Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Líadan

I 'm exhausted. It took all my strength to be able to walk to the car on my own steam. It's a mix of adrenaline crash, happiness that this part is over, and anxiety for the people Mickey found.

"No offense, but you look like a strong breeze is going to knock you over," Mickey grunts as he walks out with Brendan, Rory, and I.

"I kind of feel like I could sleep for a week," I sigh. "I don't think I've ever had such a long fucking day."

"Well, you were fucking incredible today," Rory says proudly. I thought he was disgusted that I was the Banshee everyone in the family spoke about in hushed tones, but that wasn't it at all. He was worried about what that meant for me. "You deserve to take a nice, long soak and go to bed."

After I change hotels, that is. There's no way I'm using the tub in my room.

"With ice cream," Brendan murmurs, sweetening the deal.

"God, that does sound good," I agree. "Mickey, those people…"

"There were about fifty of them," he says softly. "Men, women, and children. I have them stashed somewhere safe, explained they were free and that we were going to help them. My sister speaks a bit of Russian, which helped her communicate to some of the people there. There are so many different walks of people that were on the auction block."

"Do we have medical care for them?" I ask, thinking about Dr. Kurtz. He'd hate being pulled into this, but he'd do it. Leaning against the car in my warm jacket, I wait for Mickey's reply.

"Yes, they're all taken care of for tonight," he says. "We'll need to decide what the future looks like though."

"I'd like to go see them tomorrow," I say. "Figure out who wants to go back to their lives or needs to be placed with social services for the kids. Or if that's a good idea at all. The auction house is officially closed, yes?"

"Yes," Brendan says with a nod. "Before we left, Joe told me that he forced her to sign paperwork to sign the building, the business, and all of her belongings over to him. The building is large enough that we can possibly turn it into something positive. Maybe a school?"

"Or a rec center?" I suggest, chewing my lip. "It's right in the middle of a rough neighborhood. I'm sure Trila made a lot of money from the misery of others, can we use some of it to get this up and running?"

Joe joins us as I finish speaking, and he nods. "I don't want any of that blood tainted money," he grunts. "I'm not a saint, but I won't fuck with trafficking. Take it all, I think a really solid rec center would be great."

"Child services is so broken in Chicago," Mickey mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. The sun is beginning to set, more evidence that it's been a long ass day. "They aren't going to know what to do with these kids. Rory, can we talk to some of the family about fostering them? Paperwork so they can go to school and shit can be forged, I'm not worried about that. Nathan's son does good work and he's only seventeen."

My lips twitch at the idea of keeping it in the family this way, but it's hard to find a decent forger with a quick turnaround. These kids are going to need so much.

"Therapy," I say immediately. "I want to be able to offer it to those who want it. The kids especially should have some kind of support after everything. I don't know how far things went, but…"

"The kids were groomed to do whatever Cormac wanted," Mickey says, swallowing thickly. "The way they acted when I walked in made it obvious that they were willing to do anything to not be hurt. If we don't get them help, a lot of these people won't survive the next few weeks, because they'll kill themselves."

"Laura Mills works for the police department, but is close to my aunt," Joe says. "Dad's sister to be exact. Laura went into police work as a therapist even though she knows all about the mafia presence in Chicago. Laura still visits Aunt Cara, has tea with her, and sees really fucked up things every day."

"Cara told me about her," Rory mutters. "I'll call my sister and speak to her, see what she thinks so she can call Laura. I think you have good instincts, Líadan and that you're right."

"If we can have Laura present when I come visit tomorrow, I think it may help," I say, yawning.

"That's enough," Rory says, clapping his hands. "Off with you now. Go to bed. You've done more than enough to help clean up your father's messes. Take care of yourself."

"Okay," I admit, yawning again. "Ugh, you're right, I'm done for today. Can you set all of that up and text Brendan please?"

I never bothered to get a phone after mine was burned to a crisp. We have to get rid of this vehicle as well, since it's not ours.

