I turn to Declan. “You want to lick my cum off her, don’t you?”
He hesitates, watching my cum glide down her slit.
All I can think about is our cum oozing out of her three holes. I grab his hand and pull him toward me. “We’re going to do this together.”
On our knees, our faces an inch away from her hot, wet cunt, we part our lips and clean her pussy with our tongues. It’s erotic, tasting our depravity and consuming our lust.
“Fuck,” Declan moans. His eyes fall closed. He’s in the moment.
This is when he’s with me, when he doesn’t think about how he should punish himself before the man in the sky does.
I grip the back of his neck and tilt his head back. His mouth opens wide, and I spit my cum inside, admiring how it rests on his tongue. “Give it back to me, Dec. Fuck the blood of Christ. This is the sacrament.”
Declan’s eyes open. The look of peace vanishes, and I see the lurking sense of panic, feel it creeping into his flesh. He’s not in the moment anymore. His body is rigid. His hands shoot up.
I’m on the ground in a flash, his hands pressing on my throat. I can’t breathe. My cock rises. I want to fuck and be fucked. I crave it. My mouth opens, but the pressure of his hands makes it impossible for me to speak. He spits the cum in my mouth. I get lost in the sensation of running out of oxygen and the flavors flooding my mouth.
“You want to corrupt me, Lorne. You want me to be depraved like you. Like Cas. To have no remorse?”
He moves his body on top of mine, his hard cock moving closer to my mouth. “You want a communion, Lorne. I’ll make you drown with the heavenly father’s love.”
Chapter 11
Declan
Rage builds within me as my fingers push against Lorne's throat. “Foxes have dens, and birds have nests, but the Son of God has no place to lay his head. But your mouth is a good place for his cock.”
Lorne’s face has turned red from the pressure of my hands, and my cock lodged in his throat. My head falls back as power surges through my veins, holding his life force in my hands. “The great Lorne Miller. Nothing but my little fuck toy. What would happen if you died right now? What would you say to your maker? Would you beg forgiveness or demand to burn in hell? “
I push up to my knees and pull out of his mouth. He gasps for breath as soon as I release his throat. But his rock-hard cock tells me he’s enjoying every moment of this.
His emerald eyes lock with mine and he smiles. Spit froths at his lips and trickles down the sides of his mouth. “If loving you will banish me to hell, I’d burn for all eternity.”
His words enrage me because they wound me more than anything else anyone can do to me. I can handle the physical torture the man offers, but I cannot handle his compassion. I don’t deserve it.
I push my cock back into his mouth and mount him, my hands back on his throat, my abs smothering his face. His hands tap my side, but I don’t move. I pound into his warm mouth with my eyes closed as I try to escape anything that lies heavy on my heart or mind. For once, I want to forget the torment raging in my soul.
My dick jerks as my body stiffens. I groan as my cum sprays out of my cock into his mouth. He sputters as cum and saliva spill from his lips and land on the stained carpet.
Shock rocks me as I realize what I’ve done. I lost control. I succumbed to the darkness that whispers to me. She referred to me as the spawn of Satan, and that’s exactly what I am. There was no fall for me because I was the seed of evil planted into innocence.
I jump off Lorne, not wanting to be in the presence of his warmth any longer. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve grace. I don’t deserve loyalty. “Don’t fucking tell me that shit again. Because next time, I will kill you.”
Lorne’s laugh is a wheeze. “You think that’s a threat? I like to hang myself and jerk off.”
“How does it feel not to fear the afterlife?”
“The abyss is a void. You can’t fear something when it’s nothing.”
He’s never told us where his desire to fuck while he’s on the brink of dying comes from. But that’s what connects the three of us. We’ve each witnessed something that’s fractured our minds and fostered a deviancy so deep under our skin that we’ll probably never be able to escape it. But as I stare at the sweet angel unconscious on the bed, I can’t wonder if bringing her into our madness is going too far. The root of my existence is a demonic man corrupting a pure woman.