Page 83 of The Knucklebone Brothers

I was so lost in the horror of it all, my fingertips tracing the sharp, unnervingly human edges of the teeth, that I didn't hear them approach. I didn't hear the snap of a twig or the crunch of leaves. I just felt a sudden warmth at my back, a presence that made the air around me crackle. I flinched, snatching my hand back.

Maverick was there, his hand coverin' mine, his long fingers guidin' them back to the horse's grotesque mouth. He didn't speak, just moved my hand for me, tracing the sharp points of the filed-down canines, his touch a possessive echo of my own morbid curiosity. He pressed my palm flat against the wooden lip, his other hand comin' to rest on my hip, holdin' me in place. He was a solid, heavy presence, a wall of muscle and heat that was both comfortin' and terrifyin'.

"Yeah," Blythe's voice rumbled from my other side, low and grave, like the sound of stones shiftin' in a deep grave. "We carved 'em ourselves. Used the teeth of those scattered in this holler."

My breath hitched, a small, sharp gasp that got caught in my throat. I looked from Blythe's dead-serious eyes to Maverick’s and saw the same darkness there.

I didn't cower. I didn't wait. I just turned around, facing them, and I saw it—the hunger in their eyes, the way they looked at me. But I wasn't scared.

I grabbed Maverick by the throat, my fingers diggin' into his flesh, and pulled him down. I hovered my lips over his, breathin' him in. "You want to ride?" I whispered, my voice a low, dangerous purr. "I think the horses are hungry."

Then I climbed onto the first horse. I sat sideways, my legs dangling off one side. I leaned back, and I spread my legs apart, a clear, open invitation. "Come on," I said, my voice dripping with desire.

I looked right at Blythe, my eyes dark and hungry. "Turn it on," I commanded, my voice a low, dangerous rasp.

Blythe didn't hesitate. He stepped toward the crank, his eyes locked on me, a dark, possessive glint in his gaze. But before he could touch the handle, I reached out and grabbed Maverick by the front of his shirt, yankin' him close. I leaned in, my face inches from him, and shoved my fingers deep into his mouth, my nails diggin' into his tongue, pullin' it out of his lips until it lolled wet and red against my fingertips.

"Don't move," I whispered, my eyes locked on his. "Stay right there."

I guided him down, using his tongue as a leash, pushin' him toward the wooden floor. He didn't fight me. He didn't look away. He kept his eyes on mine, a silent, desperate plea in his gaze, as he sank to his knees before me. And then, the carousel began to slowly creak to life. The horses began to rock back and forth, and I sat there, my legs spread wide, my fingers still on Maverick's tongue, watchin' the world spin around us.

The wooden horse began to sway, a slow, hypnotic rhythm that matched the distorted music. Maverick didn't wait. He moved his head between my legs, his tongue darting out to trace a path up my inner thigh, the rough scratch of his mustache ticklin' my skin. He was lazy about it, his tongue draggin' heavily, teasing me, before he finally reached my upper thigh.

I gasped, my head fallin' back, and I felt Blythe from behind. He pressed his chest against my back, his hard body a solid wall of heat, and I leaned back into him, restin' my head. I moaned, a low, broken sound, as Maverick’s tongue found my pussy.

The rocking motion of the horse was workin' against us now. As the horse went up, it pulled Maverick’s tongue deeper inside me, and as it went down, it dragged him back out, the friction electric. He was eatin' me alive, his tongue workin' over my clit, his lips suckin' gently, as the carousel spun around us, a dizzyin' blur of lights and shadows. I was lost in the sensation, my hips buckin' against his face, moanin' and gaspin' as the waves of pleasure washed over me.

I reached back with my free hand, my fingers tremblin' as they found the rough, splintery nose of the horse. I ran my thumb over the sharp, human teeth, the ridges of them scratchin' my skin, and I used the friction to grind harder against Maverick’s face, helpin' drag his tongue up and down. It was like I was holdin' onto a beast, takin' control of the ride.