Opening the car door, I slip into the seat as I wave goodbye to the men who have helped me so much today. Daddy's funeral is the day after tomorrow, and I can only hope I don't need to do anything but show up to remind myself the bastard really is gone.

"What are you thinking about?" Brendan asks as he settles into the driver seat.

"Daddy's funeral," I mutter. "I don't know if anything needs to be done for it."

"Nah, I called the funeral center earlier today. It's all settled. You don't even have to go to the viewing and funeral if you don't want to," he says, turning on the car. "We have to dump this vehicle, baby. Can you hang in there for a bit longer?"

"Mmhmm," I say, shivering from how exhausted I am. My body is shutting down, and it fucking hurts.

"We'll take a ride share to the hotel and then switch to something nicer," Brendan says, swinging the car onto the road.

"Okay," I say, dropping my head back onto the headrest. "I want to go to the funeral. When is the viewing again?"

"Tomorrow night," he says. "If we go, I want you to wear a black dress with a slit in it. I plan to do really fucked up things to you."

"With an invitation like that, how can I possibly say no?" I ask, an exhausted laugh releasing from my lips.

At least it's something to look forward to.

Friday morning

Taking a deep breath, I stare at the brick warehouse in front of me. It has no affiliation with auctions, trafficking, or anything of the sort, and Mickey brought them here until more appropriate housing could be found.

Jana, his sister, stayed the night with them, and they all slept on sleeping bags with heaters blasting warm air into the room. It's a far cry better than where they were, sadly.

"We can do this," Brendan says next to me, intertwining his fingers with mine. "Rory even did all the heavy lifting for us."

My lips twitch in amusement as we begin walking with Mickey inside. Rory got on the phone to the family, calling all the empty nesters whose children have grown up. He spoke to them about what was needed, how these kids would require a lot of love and support from whoever they live with, and six families stepped up to help.

There are two groups of children that are siblings, which means doing our damnedest to keep them together.

The other men and women we'll discuss their options with, whether they want to go back to their families, or start new lives with new identities. I am the poster child for having an abusive family. I totally understand if they decide to go with option B.

It's silent as we walk into the warehouse. It's clean, warm, and oddly quiet. My fingers spasm around Brendan's fingers as I see a woman standing just inside.

"Laura, sorry to keep you waiting," Mickey says. "I just had to bring Líadan and Brendan inside."

"Of course," she says, before glancing over at me. "Wow. People talk about you as if you're ten-feet-tall."

"Apparently, appearances are deceiving," I tease her, reaching out to shake her hand. I'm not naive enough to think Laura hasn't heard things about me.

Laura shakes my hand with a nod, her deep-blue eyes trying to figure me out. It must be the therapist in her, but I'm fifty shades of fucked up, so I wish her luck.

"Thank you for coming today, I want to make sure we have a good safety net for everyone as we plan where they want to go from here," I say as we start to walk further into the building. "It won't be perfect, but at least it's something."

It's more than I ever got, that's for sure.

"You sound pretty self righteous," she says. "Moving people around like puzzle pieces, offering to help them. What does a little mafia princess know about sex trafficking anyway? Outside of what you are responsible for?"

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. Sometimes, you can't win for losing. I'm sure it looks like that from her side.

"Are you sure you're the right person to help these people?" I ask, stopping and turning to face her.

I'm dressed for the viewing tonight, because I had a feeling I wouldn't get a chance to go back to the hotel. Mickey and Brendan are both dressed in black clothing, while I'm wearing a long black coat over my black dress which has a slit up the right side.

If Brendan really wants to enact his fantasy of fucking me at the viewing, I want him to have easy access to me. I finished up the outfit with tights that he can easily rip off me and high heels.

The ice and snow is beginning to melt surprisingly with the much warmer day.

"You know nothing about me, and yet you're judging everything you can possibly assume," I say. "I am not a woman you want to be on the wrong side of, so I will forget you said that. Assist me in this transition, ensuring everyone will get a happier ending. I can't change the last few hours, days, or months in their lives, however I can change what happens from here on."

