Epilogue II

EPILOGUE II

“Why are we here? Carmine wanted us to go to the warehouse,” I point out as Colson glides his open palm on the steering wheel, turning into the long driveway of the Cromwell Estate. The iron gates open once he punches in the code, and we remain in silence for what feels like an eternity as we drive up the expansive cement.

“Colson,” I breathe his name before reaching over the center console, settling my hand on his thigh. “What’s the matter?” I ask, sensing his tension.

“Nothing, mama. I just need to do something.” He tries to reassure me, but his cryptic tone is doing nothing to convince me he’s okay.

Hand in hand, we walk in silence until we reach the front door. Reaching for the lighter in his back pocket, he takes it out, flicking the dial. “I hate it here,” he states, staring at the lingering flame. “Everything about this fucking place, I despise it,” he continues, this time releasing the dial, extinguishing the flame. Still holding my hand, he moves forward so his back presses against the front door, pulling me in closer. I crash into his chest, and he wastes not even a second to steal a kiss. Our lips find solace in each other’s. My tongue slithers into his mouth, barbell unintentionally tapping on his front tooth. “Ouch,” he laughs against my lips.

“Oops,” I tease, continuing to kiss him. “Go ahead, continue. Tell me why we’re back in the house of horrors.” My words are playful but this place truly is what nightmares are made of.

He doesn’t respond, instead moving us away from the door enough that he can swoop me into his arms. Tossing me over his shoulder, he lays a firm tap on my ass before opening the front door and carrying me in.

His baritone vibrates my torso draped over his shoulder. “You’ll see.” Great, more cryptic words.

My eyes roll. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Carmine; his riddles are starting to rub off on you,” I point out as he walks us down the hallway, and as we break the threshold of the dining room, I hear something or someone scream beneath the floor.

“Wait,” I slap at his backside, but he doesn’t stop walking. “Colson, I heard something,” I announce, but he fucking ignores me.

Agitated, I start kicking my feet, but it still doesn’t grab his attention. If anything, he squeezes me to him tighter.

“Puta madre,” I rasp.

Slap.

“Colson, you better–”

Slap.

“Ah, you impossible man! Stop spanking me!” I yelp out, trying to suppress the giggle that wants to come out from how ridiculous that sounds.

“Why, mentirosa? Don’t you like when I spank you?”

Yes.

“No,” I lie, earning me another flat palm to my ass that is literally aching for him to fuck it, eat it, something…anything but tease me.

Rounding the table, he lifts me off his shoulder, placing me on the table where he always sat.

“You know, you can lie to me all you want, but…” his words halt as his gaze travels down to the hand that is lifting the fabric of my skirt, exposing my slick pussy to him. Trailing his finger at my opening, he teases me. He hums before he continues, “this pussy never lies to me, does it?”

I pant as the finger that was grazing my slit is now joined by two others, dipping into my ready walls. “Isn’t that right, mama?” he asks curling his skillful fingers in deeper, slowly fucking me with them. “Este coño nunca le miente a papi,” he groans, and it’s enough to make me squirt right here. Hearing him starting to speak Spanish to me, especially when he’s being dirty, makes me even more feral for him.

“Yes,” I pant as he ups the pace and I writhe against his hand, deepening how he’s fucking me with it. “It’s just I heard something,” I whimper and whine as he rubs his thumb on my clit, working every part of me. I know him…he’s trying to distract me, and he knows that I won’t fight it, not when he knows how to push all my buttons and make me feel the way he does.

“Ssh.” His hush is a command. “We’ll deal with that later, but right now, it’s my turn,” he says with his fingers still in me as he lowers himself to the chair in front of my parted legs.

I go to shift, wanting to be on his lap so I can be closer to having him in me, but another smack–this one harsher than before, and even more delicious–slaps against the sliver of my ass that’s raised for him to grab. “Siéntate,” he commands.

“I am sitting already,” I point out, earning me another spank.

Arousal begins to drip from my pussy even as he slows the tempo before pulling his fingers out of me. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he pops one in his mouth, sucking up my taste. “Fuck, mama, you taste so fucking good. But it’s not enough. I need more.”

Scooting my ass to the edge of the table, I spread myself further for him. “Then take it,” I say, offering my needy cunt to him.

Reaching for his lighter again, he takes it out with a fresh pre-roll. Bringing the unlit blunt to his lips, he lights it, taking a quick hit before guiding it to my lips. “Abre la boca,” he commands. Fuck, helping this man learn our shared language is the best thing I could have ever done. Spanish rolls so effortlessly off his tongue, just like the pleasure he loves to give me with it.

Obeying his command, I open my mouth, pinching my lips and inhaling a long hit.

“Lean back and enjoy while I get to eating this pussy. I’ve been craving you all day.” He clicks his tongue. “You’re not allowed to leave this fucking table until I’m done eating, comprende?”