My other hand snaked around behind me, fumbling in the dark, until I found Blythe’s large hand. I didn't ask him to touch me; I forced it. I gripped his wrist and yanked it up, pressing his palm against my throat. I squeezed, hard, feelin' the pulse poundin' in his skin, and I guided his fingers to choke me. I wanted to feel the pressure, the constriction, the darkness rushin' in.

I continued to trace the horse's teeth with my other hand, my nails clawin' at the wood, diggin' in deep. And below, Maverick was a man possessed, his mouth and tongue workin' over me with a desperate, hungry intensity.

I arched my back, my spine bowing off Blythe’s chest until I was hangin' there, my head tilted back, my throat exposed. My eyes rolled back, the whites flashin', but I forced them open just enough to lock eyes with him. His blue gaze was seepin' into me, deep and drowning, a cold, beautiful thing that matched the madness of the night.

I was moanin' loud now, a ragged, desperate sound that echoed over the distorted music, my mouth hangin' open, gaspin' for air that I couldn't seem to find. And then, just as the wave crashed over me, just as I was comin' hard around Maverick’s face, Blythe leaned down. He spat a thick, hot glob of saliva right into my open mouth.

I swallowed it, the taste of his spit flooding my senses. I screamed, the sound raw and primal, as the carousel spun us into the dark.

Maverick stood up, a sudden, violent motion that grabbed me by the waist, liftin' me off the horse. He carried me a few feet away, to a small bench on the carousel, and set me down on his lap, straddlin' him, my legs wrapin' around his waist. My fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, and I undid it, yankin' his pants down, freein' his hard cock.

I reached down, and guided him inside me. I eased down slowly, inch by inch, takin' him in, feelin' the stretch, the burn, the sheer, mind-shatterin' pleasure of bein' filled by him. I threw my head back, and he trailed his hand from my face, down my neck, over my breasts, diggin' his fingers deep into my flesh, his grip bruising.

We moaned together, a low, ragged sound. I began to ride him, my hips movin' in a slow, deliberate rhythm, feelin' every inch of him, the ridges of his cock, the heat of him, the amazing, incredible feel of him fillin' me up. I was a creature of the night, a ghost of the holler, and I was bein' possessed by the man who owned me.

I looked up at Blythe, my eyes locked on his face, and he was standin' right behind Maverick, his hand strokin' his own hard dick. He held his hand out to me, his eyes dark. "Spit," he commanded.

I leaned forward, my mouth open, and spat into his palm. He caught it, his fingers wrapin' around his shaft, and he rubbed the saliva over the thick, veiny length of him, his eyes never leavin' mine. He stroked himself, his hand movin' fast and hard, matchin' the rhythm of my hips as I rode Maverick.

Maverick gripped my hips tight, his fingers diggin' deep into the soft flesh. He didn't say a word. He just pounded into me, hard and fast, his dick slammin' into me from the bottom, his body a blur of muscle and tattoos. I screamed, as he took me, claimin' me, ruinin' me.

Maverick’s face twisted into an animalistic ecstasy, his eyes rollin' back in his head. "I'm gonna come," his voice a low, desperate sound.

He slammed me down hard, pinnin' me against his chest, his hips flush with mine, and held me there, rigid and still. I could feel him throbbin' inside me, a wild, rhythmic pulse that sent shockwaves through my whole body. He filled me up, hot and thick, his come pumpin' deep into me.

The feeling was euphoric; a flash of pure bliss that made my toes curl and my eyes water. I felt closer to him in that moment than I ever had before. It was like a bond, a connection that went beyond words, beyond touch. It was like we were one creature, one soul, and he was a part of me, and I was a part of him.

He grabbed me by the hair, pulling my face to his, and crashed his lips on mine, a fierce, desperate kiss. It was a kiss of possession, a kiss of ownership.