Chapter 7
One hour after Hellfire Night
“ I f I can go one day without smelling the stench of burned flesh, I’ll die a happy man,” Aiden says.
He tosses an arm into the bonfire we built in the large front yard of our makeshift home base in an abandoned neighborhood.
The flames lick at the flesh, eating away at it until it melts from the bones.
Hawk points at Aiden with a cigarette tucked between his fingers. “Quit lying, bro. You live for this shit.”
“What?” Aiden gasps and lays his palm over his chest in mock disbelief. “That’s a bald-faced lie!”
I roll my eyes and light a cigarette.
It’s always an argument between these two. I get it. It’s friendly banter, but Jesus, they go at each other’s throats every hour about something. Whether it’s who’s chopping up the body, who gets the first kill, or who has to stay at the mansion to watch the captives. Now it’s about the cleanup.
I scoff.
Typical.
“I call bullshit,” Hawk says. He inhales a drag of the smoke, then releases it with a heavy breath. “If you don’t want to discard the bodies, then why do you keep going on about wanting to kill people?”
Aiden picks up another bloody arm and points it at Hawk. It’s almost comical as the stiff fingers jab in Hawk’s direction, like it’s an extension of Aiden. “It’s the killing that’s fun. Smelling cooking dead bodies is another thing, ya ass.”
“That’s enough, guys,” I say. I knock my black combat boot against Kyle’s dismembered torso and take a long drag from my cigarette as I mentally prepare myself for lifting the body part. “Someone help me with this fucker.”
Aiden clicks his tongue, tosses the arm into the fire, then meanders to me. He shoves tendrils of his silver hair off his forehead, not giving a shit about smearing blood and whatever other grime into the locks. “Why isn’t Jaxon here helping us, anyway?”
“Because he’s busy fucking his wife. That’s why,” Hawk says from the side of the bonfire.
I shoot a warning look in his direction as I prop my cigarette between my pierced lips. Then I softly count to three before Aiden and I pick up the heavy torso.
I never knew how heavy a dead body was until my friends and I started going down our list of people to kill. No matter how many times we do this, the deadweight is still a surprise.
It’s not like we’re killing every day, anyway.
Hellfire Night happens once every five years.
Last night was our first time experiencing it as adults.
My stepfather made the whole experience a living hell when I was a teen—fitting, considering the name of the event.
Jerry kept calling me a worthless pussy because I vomited after seeing a dead body for the first time.
But as adults? I’d say it was a little more enjoyable.
Aiden grunts as we toss the body part into the fire, then claps his hands together to wipe off the blood and dirt.
“Not gonna lie, you guys,” Aiden says with a sigh. His expression sobers as he places his hands on his hips and gathers his next words. “I’m kind of jealous of Jaxon, and not for the reason you think.”
Well, that’s out of the blue.
Hawk and I share a look, then turn to Aiden as he stares at the fire with longing. We’re talking about our sisters, for Christ’s sake. He can’t seriously be jealous of Jaxon’s relationship with his sister?
“I like how he doesn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.” Aiden pulls out his vape and draws in a long inhale of whatever flavor he chose for this week. “Love is love, right?”
Didn’t Aiden tell Jaxon he’s weirded out by his relationship with his sister? What changed in such a short time?
Aiden drags in another lungful of the sweet vapor and blows it out with a shake of his head.
He turns to us, his lips flattened and eyebrows pinched together, which is mildly concerning because he always jokes around and smiles.
“I keep thinking about what I’d do if I fell in love with Nova.
” A strange look passes over his face before he locks it away.
“You guys have sisters. What would you do if you caught feelings?”
Hawk snorts. “It’ll never happen.”
“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t fuck your hot-as-hell sister?” Aiden jabs his tattooed finger in Hawk’s direction.
Hawk waves his hands by his blond head, clearly frustrated about this conversation. “No! What the fuck?”
“Technically, she isn’t even your sister. She’s adopted,” Aiden says. “So you still wouldn’t get your dick wet with her?”
