43. XLIII
XLIII
Echo
I slowed my thrusts, letting Spencer's walls strangle my cock as if she wanted to keep me there, connected forever.
“I hate feeling empty,” she whined. “I can’t take it, Echo. I need you inside me always. Fucking desperate for you to fill me up and never leave.”
Spencer was virtually incoherent, and I wasn’t far behind. Her ass sat on the edge of the weapons table, thighs wrapped around my waist as I plunged between her legs, entirely possessed. Her nails dug deep into my neck as my fingers anchored her hips, guiding my length into her sweet, sweet cunt, continually searching for absolution.
Since I had awoken, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other. When we weren’t torturing our prisoner, I was sheathed inside her. Stuck in a mania of need, bordering psychotic in our obsession. Utterly insatiable.
I had nearly lost her, my mind and body demanding constant reassurance that my ghost was there and well. The only time I felt whole was when she accepted me within her and I gave up myself in return.
Our tongues aggressively danced and breaths mingled as I pushed against her inner walls, burying my cock all the way to the hilt.
I moaned, near the goddamn edge of oblivion. “All I can think about… All I dream about is feeding you my cum, Ghost. It drives me fucking crazy, knowing how this greedy cunt accepts me so well. God, so well, sweetheart.”
Her pussy fluttered around me. She was close—so damn close. My lips tracked along her jawline until I reached the back of her ear. I bit over that sensitive spot, leaving a purple bruise.
Spencer cursed, eyes shut tight, hips bucking against me, lost in abandon. “ Fuck, give me your cum, Echo. I want you dripping down my thighs. I want my pussy bruised and aching. Every time I move, I want to be reminded of this moment—of you owning me and me owning you.”
Pleasure ricocheted down my spine, igniting a line of flames to my centre as she encased me in wet, blazing heat. “Fuck this dirty mouth,” I snarled. “Fuck this tight perfect pussy. I’m a fucking glutton for you, Spence.”
Our bodies trembled against one another, sensitivity spiking higher with each subtle touch. I shifted and slammed hard, the renewed force causing the table to shake, raining weapons down to the floor.
“Open your eyes for me, Ghost.” She followed through with my command, and as her gaze reached mine, an internal link clicked into place like it always did.
I let her see it all, pouring everything into that one single look—passion, love, affection, obsession. “ Watch me ,” I vowed. “ Feel me. ”
And as those words settled between us, Spencer erupted, squeezing and pulsing until I plummeted over the edge alongside her.
As we came down and caught our breath, I readjusted my length inside my pants. Spencer remained on the counter, thighs spread wide, giving me the magnificent view of her dripping centre and wet lips.
My tongue peeked out, and arousal made me half hard already. God, maybe I should bend down and suck on her clit, clean her up with my tongue.
That thought stuttered to a halt when I watched my seed leak from her magical cunt. Enchanted, I collected our cum with two fingers and slipped them back inside, pushing as deep as I could.
Spencer whimpered as her walls fluttered against the intrusion, causing a possessive growl to erupt from my chest. “I live inside you now,” I said. And I meant it—all the way down to my blackened, fucked up soul.
After I was sure she had accepted every last drop, I sucked my fingers clean while Spencer unwrapped a post-sex lollipop.
Surprisingly, Spencer bypassed her mouth, lowering the sugar candy between her legs. And I swear, the neurons in my brain completely misfired. Spencer smirked as she swiped the ball of her lollipop through that glistening pussy, pressing down on her swollen clit.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I gulped. She wanted to fucking kill me.
Spencer purred from the subtle pressure before raising the candy to her lips. Before she could latch on, I gripped her wrist and wrapped my tongue around the burble.
I groaned, about to combust from the sickening sweet taste of my beautiful girl mixed with pure sugar. “Fucking delicious .”
Spencer tsked, fingers lacing through my hair as she pushed me down to my knees. “Clean up your mess.”
“Long live the fucking queen.”
How many times could she make me come? I’d lost count.
You’d think my balls were completely drained by then, my dick blowing dust mites. Yet, she always found a way.
We were sated, euphoria waning from our latest round when a choked scream reached us from the cell next door.
I pressed a quick kiss to Spencer's lips. “Our prisoner’s awake. Want to finish this?”
