Meister practically got a boner for Flame’s kill.
I knew Flame was seeing Maddie in the slut’s place. Meister was lucky Flame had managed to sway his anger from him and onto the redneck.
Flame stepped back, panting, chest heaving, his tatted arms covered in blood and his wife-beater a bright shade of red. Meister clapped his hands, laughing, and signaled for more drinks.
“It’s no wonder Beau called you to Texas.” Flame looked my way, and I indicated for him to sit. Thank fuck the fucker did as I asked.
About an hour passed of Meister talking about nothing but white-power politics and the details of how he thought the coming race war was gonna go down. He boasted that the town funded firearms and any other fucking Nazi shit the Klan could think of to acquire.
Night fell.
Men got wasted.
Music blared.
Then Meister clicked his fingers.
I had no idea what the fuck he’d ordered Himmler to do this time, but a few minutes later, Himmler came back into the bar, dragging a drugged slut toward us.
A skinny slut with pale skin. Dressed in a soiled white dress. Fucking flame-red hair, and freckles on her face.
My chest tightened, my palms sweated and it took everything I had not to get up from my seat and drag the bitch from Himmler’s arms. Meister pushed back his chair, and Himmler dropped her onto Meister’s lap.
Meister gripped her hair and wrenched up her face. All the fucking air slipped from my lungs . . .
. . . the slut was Phebe.
“Real pretty, ain’t she?” Meister said. Phebe’s head lolled under his grip, her blue eyes unable to focus. Mark after mark mottled the skin on her arms. Needle marks. Her long red hair was greasy and riddled with dirt; her see-through dress showed her tits and pussy underneath. Bones jutted out at every angle.
But worse was her face. Swollen eyes, bloodied, cracked lips, and bruises—old and new—marring her cheeks and jaw.
The bitch was a mess.
A moan slipped from Phebe’s mouth as Meister ran his hand down her chest and palmed her tit. His lips traced down the side of her neck, and the bitch tilted her head to the side to allow the fucker to lick along her sweat-coated skin. She cried out in pain as his teeth bit into her, leaving an angry, red mark.
Viking shifted on the seat behind me and coughed. I knew he was trying to say something. He subtly tipped his head toward the rest of the room. The brother’s face would have looked neutral to anyone else, but I knew the fucker was livid.
I looked around to see several bitches, dressed similarly to Phebe, being brought to men, the men pulling them onto their laps, doing whatever the fuck they wanted to them.
“You want one, just pick,” Meister said. He raised a brow at me. I tried to form an answer, but I had to work real hard just to keep my shit together when I saw Phebe’s dress was pulled up, baring her pussy. Meister’s hand was between her legs, his finger pumping inside.
“Maybe later,” I managed to say. But I was fucking seething inside. Sick, murderous thoughts were zipping through my skull, all with Meister’s dead body at the center. All with his pale-ass skin coated in his blood and his eyes gouged out by the tip of my knife.
Flame’s chair flew back, and suddenly my brother was on his feet and storming out the door. “What the fuck’s his problem?” Himmler asked from beside Meister. The fucker hadn’t stopped watching any of us.
“Ain’t good with crowds,” Cowboy answered.
“Who gives a fuck? Look at how he kills. Who gives a shit if he isn’t into public pussy?” Meister winked at me, then he placed his hands on Phebe’s cheeks and turned her head to face me. She flinched and moaned, her eyes struggling to focus. I wasn’t sure if it was due to Meister’s hand being all up in her pussy or the hard grip he had on her face.
Probably both.
“This is the fucking promised land, Carson. All of this is our reward for our service to our race, the service we gave to our country. We can take what we want, when we want.” He smiled. “Watch.”
Meister reached to the front of Phebe’s dress and ripped the material open. The scraps fell to the floor, leaving Phebe’s too-thin body exposed. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t marked.
“This slut is mine. But she tried to disobey me, tried to fight back, so I’ve been schooling her on how to behave.” He turned Phebe’s mouth to his and bit down on her bottom lip. She cried out, her body jerking. He laughed. “Haven’t I, Phebe? Showing you who the fuck you belong to, in the dentist shack?”
His face morphed into a strict expression. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded.
Every one of my muscles tensed when she said softly, as if by rote, “Meister.”
“Good girl.” He pushed her to her feet. “So show me.” He leaned forward. “Show me how much you love me.”
Phebe got up from his lap and turned to face him, a fucking puppet on a string. She leaned forward, her ass in the air. I gripped the arms of my chair, almost ripping the fucking wood clean off when I saw that he’d been teaching her lessons, all right. In every fucking orifice.
