I wept silently for so many things. For my brother. For myself. For the shame I felt as cool air dried my pussy, dried where he’d licked me to orgasm. I cried, knowing I’d come under my enemy’s tongue, knowing this was only the beginning, knowing there would be so many betrayals, so many concessions. I wondered who I’d be by the end of this. If I survived, that is.

And I hated myself for not wanting to be left alone anymore. Hated myself for my weakness. My fear.

5

Dominic

Eating her pussy didn’t involve penetration. It wasn’t the same as fucking her. Not that I didn’t fuck the other girls. I did. Some. Not all. Only if they were virgins in any way. Well, that was mostly true. It would be better for them, easier, if I took that from them. I’d never eaten one out, though. I’d never wanted to. I’d played with them, I’d enjoyed fucking the ones I did, but it was just that, a fuck, a piece of ass. This was different. Maybe it was like kissing. Too personal.

And I’d kissed her too. Or tried to. Hell, I should have thanked her for nearly breaking my nose.

I don’t even know what made me do it. Yes, my cock was already hard after our little struggle, but hell, that was the norm, and in the last couple of years, I’d gotten to know my fist pretty well. And when I wanted a woman, I paid for it. Anonymous sex, exactly how I liked it.

So why the fuck had I eaten her out?

And why couldn’t I stop thinking about how she tasted? How she sounded when she came? How she thrust her hips at me, wanting more, even as she resisted me?

I’d felt it again, that strange sense of familiarity, when I’d walked into the room and she’d been sitting on the bed, watching me like that. It was those damned haunted eyes. Haunted? Or haunting. They’d seen evil. They saw through me and into my evil. She’d survived evil. But would she survive me?

Yet it wasn’t just that. I knew those eyes. As ridiculous as it was, they were connected to some distant memory, something brief, something…better than this.