Chapter 21
twenty-one
The Saint
“I can’t believe she’s here,” Mercy says, as we hurry down the windswept beach toward a rock jutting up in the distance. A lone figure sits perched on it. My throat goes dry at the thought of who it is, sitting out there so exposed, so vulnerable. “Why didn’t she want to see us?”
“She does want to see you,” Heath says. “That’s why we’re all going.
But she’s not coming back right away, and she didn’t want everyone giving her shit about it.
Plus, she’s a little skittish. I think it was overwhelming for her to think about seeing us all at once.
So don’t be all weird and freak her out.
And don’t ask her about what happened. If she wants to talk about it, let her do it when she’s ready. ”
My footsteps slow as we get close, but Mercy breaks into a run, closing the short distance across the packed, wet sand to the black, barnacled rock where Eternity sits, hair blowing in the wind like a mythical siren.
“Eternity,” Mercy cries, launching herself at the rock. She scrambles up, throwing her arms around our childhood friend. Eternity loses her precarious perch, and they go tumbling off the rock onto the sand in a tangle.
“Uh, okay,” Eternity says, picking herself up and brushing sand off her leather jacket with a scowl. “Glad to see some of you haven’t changed.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Mercy stammers, jumping to her feet, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “I just—I can’t believe we finally found you.”
“Great job not being weird,” I mutter to her before I bend to swipe Eternity’s phone from where she dropped it, the news article about a serial killer in Tennessee that she was reading still open on the screen.
Angel steps in to hug E, much more reservedly, and I hand back her phone back when they’re done with the greeting.
“I didn’t find her,” Heath says to Mercy. “She found me. That’s what happens when you’re famous. People see you on TV.”
“Okay, asshole,” Angel says cheerfully, throwing an arm around our heathen. “You’re lucky you had such a good excuse for being out last night, or Dante would have kicked your ass when you got home.”
“I wasn’t aware we have a curfew,” Heath says, turning to Father Salvatore. “Sorry, Daddy.”
The priest just shakes his head. Then he holds out a hand and introduces himself to Eternity.
“I guess you’re all still friends,” she says, looking a little wistful as she surveys us, her gaze coming to land on me last. I’m reminded of the last encounter we had, how awkward it was afterwards. So awkward we left her alone to deal with it on her own.
“You look good,” I say quietly, stepping in to pull her into my arms. I cradle her to my chest, my heart aching for what could have been, what we lost. I can’t change the past, though, can’t save her any more than I could save her brother from taking the fall.
All I can do is be what Heath needs now, and maybe what she needs too.
“You look…” She steps back and looks up at me. “A little weird, not gonna lie. What’s with the hair?”
“I could say the same to you,” Angel says. “Pink?”
“It’s a long story,” I tell her, taking her hand and helping her back up onto the rock. I climb up with her, but there’s not much room for anyone else, though two people could scoot up the other side and sit with their backs to ours if we didn’t want to see each other while we talked.
“Not as long as that hair,” she says, eyeing me as she takes out a pack of cigarettes.
“I haven’t cut it since that day,” I say quietly. “Since you left.”
She looks away, out toward the island, and then fishes a lighter from her pocket. “You smoke?”
I shake my head no, then reach up and undo the threadbare bracelet I use to tie my hair up. “Remember these?”
“Oh… Wow,” she says. “Is that…?”
“From church camp,” I say. “I got yours.”
“You did?” Heath asks. “How?”
I shrug and look away. “We all have them.”
“I’ve got mine in a drawer at home,” Angel says. “Right next to the Holy Bible.”
“That’s what your hair tie is?” Mercy asks, staring up at me with a wounded expression.
“Yeah,” I say. “What did you think?”
“I thought the police took it,” Heath says. “That’s evidence.”
“They weren’t using it,” I say. “Besides, they closed the case. The investigation is over. They returned her things to your parents when she was declared dead.”
“Not cool,” Heath says, scowling at me.
“I think it’s sweet,” Eternity says, offering me a little smile.
Mercy looks from me to her and back. Then she turns away. “I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she mutters. “I’ll wait in the car.”
She hurries away, leaving all of us gaping after her.
“Dude,” Angel says. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What did I do?” I protest.
Father Salvatore gives me a no-bullshit look. “Go.”
I sigh and hop down off the boulder. I know what I did. I just don’t know why I like doing it so much.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” I tell Eternity. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Then I jog off down the beach after Mercy. I call her name, but she only walks faster. We’re practically running when we reach the parking lot. When she gets to the van, I grab her at last, spinning her around and pinning her to the side. “What the fuck, M?”
“You tell me,” she says. “What the fuck, Saint?”
“Damn,” I say. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you swear. It’s kinda hot.”
She tries to pull her hands away, but I grip them tighter. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I knew you liked her. It was stupid to think what happened between us would happen again. And now that we’ve found her…”
“If that’s stupid, then I’m stupid,” I say.
“What?” she asks, her eyes going glassy with tears.