“Same applies to you about your foster sister. Would you fuck her?” Hawk snaps.
Aiden’s mouth slams shut.
“Exactly, fucker,” Hawk says with another wave of his hand.
I wander to the cooler and grab a beer from the ice. I pop off the metal cap and toss it aside, then sip the cold beverage while I watch my friends argue. My thoughts center on Aiden’s question, wondering what I would do if I caught feelings for my stepsister.
I’ve had a crush on her since we were pre-teens, feelings for her that are sick and wrong. I can’t be around her for a second without my dick getting hard as I secretly check her out. But she’s my sister, for god’s sake.
So to answer Aiden’s question: Nothing. I would do absolutely nothing as I tried to get past those feelings. I’ve already been doing it for years now.
Besides, even if she weren’t my sister, why would I want to be with someone who ran with the crowd who made my life a living hell in school?
Why would I want to touch someone whose father had no problem laying his hands on me while making me lose the will to live?
My friends are the only reasons I’ve stuck around this long.
That’s a lie. Madison has helped, too, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind.
“Come on,” I say to the two jokers. “We still need to burn the rest of the bodies so I can go home.”
After graduating high school, I left my stepfather’s house and moved into an abandoned mansion in this neighborhood. It’s been a nice break from being under Jerry’s thumb, but it gets lonely as shit. Even when a woman warms my bed for the night, I still feel alone.
Aiden smirks and waggles his eyebrows. “Wanting to get home to the sister so fast, I see.”
I scoff. He knows I’m not going to Jerry’s house, where Madison still lives. “If you’re so dead set on fucking a sister, you should fuck yours. Now shut the hell up and help me with the rest of the bodies.”
“Ooh,” Hawk sings, then bites his bottom lip while looking at Aiden. “Daddy Ryder is out to play. You better behave, Aiden, or he’ll whoop your ass.”
I shake my head and down the rest of the beer.
I kick the front door shut behind me. The entryway is dark, not because the sun hasn’t risen yet, but because I don’t take off my tinted helmet. I pull off my gloves and toss them onto the catch-all table next to the door.
Home sweet home.
It’s not much, but it’s been a safe place for me. The mansion I chose for myself was furnished by the last owners, who didn’t bother packing up before they left in fear of being targeted by the Exiled.
I stride through the hallway and cut through to the living room. Before I left last night for Hellfire Night, I left the TV on with music playing. It’s something I’ve done since day one of living here. It helps ease the loud silence every time I return.
I take off my helmet and set it on the large kitchen island. My stomach growls as soon as I approach the fridge to search for something to eat. I frown at the lack of options: spoiled milk, food that’s molded and becoming sentient, and a couple of beer bottles.
Huh. I thought I had stocked the place, but clearly, I didn’t.
I snatch the beer bottle, pop the cap off, and take deep swallows. Then I head upstairs and don’t bother turning on the light when I walk into my bedroom. The beer is already halfway gone, and I’m still tense, all thanks to Aiden’s question repeating in my head.
Would I fuck my sister?
I slam back the rest of the beer in two swallows.
What the hell went through his mind to ask something like that?
I discard the empty bottle on my dresser, intending to throw it out later when I get up for the day. A quick glance at the rest of the empty bottles tells me I won’t do it.
I need to clean up my place, but I don’t have the time or energy. Maybe sleep will help pull me out of this funk I’ve been in for years.
I kick off my shoes and strip to my boxers, then crawl into my unmade bed.
Lying on my stomach and hugging my pillow, I wait for sleep to come.
It never does, and I’m not surprised. There’s only one thing that helps me fall asleep faster, but it feels wrong to do it, especially after Aiden’s question.
I pop an eyelid open and glare at the nightstand beside my mattress.
It’s not like my best friend will ever know about it. He’s not a mind reader. Shit, he never noticed the longing in my gaze as I stole glances at my stepsister while in school.
Since sleep won’t come and my cock is hardening at the thought of Madison, I grab my phone, then settle back on the mattress.
