My head snaps forward as something, or rather someone, hits me in the back of the head.
Whirling around, I sneer at Jackson. “What the fuck, asshole?”
“The teacher says you’re not paying attention during class again,” Jackson retorts.
Annoyed with this part of the night, I pretend to listen to the rest of what Mikah says, but I don’t tune in until I hear her name—Tati. The obsession none of us can let go of.
Because she got away.
She’s like the missing puzzle piece—the missed shot that cost us the championship game.
“We almost caught her, but some fuckface clown dressed as asamurai too early for trick-or-treating got in the way,” I snap. The laser pointer in Mikah’s hand snaps in half, and I share in his frustration.
It took us three years to build up enough fake intel to get her back to the Gordon Estate in Texas without her suspecting foul play, and some nut-buster mucked it up in less than twenty minutes. The only upside is that we know she’ll be here tonight, hiding like she always does.
“Okay, bring ’em in,” Mikah instructs, pointing to Jackson and me.
Rising, I shove my mask into the back of my black tactical pants and follow Jackson out into the crisp autumn air. Even with all the cadavers in varying states of decay, the air in Vermont just seems that much fresher than the Texas humidity.
“Who do you think they delivered this time?” Jackson asks, and I shrug.
“Does it really matter? They’ll be dead before dawn and erased like they never existed,” I nonchalantly reply.
Rinse and repeat.
“Don’t you get tired of the same bullshit process, every single time?” I lament, my frustration mounting the more I think about it. “We’ve been at this for eighteen years. No breaks—no variety.”
It’s Jackson’s turn to shrug. “It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”
Kicking the rock at my feet, I begrudgingly accept the truth. We’re owned—a deal signed in blood and kept by fear.
I find myself asking if it’s worth it until we unload our cargo. All women and fucking gorgeous.
“Looks like it’s a put out to pasture batch this time,” Jackson croons, playing with the pussy of a redhead.
Whistling, I take my fill, plucking, pinching, and squeezing as many tits and asses that I can before Mikah recognizes we’re goofing off out here.
My fingers are deep in the pussy of one girl, and she moans, “Please let me come.” The wanton plea shoots straight to my cock.
“Fuck this shit,” I mutter, throwing caution to the wind and shoving her down to her knees. My pants are undone, and my dick is in her mouth in less than thirty seconds.
“Griff,” Jackson starts to warn, but I’m already waving him off. Thisbitch has Hoover head skills, and there’s no chance, even under the threat of violence, that I’d stop before I come.
Her tongue snakes around my shaft, her piercing flicking the crown, and my knees go weak. She has a fucking split tongue body modification. My eyes roll back, and I groan so loud that I know Mikah and Fredrick can hear me from inside, but I don’t care.
Fisting her hair, I thrust in deep, not pulling back until I touch the uvula. The bitch doesn’t gag, she just moans, the vibration tickling my balls.
I need to fuck.
Yanking her away, I drag her to the stack of chopped wood and bend her over. I kick her legs wide, spreading her ass cheeks until I see a sweet pink pussy—willing and ready. Usually, I like to get them nice and worked up, but I’m already on borrowed time. Instead, I spit and watch as it rolls down the crack of her ass.
“This is about to be a dirty, quick fuck, darling. I hope you can survive,” I warn, running my fingers up and down her slit until I’m sure her pussy has a decent amount of lubrication. Dry pussy means dick burn, and nobody likes a chafed cock.
Holding onto her hips, I angle her body, giving me perfect access to her cunt. Then, I slam inside her, pistoning—hard and fast, chasing my nut. But it’s not enough.
“What the hell is taking you bastards so long?” Mikah’s voice booms, and I know he’s seconds away from coming to check.
I need better leverage.
