped them open. His cock bobbed up, huge and hard and insolent.

“You’re still horny?” I snarled at him. “After all that, you’re still horny?”

His lacerated tongue twitched and he moaned, his mouth too destroyed to form any words. I could feel my sanity slipping away from me, but was too angry to care. The Warlock hadn’t learned his lesson yet, and by God I was going to give it to him.

I started to strangle him with both hands. Miko’s memory of killing the GI echoed darkly in the back of my mind. The Warlock gagged and tried to pry my fingers off his throat, but he couldn’t budge them even a millimeter.

“You wanna fuck?” My clothes had disappeared, and I could feel his dick hard against the mound of my loins. “Well, you’re gonna get fucked, bitch!”

I lifted my hips and drove my cunt down on his cock, imagining my gash not as an organ of love and life giving but as the callous, toothless maw of a savage forest hag, the kind that consorts with ancient horned

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