Chapter Three
Lenora
There is a sickness inside me.
An infliction in my blood. A genetic deformity bred into my genome sequence. Inherited from my mother and her mother. Spanning generations so far back that there is no record of its conception.
We are fury.
We are destroyers.
Vengeance is our scorched earth on those who hurt us or those we love, and I will have blood. I will have their mutilated corpses at my feet.
“I want to watch you carve their eyes from their skulls,” I tell him with a calm I feel throughout my entire being. “I want them alive and in agony as everyone they love dies.”
If he is disgusted by my request, it never shows beyond the quirk of his eyebrow.
His lack of horror at my request only heightens that brewing hunger clawing at the back of my belly. It tightens my fingers in his hair, and I drag his mouth to mine.
“Will you give me this?”
The man above me hums with pleasure and something that vibrates through me. It tingles across my lips. His finger slips down to my opening. Circles it. Adds just enough pressure to make me bite my lip and arch my hips. Our eyes lock with every steady stroke.
“That is your request, Lenora?”
I nod and watch his head dip to my exposed chest where the left strap has slipped, baring my breast. His stubble tickles skin as he plants a kiss to my nipple. He sucks the peak. Traces it with his tongue.
At my other breast, his fingers tweak and pinch. Mirroring the light flicks between my thighs.
“Say it. Tell me what you’re asking me to do for you and what you’re going to give me in return. I want you to really understand what you’re asking.”
Everything he’s doing feels so familiar, but different. The boys made me wet. Made me squirm for them. But watching him descend down my torso, dragging my slip off as he goes, leaving a trail of wet kisses across the skin he exposes has me sobbing before the first sweep of his tongue.
“Uncle Marcus, please…”
His tongue slides inside me without ever breaking eye contact. Watching me whimper and buck.
“I’m eating your cunt, Lenora. Uncles don’t do that. My brother would be horrified to find his little girl spread open across her godfather’s bed, pussy dripping.” He watches my face with another lazy sweep that has my back lifting and my fingers locking in his hair.
“Please,” I beg, grinding my mound into his face.
“Tell me what you want.”
His mouth clamps on my clit and I lose my senses. My head falls back with a groan.
“Bring me the people who took Eliah and Ames. Let me watch … oh! Uncle Marcus … there. Please…”
“No more uncles, Lenora. Marcus. Say it.”
Cheeks warm, I whisper his name and get that steady flick of his tongue in that one spot that has me thrashing.
“Finish,” he orders.
I swallow before answering, “Let me watch you cut their eyes out.”
“In return, I get this. Whenever. Wherever. My personal hole to play with, right?”
He makes it sound so dirty.
“Yes, Uncle … Marcus,” I correct quickly.
He groans and falls on my mound. My lips are pulled wide and he attacks my clit until I’m whimpering and bucking. Begging him not to stop.
“Rub your pussy, Lenora. Cum for me.”
Ames liked watching me. He’d sit in a chair and give Eliah directions while he stroked his cock, but Marcus isn’t watching. He’s circling my opening with the tip of his tongue.
I reach down and rub while his tongue penetrates. I realize as I shatter that he wanted me to cum on his tongue. And that only makes me crash harder.
Marcus laps and cleans every drop before drifting up to lick my twitching nerves.
“Will you cum again for me, Lenora?”
I nod. The boys loved watching me until I was a limp, sobbing mess.
Their father seems to be the same and I watch his dark head move between my thighs in the mirrors.
I could pretend it’s one of my boys, but that thought disgusts me before it can even fully formulate.
Instead, I moan his name and cum again.
“I will grant you this wish.” His big, powerful body drifts up over mine and my arms are filled by his shoulders. I’m caged against his chest. “In return, you will do exactly what I say, understood?”
In the distance, I hear the faint squeak of razors on glass.
But I ignore it as I pull the man above me down. “Promise.”
I will do anything he asks if I can watch the dark stones of Usher House run red.