9. Dominic

NINE

DOMINIC

Sleep descends from the corners of the room, and my eyes droop. I quickly jerk my head up and rub my eyeballs with the heels of my palms.

I've spent four nights in Camryn's room while she slept. For four nights, I've sat here, guarding her like I'm some prince in a fairy tale. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. Why am I here? Must be some twisted voodoo shit on her end, because I find myself back here every night, listening to her breathe. But fuck, it's getting difficult to stay awake.

"Good boy. Stay here," I tell Bruno, scratching him behind the ear before rising to my feet and stretching my arms overhead. I'm thirsty as hell.

I peer at Camryn, whose long, pale leg peeks out from beneath the quilt. She looks peaceful when she sleeps.

Drawn closer like a magnet, I brush a strand of hair away from her face, careful not to wake her. Her skin reminds me of fragile porcelain—so smooth it should be illegal.

I trail my finger lower, pausing at the corner of her mouth, my heart thudding in the ensuing silence.

Her soft lips part, and I know I should walk away. This temptation, this urge, is not welcome. But I trace her lips like a druggie that says, Just one hit, and then I'll stop.

"Fuck me," I breathe as her next warm exhale fans my skin. This is torture.

It's official: I'm a masochist. I don't even like Camryn. If it weren't for her, my father and brother would be alive. They weren't even supposed to collect her from the studio that day. Her mom was.

Slowly easing my middle finger inside, I slide it over her wet tongue, and my cock hardens as I fill her mouth with my ring finger, too.

"Have you ever sucked dick, little sister?" I whisper, fucking her sweet mouth with my fingers in time with the insistent throb in my cock. My balls ache with the need to dump my load inside one of her tight holes. I'm not picky.

Besides, I can go back to resenting her tomorrow and hating what my life has turned into because of that night. I wouldn't be stuck in this forsaken town in the middle of nowhere if it weren't for this little vixen with her seductive lips?—

"Dominic!" a feminine voice whispers from behind me, and I spin around in time to see the door slide shut with a soft click.

Bruno growls, his body tense and quivering. With my heart now clear in my throat, I glance at Camryn, who whimpers softly in her sleep.

A peal of feminine, haunting laughter travels through the thin walls as I exit the room, ordering Bruno to stay.

Nothing happens when I try the light switch, which is fucking typical. Nothing ever works when I need it to.

A sense of dread has wormed its way beneath my skin, so I shake it off and set off down the hallway. It's a clammy night, and the intense heat lingers despite the thunderstorm earlier in the day. My T-shirt sticks to the sweat between my shoulder blades.

Up ahead, something dashes across the hallway in a flurry of long hair and a flowy skirt. I come to an abrupt halt, my heart pounding. What the hell was that? A child?

"Dominic!" Another peal of laughter disturbs the thick silence, this time from downstairs. I slowly step forward, straining to see in the darkness.

The hallway seems to stretch on for miles.

When I finally reach the stairs, I grab hold of the railing and begin my descent into the thick void below, which gapes like an open mouth.

The wood creaks beneath my weight, and the temperature drops with every step. I hold my breath as goosebumps raise the hairs on my arms. Why is it so cold down here? How is it even possible?

"Dominic," a woman's voice sing-songs like a twisted lullaby designed to lure me closer. "I'm in the kitchen."

As I step onto the landing, my shadow falls on the silvery strip of moonlight on the floor. "Who's down here?"

The entrance to the kitchen opens up like another hungry mouth, much like the stairs.

"Dominic…" The ethereal voice is everywhere: in the walls, the floor, and the roof. It's in the moonlight illuminating the floorboards and within the frantic beat of my heart.

I walk closer to the yawning doorway, closer to the chill in the air and the sense of foreboding.

My shoulder brushes up against the doorframe, and I pause before I can step over the threshold. A woman stands by the sink with her back to me, dressed in an obsidian dress with a high lace collar. Her dark hair is tied up in a severe bun, revealing her pale neck, and a white apron breaks up the inky black. She's beautiful in a regal way, breathtaking yet ghostly.

