The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,94

her legs open.

I bite the inside of my lip as I give her body one last scan. Then I bring my palm down on her ass with all my strength.

The sound of her shocked yell reverberates deep inside me.

I’m in agony—suspended in ice, drowning in fire. Without conscious thought, I zip down my fly and take out my cock. I stroke myself, keeping my hand on the back of her neck as I inch my dick closer to her wet pussy.

She must feel the warmth coming off my body, because she stiffens again, as if expecting another blow.

Christ.

Her heat coats the crown of my dick as I ram my fist down its length. The pain makes me harder. Makes me want to fuck her even more. To spread her open and drench myself in her juices.

She makes a sound behind my belt. It sounds like a plea.

It takes long seconds for me to realize she’s shaking. That she’s no longer pressing back against my hand, resisting me. She’s limp, draping the back of the couch like she doesn’t have the strength to hold herself up anymore.

And then I hear her sniffs. The stifled sob.

I shove my cock back into my jeans and move to the side. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her cheeks bright red.

“The fuck is it now?” I ask roughly, ripping my belt out of her mouth. “Finally decided you’ve had enough?”

As soon as the belt is out, she moves away from me, her hands shaking as she yanks up her underwear. She lets out a string of mangled words.

“Sorry—don’t—happening—shouldn’t—stop.”

I watch her as she tries to put on her yoga pants. When they’re halfway up her legs she turns away from me, surreptitiously wiping at the inside of her thigh as another sob wrangles its way out of her mouth.

“Hey.” I grab her elbow, but she twists her arm out of my grip. I frown, and this time I grab her waist and drag her up against me. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her lips trembling. “I don’t know why that happened.”

I stick my hand between her legs, wiping at the slick wetness on her thighs. “This?” I ask roughly. “Are you embarrassed about this?”

She covers her face with her hands, shrinking in on herself like a wilting flower. I make an angry noise in the back of my throat. “You asked for this,” I tell her as I yank her yoga pants up the rest of the way. “Don’t play coy now.”

She rips her hands away and struggles in my arms, but I refuse to let her go. “It was supposed to hurt,” she says. “It wasn’t supposed to…why did it…what the fuck’s wrong with me?”

The last is a yell. She glares up at me before her face crumples and her mouth starts quivering again. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispers.

“Nothing, my girl.” I wipe away her tears with my thumbs as I cradle her face in my hands. “Absolutely nothing.”

I stare into amber eyes that demand more from me. But what the fuck am I supposed to say?

She wanted answers, I wanted release. We made a deal. How the fuck were we supposed to know it would turn out like this?

But now, staring into her eyes, I guess I had it wrong all along.

This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about me. It was about us. All of us. The Brotherhood. The Ghosts. The Guardians.

It was about the basement.

She can’t believe what happened to us.

No one can be that cruel.

That perverted.

That sick.

It can’t be true.

But it is.

Trinity Malone couldn’t accept the truth so she tried catching me in a lie.

A slow, hard ache starts up in my ankles before spreading to my wrists.

I trace the bottom of her lip with my thumb. “I disobeyed them,” I tell her quietly.

She blinks, trapping a tear in her lashes. “What?”

“You wanted to know why my parents were punishing me.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly.

“I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to. Saw something I shouldn’t have.”

My chest closes up. I take a deep breath, but it barely fills my lungs.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push me for more. Perhaps she thinks I’ll tell her to leave if she does.

Those bright, amber eyes just watch. Not perversely curious, like the policemen who’d taken our statements after we’d finally escaped. Not pitiful, like so many of the parents in the foster homes we’d ended up in.

Just watching.

Waiting.

I manage another breath, this one even shallower than the last. My erection has faded completely,