"Líadan isn't the enemy, Laura," Mickey growls. "I'm going to tell Cara she must be getting senile in her old age to trust a misguided snake like yourself if you don't straighten the fuck up."

Laura straightens, blowing out a breath. "Miss Cara isn't senile," she grumbles. "You look so well put together in the midst of everything. I don't know how you expect to be taken seriously."

Shrugging, I think about the knife I have strapped to my inner thigh, and the sharp hair pins that are holding my chignon in place.

"I needed a hiding place for my weapons," I say easily. "I have a busy day, ending with a funeral viewing with a bunch of sharks, so I have to look the part. Judging a woman for her outfit seems beneath you. I am who I am, which means I have money. It doesn't mean I haven't bled for the pleasure to exist. I have a lot more in common with the people I'm trying to help. My motivation is none of your fucking business."

"I think you look pretty," a small voice says, drawing my attention. A girl who appears to be about fourteen is standing in front of me, and I force myself to keep a smile on my lips. Her eyes are dark and haunted, telling me a lot about the things that she's seen. I want to burn a lot of shit down.

God, there are children here. Planning, moving puzzle pieces, setting things into motion is very different from being smacked in the face with it.

"Thank you," I murmur. "Want to walk me to where everyone else is? The warehouse can't be the best place to sleep."

The girl shrugs as she begins to walk with me. "It's much better than other places," she mumbles.

"Then that's thanks to Mickey. We had to scramble a bit to find a place for everyone," I say. "We didn't know how many people there would be."

"Are you going to sell us?" she asks. "Why would you treat us so well if you weren't?"

"Because I killed a lot of people to ensure you wouldn't be," I say, telling her the truth. Mickey sounds like he just swallowed his tongue, but I couldn't give two shits. "I wasn't part of the bad things that happened, but I can help piece together a life worth living."

"I would say you're too pretty to kill people, but I know better now," she says, opening a door to a large room.

It's packed full of people, and Jana walks over to me with wide eyes.

"They were starting to get a little antsy," she says under her breath.

"Have you been able to talk to anyone? See what their circumstances are?" I ask, my gaze moving over the large room. The warmer weather today is keeping this room comfortable.

Holding up a clipboard, Jana nods. "I know who wants to be returned to their homes, who doesn't, and a variety of other information," she says. "We're ready for you."

"Can you handle this?" I ask, turning to Laura. She's looking at me with a fuck ton more respect, and I hate that it takes knowing that I went on a murder spree to protect these people for it to happen.

"Yes," she says softly. "I can."

The next hour, we walk through the room separately, gathering stories, concerns, and answering questions. A lot of them were worried about what this means for them, that they're stepping into another trap.

It's hard to trust when you've been fucked over so badly.

Faster than I would have thought possible, Mickey has a small army parked in the lot. Families are here to meet the children to offer them a place to stay, with Laura at the forefront to facilitate it all.

The men and women who are told over and over that they're free to do whatever they want, they simply need to make a choice.

"What if I choose wrong?" a woman named Kila asks. Her blonde hair is dull as she fidgets with it, her fingers twitching with nerves. She was walking home from work when she was kidnapped.

Trila had people employed whose only job was to provide her with inventory, by any means necessary. Kila lived alone, and had no one to notice when she disappeared except her boss.

"Give yourself a moment to breathe, and take a job in Chicago," I suggest. Glancing around for Mickey, I wave him over to me. "Tell me about what you're good at? If this was normal and I was offering you a job, what would you want it to be for?"

"I was a bookkeeper," she says immediately. "I can waitress, bartend, but I would be willing to clean toilets if it meant that I can walk away from all of this."

"I know someone who is looking for a receptionist for his tattoo parlor," Mickey says. I swear, this man knows fucking everyone. "There's an apartment above the place that you can live in as part of your wages. Do you want it?"

"Yes," she says without hesitation. Mickey grins at her excitement.

"He can't find anyone willing to deal with his surly ass. You'll be doing him a favor," he says. "You'll start immediately, and I'll drive you to the place."