I nod, lifting my hips up, needing his mouth on me right fucking now as I take another hit. The weed quickly settles into my body, making my pussy throb even more than it already is with him near it.

Another tap of his hand on my ass cascades over my skin as he lowers his stubbled chin to my clit. The pad of his tongue laps at the sensitive nerves, causing my back to arch, pushing my pussy into his mouth. “Finally,” he hums, his words vibrating my center. “I get to feast on you like I wanted to every time we sat at this very table.” He stops, driving his wet muscle into my pussy, and I moan in response. After a few more strokes of him fucking me with his skillful tongue, he blows a warm burst of air at my wet slit. “Except now you’re mine, not his. Isn’t that right?” he peers up at me from between my thighs, waiting for a response.

I nod.

But it’s not good enough.

“Raiden,” he groans my name, wanting me to say it.

“I’m yours,” I pant, bucking my hips forward, desperately needing him to devour me.

He shakes his head, flicking his tongue on either side of my needy sex. “You know what I do when something is mine, right?”

A stream of smoke billows his way as I stare at him, studying the devious expression that has suddenly overtaken his face.

“I’ll do anything to keep it that way,” he cryptically declares, reaching for something in his pocket that I can’t see, but when a flash crosses the room, I can guess that he’s about to stream me fucking his face to whoever must be watching–helplessly–in the basement.

Diving in my pussy, he doesn’t hold back. Ravenous strokes of his tongue seem to intensify, as do the muffled shrieks from what I can now see of Brett’s bound body through the surveillance control panel.

Allowing my head to fall back, I let him devour me, grinding with every stroke of his tongue, getting lost in every flick, suck, and lick, giving everything to him.

His calloused palm sinks into my flesh, holding me in place as he sucks my clit, making my entire body quiver.

“I’m going to come,” I yelp, exhaling the stagnant smoke in my chest, before putting the roach out on the table.

Orgasm on the horizon, I push him off me.

“What?” he yells out.

I respond by settling my feet on the floor as I pivot and bend myself over the table. “If we’re giving him a show before we get rid of him, then I want the last thing he sees to be you sticking every fucking inch of that horse cock in me. Ahora,” I command, and with a speed I’ve never witnessed, he drops his pants.

Fisting his shaft, he draws a line against my pussy, coating his length in my juices. Stroking himself with my added arousal, he lubricates himself before bringing his pierced crown to me.

As he drives a forceful thrust in to enter, I yelp. My pussy accommodates the ridges of his cock and his size. Thrust after thrust, he fills me with his cock, stretching my walls as he slides in and out, fucking me rough and passionate.

Reaching over, he takes my hair in his fist, draping it in front of my neck, creating a collar to rein me in with.

My pussy clenches at the feeling of his filling me and robbing me of air.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises.

“No,” I pant out, reminding him that I don’t like the good girl bit.

A raspy chuckle sounds from him as he lays another spanking on me. “How could I forget, you aren’t a good girl, you’re papi’s dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

Fuck yes, Colson, that’s it.

I nod, panting like a fucking dog at the degradation, my pussy suffocating his cock as he pounds into me, not giving up on the tempo or the chokehold he has on me with my own hair.

“Damn, you’re so close aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” I pant out.

“Did my filthy little whore edge herself too much? She desperate to come?”

“Yes,” I gasp, feeling my orgasm cresting.

“Yes what?” he demands, taking his free hand over to my clit, spanking it.

“Papi!” I squeal. “Fuck, I’m going to come!”

“That’s it mama, wait for me, I’m almost there,” he groans, driving harsher thrusts into me.

He loosens the tight hold on my hair he’s been reining me in with and turns my head to face the monitor of the surveillance system.

“I want you to look at the camera when we finish. Look at the sorry piece of shit, while I fill you with my come. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

“Fuck, yes, just fill me already!” I yelp out, doing as he said and staring at his sorry excuse of a brother, who’s forced to watch his brother fill me with his come, claiming me before we do what Colson brought us here for. To put an end to this chapter that’s haunting us.

Fuck first, kill after.

Our orgasms pulse together before Colson pulls out of me and immediately falls to his knees to trail kisses and nibbles at my inner thigh, taking whatever of our combined arousal that is leaking out of me.

He hums against my skin. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of how good we taste together.”

I reach for the lighter on the table as I turn around to look at him. “We go good together,” I remind him. “So, how are we doing this?” I ask, already taking note of the gasoline jugs lining the room in my periphery, answering for me.

It’s poetic really. Having this house that was never a true home to Colson, with all its elaborate embellishments and the trauma that still lingers within these walls, go up in flames. Brett included. Since the Cromwell name and fortune meant so much to him, this is a fitting way for him to go.

Slipping his pants back on, he reaches for something from the ground, handing me one of two masks.

“Like our fathers intended. Burning this motherfucker to the ground…juntos.”

Together.

THE END