“Lie down, Tesoro.”
She does, and I lie beside her, taking her left hand in mine, so Carter can relax on the other side of her. The three of us lay under the stars, as Heather asks quietly, “Do you believe in God?”
Carter chokes out a pained, “No.”
“Why?” Heather asks, her tone curious rather than judgmental.
“God is supposed to love the people he created. What kind of God would allow children to be abused the way we were? If God is real, he could’ve stopped it, but he didn’t. They say he’s the father of all creation. Fathers protect their children. If there’s a God, he’s a piss poor excuse for a parent. As bad as our real father, because he could’ve saved us, but chose not to. So no, I don’t believe there’s a God. Not a good one, anyway.”
Heather stares up at the stars in wonder.
“I agree, but can’t help thinking about how things so beautiful exist without a creator. The stars, the moon, things that emotionally move you. A person that causes you to feel something so deeply—in a way you never imagined possible. Do you think people come into our lives for a purpose, or is it just one big coincidence?”
I don’t respond, because this conversation seems more about her and my brother. I don’t want to interject my thoughts when I haven’t experienced what either of them have.
“The Prophet says it’s God's will,” Heather says quietly.
Carter growls angrily.
“The Prophet is a fucking pedophile. If you don’t kill him, I will.”
Her eyes light up with an unhinged glare, and she turns her head to face Carter.
“I’m going to kill him. Brutally. He is going to suffer. For every tear I’ve shed, he will shed two. He’s going to pay the price for what he has done to me, and all of the other little girls in my family. For every time I’ve wanted to die. For every time I’ve cut myself because of him. All of my trauma was caused by him. Every ounce of pain he caused will be given back to him. I don’t know when I’ll find him, but when I do, I’ll have the sweetest retribution.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CARTER
Her words have my cock hard as a rock. There’s something stunning about a woman that refuses to let a man hurt her. The Prophet has brought this on himself. He created the monster that’s going to end him. I’ll be there watching to make sure she’s safe, but this kill is hers. As badly as I want to rip him limb from limb, I won’t take this from her.
“Are you going to let us take what’s ours, Little Heathen? Out here where someone could see us? Knowing if any man other than us sees your body, I’ll kill them?”
“Yes,” she whimpers softly as her eyes lift to mine, reflecting my own desire right back at me.
“Knox, hold her hands over her head.”
He moves behind and pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it to the ground behind him. Then he takes her hands and presses them to his chest, holding them in place, causing a moan to slip from her lips. She thrives on physical touch. She’s been denied physical love her entire life, and now that she’s had it, it’s not a want but a need. It’s why I’m going to push myself to giveher what she craves. I’m going to give this woman all of me, or die trying.
I grab the back of my shirt and pull it over my head. “Open,” I say, and she immediately spreads her legs.
“Good girl,” I groan as I pull her skirt up on either side, revealing the black lace panties I haven’t stopped thinking about.
“These are so tiny, Little Heathen, with your pretty ass cheeks hanging out just enough to taunt me, to make my mouth water with the need to taste your pussy on my tongue. Was that intentional?”
“No,” she whimpers as I slide my hand under the thin fabric.
“Fuccckkk,” I groan, when I move my fingers along her soaked slit. I pull my hand out of her panties and suck my digits clean, enjoying the taste of her wetness on my skin.
Hooking my thumbs on either side of the lacy fabric, I pull them down her legs and over her feet before bringing the panties to my nose and inhaling deeply.
“Carter,” she says, as her cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“What, Little Heathen?”
She giggles softly.
“That was dirty, and kind of hot.”