“ I w ant to finish this. Will you give her to me, Echo? Will you give me this gift?” she asked me with innocent green eyes and a devilish soul. She was testing me, putting out one final feeler to see if I would sacrifice what I had garnered for so long.
Pinching her chin to bring her closer, I bit into her bottom lip, the aftertaste sugar sweet from her gum. “I’d gift you anything, sweetheart. Destroy her. For me. For us.” And I meant it. The former me would have had an aneurysm, passing over the opportunity of revenge. But when I looked at my girl...I just didn’t give a fuck.
I didn’t give a fuck about anything else except her.
Spencer gave a pleased nod, then straightened the hem of her dress, not a wrinkle in sight. I perked a brow at our polar opposite appearances.
I looked like a rugged invalid, our fuckfest leaving me bedraggled with stained bandages. However, Spencer was pristine, goddamn immaculate as if she hadn’t worshipped my dick for the past forty-eight hours.
Lacing our hands together, we stepped out to visit Camilla—well, what was left of her anyway.
As we entered her cell, the stench was atrocious. She was strapped flat on her back to a plastic gurney (easier to clean with all the mess).
Days of pleading, begging and outright slander didn’t save Camilla from becoming a cask of broken bones, bruised flesh and open wounds.
We were near the end, her breathing laboured beneath the onslaught of her injuries. Her devotion to Khaos was noted, and had garnered an ounce of respect. Yet, she never stood a chance against our method of questioning.
The Kings had ventured down into the basement a few times—which they soon gave up on, after finding their sister in a compromising position or two. With a few threats and disgusted barks, they gave us a three-day deadline to gain information before we were kicked off the interrogation.
They needn’t have worried. We’d meet our quota. We only had one question left—the most important.
Spencer perused the table layered with bloody instruments, palming a snapped rams horn she had brought back from the arena as a trophy.
“You know,” she said conversationally as she rounded on Camilla, slipping the lollipop from between her lips. “For a moment, we thought the leader of Khaos was you. But then, you’re not that intelligent are you, Camilla?”
Upon the topic, our prisoner actually had the gall to stare Spencer down with her dying eyes. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.” Camilla spat, saliva tinged with pink. “Our leader will bring a new age of power. To protect us and bring us into a new world. Khaos are a unit. Beneath her rule, we are all-powerful.”
“I knew a man who said the same once,” Spencer scoffed. “Some unit? I set his weak ass on fire.”
My brow furrowed at Camilla’s dying ministrations. Despite the pain we had delivered, she never lost that sincerity in her voice, the deep devotion for her godly leader.
It didn’t make sense. The girl I knew would never have given that amount of power to another. Frankly, Camilla was too selfish.
To convert someone as self-centred as her was a feat all on its own. Khaos was some type of weird cult. What we had to find out was how their leader was converting such a dedicated following, made up of members who were willing to die just to keep her identity hidden.
“Who do you work for? Who is the leader of Khaos?” Spencer asked for the umpteenth time, closing in on her prey.
Camilla shut her chapped lips in a tight squeeze—as if that ever stopped the screams from escaping.
Spencer hummed, tracing her skeletal weapon down Camilla’s bare torso. “I had it sharpened,” Spencer said. As if proving her statement, the tip of the horn nicked Camilla’s nipple, where a droplet of blood grew from the incision. “I am prone to dramatic effect…or so my sisters say.”
Although Camilla remained silent, shivers and goosebumps ravaged her frame, no doubt preparing for the inevitable torment to come.
Then Spencer traced her makeshift horn over the tattoo that sat between Camillas breasts—a black outline of a ram's skull, representing her allegiance to Khaos.
Now, that got a reaction.
“Don’t fucking touch it,” Camilla screeched, her expression feral. Up until that point, we had avoided her tattoo, knowing it brought great significance. We were right to mar it last.
“Who do you work for? Who is the leader of Khaos?” Spencer repeated, entirely unbothered.
Silence. Slice.
A stark line of crimson tracked down Camilla’s sternum, obscuring her ink. She began to cry. And still, she did not budge.
Spencer shrugged, then climbed on top of the stretcher, her thighs straddling Camilla’s waist as she dug the tip of the horn into the edge of her Khaos symbol.