Working through everything takes the better part of the day, helping people get train tickets or flights home particularly takes a while until the warehouse is empty and I'm looking out the window as the last of the cars leave.

We used Trila's money to pay for everything.

Seemed fitting, and there's so much of it. I hope she's incredibly uncomfortable in the afterlife right now.

"I can't believe you were able to get so much done," Laura says behind me. I don't take my eyes off the sun going down for a moment before turning to face her.

"I don't have any red tape to cut through," I say, shrugging. "Social services will never be called to overrule the families Mickey and I placed these kids with, they'll have entirely new identities. I had a practically unlimited amount of money at my disposal to pay for people to get back to their homes that wanted it."

"Are you going to accept a compliment or not?" she huffs.

"Eh, probably not," I say. "I'm terrible at accepting them, and this was a group effort. My presence is more to ensure everything went smoothly. If I didn't see it happen, did it actually happen?"

"Your paranoia is showing, Lía," Brendan says, alerting me to the fact that he came back inside.

"I think my hanger is as well," I mutter. "Save me."

"Thank you for your help today," Brendan tells her, extracting me from the conversation elegantly. "Do you think you could help find us a good therapist for them all? I know your job keeps you busy and it's probably against some kind of rules."

"I have a private practice outside of the police station," she says, recognizing the out for what it was and refusing to take it. "I need pro bono hours to keep my license. I'd like to continue to see the children, and as many of the adults that would like my services."

"That's very generous," Brendan says, tucking my arm in his. It would fucking suck if I slipped and fell walking out. "I'll let Mickey know. We have a viewing to get to."

"I'd give my condolences, but I'm not sure if I should," Laura says as she slips out of the door Brendan holds for her. Mickey left him the key to lock up with, knowing we'd see him later.

"None needed," I say as Brendan pockets the key after locking up. "Daddy was a melodramatic bastard."

"Then may he rot in Hell," she says, waving as she walks to her car.

"I think I almost like her," I grumble as Brendan escorts me to our ride share that drives up. His low chuckle makes parts of me clench deep in my body.

Getting in the car, he gives the address of one of my favorite sandwich restaurants, which happens to also be near the funeral home. There is so much about Chicago that is familiar, because I grew up here, but it also has so many toxic memories. I'm glad we'll be leaving soon, even if we don't have an idea of where to yet.

"How are you feeling?" he asks in a low voice, his mouth on the shell of my ear. "You worried the old men yesterday."

Thinking back to the way that Mickey kept walking by periodically today to press a protein bar or water into my hand makes me grin. God, I'm sure I did. I felt like shit last night, and almost fell asleep in the new hotel room while taking a bath.

The Waldorf Astoria more than made up for the terrible places we've been staying in and the lumpy mattresses.

"Tired still," I admit. "My energy levels don't seem to go as far as they usually do. I keep waiting for my period to show up and say ‘Surprise, Motherfucker!'"

Brendan snorts at that, shaking his head. "You don't even watch enough action movies to say things like that," he says as the driver pulls over at our stop.

Opening the door, Brendan helps me out and we thank our driver. The next forty minutes are spent getting dinner, chatting, and then walking to the funeral home.

"I wonder who Daddy left everything to," I murmur.

"You," Brendan says. "He was a dickhead, but I can't think of anyone else he'd give everything to. That is, if he even thought to have a Will. I'm sure we'll find out tomorrow before the funeral at the Will reading. We have an appointment in the morning."

It's overwhelming to focus on everything, so I asked Brendan to give me information when I need it, instead of dumping it on me. This way I can process it easier. I have too much to do to get overwhelmed. Also, since I don't have a phone, Brendan has been fielding all calls for me.

Brendan opens the door to the funeral home, his hand on my back to support me as I walk through it. The funeral director is waiting as he stands just inside, glancing back at the room Daddy is in.

"Is there a problem?" I ask. This is the funeral home that our families tend to use, so he shouldn't be this nervous.