She slowly turns around to face me, the candle in her hand flickering and casting shadows across her features. "You came, Dominic." Her sharp eyes swim with blackness as I enter the room. "I've waited for you."

"Dominic," a child's voice taunts behind me.

I turn around to see the girl from upstairs hovering in the doorway with a doll clutched in her arms and tattered ribbons in her raven hair. I remember that doll from somewhere.

I sway as I shake my head to clear the haze clinging to me like a foggy mist.

"Run along now," the woman tells the child, her voice washing over me like a warming drug.

Something is very fucking wrong.

Turning around, I frown when my stepsister drops to her knees in front of me, dressed in her little sleep shorts and tank top. "Camryn?" I ask, confused. "When did you wake up?"

Instead of answering, she lowers my joggers and strokes my hardening cock. I lose my train of thought when she peers up at me with those big eyes. Beside her on the floor, a candle dances wildly in its holder.

"What a big cock you have." She takes me in her enticing mouth and gives it a hard, long suck before releasing me with a pop and gazing up at me with a mischievous smile. "First, I tasted your daddy's, but it was too big. Then I tasted your brother's, but it was too small. And then I tasted yours, which was neither too big nor small." Her voice distorts, taking on a frightening quality as her grip on my dick tightens. "It's just right."

Nausea swirls in my stomach, but I can't move, frozen by morphing fear and pleasure.

The candle flares brighter and flickers over her sharp features, revealing her blown pupils. She drags her tongue up the hard length of my dick, tracing a blue, angry vein. "I like it so much, I'm going to eat it all up."

With a final flick, a small tease, she takes me into her mouth before my sluggish brain can register the sinister edge behind her words. She hums around my dick and sucks me deeper.

"Jesus fuck," I grunt as my fingers get lost in her locks. I have never once experienced anything like it. She deep-throats me like she was born to suck my dick, her tight throat strangling my length. But what makes me lose my damn mind, what finally pushes me over the edge, is the way she digs her nails into my balls.

Pain erupts, and I barely restrain a chest-deep groan as her head bobs in my hands with enough enthusiasm that I have to plant my feet to keep my balance.

She releases me and grips my balls in a tight, fierce grip that borders on a threat. "Give me your fucking cum, brother. I want it all over my face."

I can barely breathe, my fingers tangled in her locks, while she jacks my dick like she's on a mission to milk me dry. I'm convinced of it.

"This is what you've always dreamed of, isn't it? Me on my knees, at your mercy, like a good little whore? Yes, I can see your thoughts. Every deviant, delicious desire."

Another twist of my balls, and I jerk.

"That's it, brother . Come on my face. Paint me like a dirty slut."

I erupt.

Strings of cum rain over her face as I choke on my own saliva. She sticks her tongue out and tries to catch it before smiling wickedly. When she looks at me, cum is beading on her lashes and dripping down her face.

"Now," she whispers, still stroking my sensitive cock as she leans in, "it's time to die."

I stiffen at the sound of playful giggles behind me, just as a sharp pain erupts across my lower back. Glancing behind me, I see the little girl smiling up at me with a letter opener in her hand that's covered in blood.

She jabs me again, sinking the blade deep, this time in my side. I grunt as I stumble back, blood pouring from between my fingers like a river of crimson—so dark it almost looks black.

Losing my balance, I fall to the floor. She comes for me with her doll gripped in one hand and the letter opener in the other. Then she's on me, sinking the blade deep into my eyeball.

I jerk awake. Bruno lifts his head, whimpering, before licking the side of my face. Still groggy from the nightmare, I pat my waist to ensure I'm uninjured, then scan the dark bedroom. Camryn is asleep on her front with her arms beneath the pillow and the quilt pooled around her waist.

"Jesus," I breathe, rubbing my tired eyes. What the hell was that nightmare? I'm fucking losing it.

Bruno nudges my arm with his damp nuzzle. Rubbing his scruff, I gaze back at the door. Something catches my eye that wasn't there before. "What. The. Fuck?" I whisper, unfolding and rising to my feet.

There, propped up against the door, is the doll.