My thumb immediately taps the TikTok icon, and I scroll for what feels like forever.
Time is nonexistent when I’m on this godforsaken app.
When a video doesn’t hold my interest, I scroll. Video after video plays.
None of them is what I’m looking for.
I scroll to the next one, and “Little Sinner” by Satan’s Priest plays, though it’s been remixed to make it more sexual, with heavy bass and slowed verses. Another song’s beat bleeds into it and creates a mood the Lara Croft cosplayer captures on screen.
Jackpot.
The camera pans from the woman’s knees and slowly glides up to her waist. Her face isn’t in the video, but she has the curves of a goddess, reminding me of a certain somebody in my life who I wish I could forget about.
She plagues my thoughts far too often. My hands twitch, itching to reach through the screen and grab her wide hips to pull her closer to me.
Her apron stomach begs to be squeezed. Her shorts ride up her thick thighs, accentuating her outlined pussy, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Not that I’m complaining, because Jesus fuck, she’s sexy.
More blood rushes to my cock.
The woman in the video sways her hips to the beat of the song, her barely covered breasts bouncing as the camera pans to them. My heart picks up its pace as I wait with bated breath for her face to be revealed, even though she wants to remain anonymous.
Then the video restarts, and the lead singer’s haunting voice sings about his little sinner.
My jaw clenches. No matter how much it pisses me off that I can’t see her face, I watch the video until it starts for the third time. I shove my boxers down my hips, freeing my painful erection. A bead of pre-cum wells from the pierced tip, and I smear it over the head as lube.
This is the perfect video to create a fantasy I’ve imagined hundreds of times.
The video replays countless times, and with each pass, my dick gets harder.
I spit in my palm, then fist my cock with a low groan.
My front teeth dig into my bottom lip as I stroke my shaft and picture the woman as Madison.
Her wide hips sway, and I imagine what it’d be like to hold them, to bury my fingers in her soft skin while I make her ride me hard and fast. The fantasy bleeds into another where she’s on all fours and I’m behind her.
I imagine how good her ass looks, clapping while I pound into her and tease her asshole with my thumb.
It’s my stepsister’s pleasure-filled face taking the place of this faceless woman.
How her curvy body bounces beneath me as I roughly fuck her with the intention of filling her with my cum.
I imagine her whining and telling me not to come inside her when she knows damn well I plan on doing it anyway.
“Fuck,” I breathe out.
My hand flies faster on my cock, working toward the end goal and slowing only enough so I don’t come.
I edge myself until my balls ache from the need to release all this pent-up tension.
It’s something I do often, making the orgasm ten times better than if I stroke myself for a quick nut and a lousy climax.
I’ve slept harder since I started doing this, and it’s become a habit of mine.
Even when I hook up with a woman, I edge the both of us until she’s sobbing and begging for release.
Loud moans spill out of me as I chase my orgasm.
I picture my sister beneath me, her eyelids hooded, fuckable lips parted as she screams my name.
I tighten my fist until I’m strangling my dick, all to make it feel like I’m fucking Madison’s tight pussy.
Her nails would scratch down my back as I showed her no mercy for all the years of sexual frustration.
She’d claw at me and scream for me to slow down, but I have a feeling my sister would say one thing and beg for another.
“Fuck me harder, big brother,” she whispers into my ear.
A strangled noise escapes me, and warm cum jets out of me in pulses. It oozes down my fist and gathers at the base of my cock. Low groans well in my chest as I ride the wave of my orgasm, all while imagining my seed filling my sister’s cunt until it leaks out of her.
My hand pauses when everything fades and I’m left on a high. Time passes, and it takes the last bit of energy I have to grab a Kleenex from my nightstand. After cleaning myself, I toss the tissue into the trash bin beside my bed and roll onto my stomach.
What would it be like to give in and make Madison mine? As my eyes slip closed and sleep takes me, that’s all I can think about. She’d likely look at me in disgust. I wouldn’t blame her. These desires are fucked-up and wrong. It would be for the best if I never got with her. I’d only ruin her.