"Two people had a fight, and a gun went off," he hisses furiously. "It's not the first time something like this has happened?—"

"No, but we're better than this," I grunt. "I'll pay for the damages. Do I need to know anything before I walk in?"

"No, Miss O'Brien. I think I'm just a little bit nervous still," he admits.

"I've got it from here, Mr. Fiddler. Go take a deep breath, smoke a cigarette, and I'll wrangle the family," I suggest. I once caught him smoking when I was a young child. It's one of the only functions Daddy took me to, and it was to a fucking viewing.

"I could never," he gasps, smirking as he winks at me.

"You're a natural with people, milseán ," Brendan murmurs as we approach the viewing room. "Stay nice and relaxed, get through this, and I'll reward you by fucking you on your daddy's casket."

Fuck. I shouldn't be wet at his words, but if I was wearing panties, they'd be destroyed. I'm wearing a bra because it's needed with this dress, but I drew the line at panties. My tights are a bit damp, unfortunately, though.

I pull my face into someone who cares to be here as I step into the room. Six men stand, all men who were Daddy's friends or close relatives. These men worked with him, but were not involved in the sex trafficking area of his business.

"Líadan," one of them says somberly. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

The words are hysterical, because I don't give a shit. Most of the world doesn't know how he died, though word has spread that I'm his heir. There is small talk, small prayers spoken at the casket, and an interminably long three hours of this.

"I'm only swinging by long enough to say I was here," Mickey says, stepping into the room.

"I don't blame you," I say, smiling. "He's still very dead."

Mickey smirks as he sits next to me. Brendan left for a moment to get a bottle of water, because all of this chit chatting is exhausting.

"Hopefully, he stays that way," Mickey teases me. "Look, you have your entire life ahead of yourself. This particular walk of life isn't an easy one. We all have your back, but is it too prying to ask what you want?"

Leaning back in my chair with my legs crossed at the knee, I think about it. I don't know what else I would do. I sacrificed so much to be where I am right now.

"Who else is going to keep everyone on the straight and narrow?" I ask honestly. "Well maybe not at all straight, but you know what I mean. If I disappear, so would the plans for everything else as I unravel what Daddy was involved in. I don't give a fuck about the law, I care about human decency."

I speak low, because we're in public, but Mr. Fiddler is the funeral home for most of the crime families in Chicago, which means he checks his establishment for bugs so often it's an obsession.

One I very much approve of.

"I don't want to live in Chicago," I admit. "I'll run things, set up necessary facilities and businesses, but I'm tired of being bound to one place."

"I think that's doable," Mickey says, crossing his arms as he gets comfortable. "Sell your dad's place, or demolish it. That place may as well be filled with ghosts."

"You're not wrong," I murmur as Brendan walks quickly back into the room. He relaxes slightly as he sees who I'm talking to, and I have a feeling he was waylaid.

That thought is proved correct as an influx of men follow him.

"Is it over yet?" I ask, sighing.

Mickey checks his watch, his head bobbing from side to side. "You have half an hour, kiddo. Go be awesome and shit, and I'll see you tomorrow," he grunts, standing.

He doesn't even bother to greet the people walking in, making me press my lips together in amusement. To anyone else, it would look as if I'm pissed off. I guess it works.

Standing, I feel a wave of dizziness, making me clench my fist as I shut my eyes against it. Fuck me.

" Milseán?" Brendan asks, and I can tell he's standing in front of me, blocking any eyes.

"Dizzy," I say softly. "Room is moving."

"Sit and drink. You can talk to people as well sitting as you can standing," he grunts. Nodding, I sit with a deep breath, grateful when I open my eyes and the world is no longer spinning.

Pressing the cool bottle of water against my neck, I pull open my coat. Maybe I'm just feeling overheated.

"It's warm in here, isn't it Líadan?" Brendan asks, raising his voice as he moves away.

The men who are either paying their respects to Daddy or waiting for me to notice them agree that it's warm. Thankfully, they don't stay long, and I take a deep breath once the viewing time is over.