“I love you, that’s what,” I say. “I always loved you. I always wanted you. I liked her because I couldn’t have you, and she was the closest thing I could get.
You were my sister, for fuck’s sake. But you were the one I wanted, the one I thought about when I was jerking off in the shower since the very first time I did it.
I’ve never cum without thinking of you while I did it. ”
“Never?” she asks, her mouth dropping open in shock.
“Never,” I say. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I just didn’t think I could have it. And now that I have… I don’t know why I keep fucking it up. Why I keep hurting you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
She tugs at her hands again, and I let them go this time. Instead of pushing me away, though, she touches my cheek, her eyes soft and shining with love. She’s too good, even before she says, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“There is,” I say grimly. “I’m fucked up, M. It makes me so hot when you cry. I can’t help it. It’s like I have to do it again, just to see those pretty tears in your eyes again. It’s better than fucking you. It’s heaven. So yeah, I’m fucked up—I know that. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think it’s fucked up,” she says. “It’s just what you like. We all like different things. If that’s what you need…”
“Then what?” I ask. “I can call you a dirty whore? Make you crazy with jealousy?”
“As long as you promise not to do anything with another girl,” she says. “And the other stuff… I don’t really mind. It makes me hot too.”
I draw back, narrowing my eyes. “It does?”
She bites her lip and looks away, her cheeks coloring.
Fuck. My sister has a degradation kink.
Except she’s not my sister. She’s the girl who has my total devotion, the love of my life… And my dirty little fuck toy.
“Of course it turns you on,” I say, my lip curling. “You’re a filthy, used cum rag who likes to get passed around by four men. I bet your pussy’s still leaking their cum right now.”
“Saint—”
“It is, isn’t it?” I demand.
“No,” she whispers, her lip trembling.
“Liar,” I snarl. “Show me. If it’s not weeping as much as your eyes always are, I’ll leave you alone.”
“I can’t,” she whimpers. “I’m still sore from yesterday.”
“Stop being such a crybaby and get used to it,” I snap. “That’s the price you pay for getting your tight little cunt wrecked by the world’s biggest cock. Now show it to me.”
Her breath hitches, and her cheeks darken even more, but she slowly pulls up her skirt. I glance around at the parking lot. We’re alone except for a couple empty cars, but someone could come up from the beach at any moment.
“Pull down your panties and let me see my little sister’s sloppy cunt,” I order.
She swallows hard, her eyes scanning the lot before she obeys. “Someone else could see,” she whispers, her thighs trembling as she bares herself to me. Her cunt is already flushed and swollen, the lips glistening with arousal.
“Don’t worry, no one else would be interested in that worn out old thing,” I say, reaching out and stuffing a finger up her.
She cries out, her thighs quaking. “What do you want, little sister?” I ask. “You want some stranger to come along and see your dripping cunt?”
“No,” she gasps, her knees buckling. I pin her to the van, sliding my finger out and then ramming two back in.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she gasps, gripping my shoulders, her nails digging in.
“You have me,” I say, curling my fingers inside her.
She whimpers, her hips bucking. “Fuck me,” she cries. “I want my big brother to fuck me.”
I rip my jeans open, knock her legs apart, and plow up into her so hard her feet leave the ground. She lets out a mewling cry, her head falling back against the van.
“What’s wrong, little sister?” I taunt. “Does your pussy hurt?”
“Yes,” she cries, a tear squeezing between her lashes and trickling down her cheek.
At last. It feels like triumph, my lifelong fantasy come true, my sweet little sister crying as I strip away her innocence and turn her into my own personal fuck doll.
Watching her tears fall while my cock is sheathed inside her is rapturous, transcendent.
I draw back and then slam my cock to the hilt inside her quivering, wet cunt.
She is mine.
“Tell me to stop.”
“No,” she cries, gripping my shirt like the desperate slut she is. “Please, Saint. Don’t stop.”
I draw back a few inches and then thrust back in, punching into her depths in short, deep blows.
She winces, and the tears come faster. Her lips are trembling as she sucks in a ragged breath.
She’s so fucking hot. I smear my thumb through the teardrop, then paint her lips with it.
The next second, my lips crash into hers, and I fuck her.
With my tongue and my cock, I fuck her. I fuck her hard and rough, not caring if the whole world sees it. I’m not ashamed.
“You asked for it,” I growl, ramming into her so hard the metal door of the van dents inwards. “Begged, in fact. So take it. Take my cum like my thirsty little slut.”
“Yes,” she cries. “I’m your slut, your whore.”
I ram into her again, my hips jerking as I shoot my load deep inside her. Then I reach between us, pinching her clit to make her buck and moan. I keep her impaled on my cock while I guide her toward an ending that a few months ago, would have been too shameful to comprehend.
Now, as she cums all over my cock, legs shaking and cunt clenching and voice hoarse from crying my name, there’s nothing shameful about it. It’s dirty and hot and forbidden, and absolute perfection.