Phebe pushed her tits into Meister’s face and, even under all the drugs, became a fucking seductress before my eyes. Her body rolled as she pressed her bare skin over Meister’s chest, her hands braced on the arms of the chair. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she fed her nipple into Meister’s mouth, clutching the back of his head as he sucked hard, and she moaned like she was lapping up that shit.
And then she was sliding to her knees, the palms of her hands running up Meister’s thighs. The asshole’s eyes were glazed, half from whiskey and half from the sight of his plaything on her knees, mouth lowering toward his crotch. Her shaking hands began undoing his belt, then the buttons on his jeans.
I looked around the room to see fuckers jerking off as they watched her. Others were fucking their sluts for the night. It looked like Saturday at the fucking Hangmen. At least the club sluts chose to get their pussies smashed by me and my brothers. My eyes met Viking’s and Cowboy’s. I saw the fire in their eyes. Fire and disbelief. Viking’s hands were in fists on his lap, and Cowboy’s foot was twitching. The brothers were one step from launching into this fucker and taking him out.
A choked sound pulled my attention back to Meister and Phebe. Meister’s head was rolled back, his cock in Phebe’s hand. And she was bringing it to her mouth.
Her back arched and her hips rocked as if she were already fucking him. The bitch mewled as she swallowed the tip and took the length of the fucker back into her throat. She didn’t gag or even flinch as she deep-throated Meister’s dick. He growled low in his throat, smashing his hand onto her head and fisting the strands. He was rough, practically ripping her hair from her head. But Phebe just sucked harder.
I remembered Phebe was bred for this shit in that cult. The prophet whoring her out to attract members. I could see why; the bitch was a fucking siren.
Meister’s growls and groans got louder as she took him harder, faster, deeper. Redneck fucks around us cried out as they came. And then Meister snapped, pushed Phebe back off his cock and gripped the top of her arm. He wrenched her to her feet and spun her to face him. Then, wasting no time, he pulled her down to his lap and slammed his cock into her pussy.
Phebe cried out, her hands falling to Meister’s shoulders. “Move,” he commanded. Phebe’s hips began grinding on his dick, and his hands reached around to spread her ass apart. He pushed two fingers into her ass. Phebe screamed as he thrust his hips roughly while he took her every hole.
My hands curled into fists as he fucked her and fucked her, harder and harder by the second. Until at last he bellowed out a long groan and slammed into her for one final time.
Phebe rolled her hips until Meister pulled his fingers out of her ass. Taking the back of her head, he guided her forward
and brought her mouth to his. He savaged her mouth as her body twitched. He thrust her back, yanking her off his cock. “Clean it,” he commanded hoarsely, pupils dilated. Phebe dropped to her knees and took his deflated cock into her mouth. Her tongue lapped at his flesh, sucking off his cum.
Meister ran his fingers through her hair, like he was patting a damn dog. He pushed her head off his cock, and Phebe got to her feet. Meister sat back, depleted, stuffing himself back into his cargo pants.
“Dance,” he ordered lazily, signaling for the jukebox to be turned up. Some generic rock song came blasting out around the bar. Phebe’s hands went into the air, and her lithe body began to sway. I couldn’t stop watching her, mesmerized by the way she moved. She was tall and too thin. But even looking as beat and broken as she was right now, all I could think of was her at that fucking tree. How she’d looked at me that day, her blue eyes slamming into mine, like she could see every fucking thing that was running through my mind.
I imagined that version of Phebe dancing, and I knew that if I’d been one of the fuckers she’d seduced at a bar, I’d have been signed up and singing hallelujah with the other cult fucks, just for the chance to nail her again.
She spun, facing me, and my breathing stopped. Even strung out on heroin, even starved and raped and captured like a dog, a fucking glimpse of a smile had spread on her lips. The dried blood cracked on her mouth as her eyes closed and her body kept beat to the rhythm. Too focused on watching her lost to the music, I barely saw Meister get called away to speak to Himmler. I just kept watching. Because I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
And then, with a heavy sigh, Phebe’s eyes rolled open and collided straight with mine. She stilled. At first I thought she’d just grown too tired to keep moving . . . but then she blinked, and blinked again, and tears filled her eyes.
“You.” Her hoarse voice was almost inaudible over the music. Her tiny body swayed, but this time it hadn’t got shit to do with the music. Her bloodied bottom lip shook, and, on unsteady feet, she stumbled toward me. With every step, her already ashen face paled further. And then the tears fell, one heavy drop at a time, running down her cheek, exposing the freckles that lay underneath the sweat, the blood and the dirt.