"I want my reward," I rasp, brow raised as I gaze at Brendan, draining the rest of the bottle in my hand dry. "Do I get it?"

Brendan gazes at me with calculating eyes, gauging how I'm doing. I would never ask for sex if I don't actually want it, so he's not going to insult me by asking if I'm sure. Swallowing hard, he nods.

"You can have the whole goddamn world, Lía," he growls. "I'll be right back."

Standing, he doesn't have to go far, because the funeral director is walking into the room to check on us.

"Is everything alright? Do you need the room for any longer? Take your time, by the way," he says with a small smile.

As warm as I was in here, I know that the coffin is temperature controlled, so there's no real hurry.

"Everything is perfect," Brendan says. "Lía would like a private moment with her father. Is it possible to close the room off and tell anyone else that comes by that the viewing is over?"

"Yes," Mr. Fiddler says, already turning to comply. "Take as long as you need."

Brendan waits for a moment, chuckling under his breath as he listens to a late mourner that is turned away. Bursting into motion, he walks over to me and lifts me into his arms.

"I'm not going to ask you if you're up to this because you'll just stab me," he growls, kissing me hard. "However, know that I'm going to worship you, as you deserve. This has been a rough fucking week."

"Aye," I sigh, pulled in by all the Irish brogue I've been subjected to the last few hours.

Walking up to the front of the room with me in his arms, Brendan kisses and nips at my neck and lips. Placing me carefully on my feet, he waits to make sure I'm not dizzy before pulling off my coat and tossing it onto a chair.

Frowning at the casket, he closes the top of it before lifting me up onto the flat surface. Laying me back, he pushes my dress up, ripping a large hole in my tights. His own coat joins mine as he gazes down at me.

"Look at how pretty this pussy is," he growls, making me writhe on the cold casket. His warm breath works perfectly at odds with the temperature before he licks up my core.

"Goddamn, you taste so good."

Sucking hard on my clit piercing, he makes me moan for him, my fingers moving to tug on his hair. Face raising, he grins with my arousal on his lips, and I hold back my whimper.

"Hands over your head or I'll stop every time, baby," he murmurs, watching as I obey him.

And then he pushes my legs up and apart so he can lick, suck, and give his full attention to my cunt. My fingers link to keep myself from touching him, and I begin to wail, uncaring of who can hear.

"So fucking beautiful," he groans. "You taste so good. I'm gonna fuck you over your father's body. He doesn't get to decide what you do anymore. You're mine."

"Please," I gasp as he releases one of my legs to push two thick fingers into my sopping wet cunt. The stretch feels so good as I roll my eyes, my hips bucking upward for more.

"More."

"You‘ll take what I give you," he growls. "Enjoy the ride, milseán . Now break for me."

Sucking hard on my clit with a pinch of teeth, he makes me explode with a scream, gushing all over his face and fingers. His piercing along mine never fails to make me crazy. Slowly pulling his fingers out of my pussy, he sucks on them with a smug look on his face.

"Brendan," I gasp, struggling to catch my breath after having my soul sucked out of me.

Opening his pants, he releases his dick from his pants, pumping it at the base twice.

"Don't beg, pretty girl," he murmurs, dragging his cock over my core once, twice, three times, bumping my overstimulated clit.

"Fuck me," I mewl, lifting my hips up for more friction. His large hands are pinning my thighs to the polished wood. My overheated skin loves how cool it is, despite the fact it's making goosebumps appear under my tights.

I'm still completely dressed despite the huge tear in my tights, and I have to say this is one of the hottest experiences I've ever had.

"In due time, little brat," Brendan growls. "Whose pretty little cunt does this belong to?"

"You!" I gasp, whimpering because I need his dick right fucking now. My traitorous mind whispers that there's another man I belong to as well, and my greedy pussy contracts hard.

"You fucking know it," he murmurs. "There's a certain hacker you belong to as well, don't you, baby?"

Torturously slow, he thrusts his cock inside of me, his fingers holding me still.