I took a cautious step closer, ready to protect Spencer if needed. Until I saw the raw fear and agony swimming in Camilla’s eyes, fissures appearing in her resolution. Not long now.
“Who do you work for? Who is the leader of Khaos?”
Quiet dragged on so long that the air thickened with wild anticipation. Then, it snapped.
I watched on in fascination as Spencer metamorphosed in front of me, her maniacal grin so wide her teeth shone with the promise of a harsh, venomous bite.
As if in glee, she braced her weapon and began carving into Camilla’s chest.
Spencer was the fucking devil, and she was mine .
My Ghost was a vision, wreaking havoc on our prisoner while looking like a supermodel. I had never been more turned on in my entire fucking life, lust writhing in my veins like an uncontrollable hurricane. If Spencer wasn’t careful, I’d kill Camilla myself and fuck her over the dead bitch’s corpse before it had even cooled.
Spencer looked deep in concentration as she finished off the final touches. After a tilted head of approval, I helped her down and studied her handy work. She had completely destroyed Camilla’s tattoo, slicing a crude crown directly over the marred black ink.
For some reason, seeing the Sovereign motif cancelling out the Khaos one had Camilla’s mind fracturing into pieces.
She fought against her restraints. Howled, laughed, sobbed and giggled.
Spencer looked on with an amused expression, continuing to suck on that endless ball of candy. I had to adjust my unrelenting cock that wouldn’t give me a goddamn break. I was rubbed raw, and at that point, my dick was going to fall off.
After a time, Spencer exhaled with a disappointed sigh. “I think we’ve broken her.”
“Not quite.”
A heavy knock disrupted our tirade, and in walked the rest of the Kings. Tanner, Micah and Emerson strolled into the enclosed space wearing severe expressions, followed by an energetic Fran yapping at their heels.
Micah’s golden eyes blazed as they clocked Camilla’s new crown imprint. “Time’s up.”
Spencer pouted, and Emerson laughed from the petulance. “You weren’t able to find out, were you? You’ve lost your touch, sis.”
My palm traced around Spencer’s waist to secure over her abdomen, preventing an all-out attack.
Tanner shifted towards Camilla, who had snapped quiet upon their entrance. “All must bow before death, little one,” he said. “It’s up to you how much pain you further endure.” He said it so casually, so nonchalant, you’d think he was discussing the weather, but the undertone could not be mistaken.
It was otherworldly as if he was the grim reaper himself. Extending an altruistic hand to the helpless soul that required a gentle guide to the afterlife.
Instinct screamed at me to watch, to assess and heed the warning that was Tanner King. Except I was never good at those.
Crouching before Fran, I reached out to give his tiny head a pat. I never made contact, his jaw snapping to take a bite out of my hand. The chihuahua was all bark no bite. I knew that for the fact that he had saved my life, and in doing so, had prevented our entire fated demise. Fran liked me, he just didn’t want to show it. I knew something about that.
“Are you hungry, boy?” I cooed. Fran cocked his head like he could understand me. For his heroic contribution, I was willing to give him a treat. “Lower the stretcher,” I said to the rest.
Tanner complied and Spencer grinned, following my thought process.
“What are you doing?” Micah asked, using her school teacher’s voice.
“Let him eat,” I said.
The Kings all shared a look, communicating through their eyes alone, none breaking contact until they came to a silent decision.
Spencer’s gaze cut to Fran. “ Eat, Franny boy.”
The chihuahua attacked.
SPENCER
Hours passed. The sound of tearing flesh and elongated whimpers echoed off the walls.
Camilla’s body was an unrepairable mess, the damages escalating as Fran continued to chew on her flesh.
Somewhere in the last thirty minutes, I’d seen the remainder of her fight dwindle from her orbs. She had nothing left.
“ Pleaseee… Pleas-se. Enough,” Camilla managed to sputter.
“Fran,” I commanded. And my perfect boy obeyed, his incisors retracing from her body.
Friction wired between us siblings, telepathically knowing that this was it—the moment we had coveted, obsessed and yearned for for over four fucking years.
The sovereign betrayed, the King estate blown to ash, our sister murdered. It all culminated in that moment.
We would finally identify the individual who had taken everything from us.
Taking a step forward, my voice nearly shook as I asked the same endless question. “Who do you work for? Who is the leader of Khaos?”
“Karena. Karena King.”
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