"Fuck, I bet your mouth would suck his dick down so good, wouldn't you, Lía?" he teases, his hips rocking back before thrusting back in punishingly hard. The ache, the pinch of pain, and stretch is welcome, his words making my mouth water.

"Yes," I gasp, giving him my words before my silence makes him stop fucking me. I'll do anything to keep him pistoning his dick instead of me. His thickness makes my breaths hitch as my breasts bounce with every thrust.

"Fuck, oh."

"Such a good little slut for us, aren't you?" he says. It's almost as if Jordan's presence is with us, my father forgotten, despite the fact that I'm laying over his casket.

"Yes," I whine. "Harder."

Brendan's been holding back a little, his knuckles white as he holds tightly to my thighs. "I'm barely hanging on, baby. You want more?"

The tip of his cock rubs perfectly along my g-spot as he pushes my thighs up just a bit more to hit it. Brendan controls my breaths, my orgasms, everything. His cock is pulling the strings today.

"Yes. Brendan!" I scream as he pulls back until he almost pops out and then snaps forward. Fucking me without abandon, all I can do is feel as my thighs begin to tremble.

The shaking and twitches spread over my body as he fucks me, his mouth twisted into a snarl as he pumps his cock in and out of me. The only sounds in the room are that of the casket's stand shaking underneath me, my screams, and Brendan's grunts and heavy breathing. Occasionally, I can hear the way my cunt sucks his cock in with wet sounds, making my cheeks heat.

"Do you hear how greedy your cunt is?" he asks breathlessly. "Drench my dick with your release, baby. Show me how badly you want my cum."

Lifting my leg over his shoulder, he leaves the other pinned to the casket as he rubs my clit with his thumb. I keen as he gives me what I want, my eyes rolling because it feels so fucking good. My body is overwhelmed with stimulation in the best ways, and I can feel his cock getting thicker inside of me.

"Attagirl," he rumbles as he fucks into me. "Your pussy is strangling my cock. You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes, oh God," I gasp, clamping down around him as I shudder, coming hard.

Brendan's eyes roll as he roars, following after me as he explodes inside of me. Rope after rope of cum fills me up, vaguely making me wish he could make me pregnant.

It's impossible though, right? That's what the doctors said. My vagina is scarred, my ovaries lazy.

It can never happen.

Those thoughts don't stop my body from feeling floaty and happy as Brendan leans over me to capture my lips. The platform the casket is on groans angrily as it takes his weight and mine.

I think it'll be able to handle it, and then it's leaning dangerously to the side, making me tear my lips from his and squeal as the casket starts to slide with me on it.

Brendan picks me up while still connected to me, holding me tightly with his hard cock still inside of me. Taking a shuddering breath, I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder.

"Oops," Brendan says irreverently, making me burst out giggling. "Thank God for the locking mechanism on these. We'll mention it to Fiddler if we run into him. You good?"

I can feel him twitching inside of my pussy, making me whine in complaint.

"I don't want to move yet," I sigh. "I'm also worried about how much cum is going to gush out. This is a messy situation."

"I'll make you feel good however I feel like," he says, striding to a tissue box while holding me in this arms. My lips still twitch in amusement that this little box is being used for something other than tears.

Grunting as he pulls his dick free, he sits me on a side table to clean me up. As I thought, it's messy, and Brendan is a smug son of a bitch as he does the best he can with the tissues.

"That's the best I'm going to be able to do," he says, grinning. "I'll make it up to you with a pizza?"

"You always know the way to my heart," I say, sliding off the table to pull down my dress as he throws out the tissues. Deft fingers have him putting his gorgeous dick away and fixing his pants, and then he's helping me into my coat.

"It's easy when I've loved you as long as I have," he says simply, putting on his own coat. "We paid our respects, now the rest of the night is ours. Soon, you'll never have to think of him again if you don't want to."

As we leave behind the viewing room, I hope he's right. When the shadow of a man is as long as Daddy's was, it's hard not to think of him.