Page 57
Story: Ashes of Sin
“Tell us how you are feeling. Your fiancé is missing, and it’s been a number of days now.”
Are you in love with my father?
Yes.
Calling Kyra, who I was balls deep in last night for hours, his fiancé cuts at me in a way I don’t expect. Perhaps it’s me who is lying. The way her body fits with mine, how I tucked her under my arm and caressed her to sleep.
I don’t do that shit.
I fuck. I leave. I never think about them again.
But with Kyra...shit...I could have kissed her for a hundred hours, just gazing into those pretty eyes. Melting when her little mewls escaped.
The way her toes pressed against my legs, and she nuzzled into me.
Me. The man who had her drugged and taken.
I’m a fucking idiot for turning the tables on myself. If I was a child, Pierce would tell me how useless I am and that I couldn’t do anything right. Then force his cock down my throat. Or press his thumb inside my rectum.
I can’t explain why, but that act was far worse than having my father perform fellatio on me.
I told Parker once—the need to tell someone overwhelming me one night—and he said he felt the same. It was the unwelcome invasion, he thought.
None of it should’ve fucking happened.
It’s the stark reminder that these evil men deserve the suffering that’s coming to them.
“It’s been a hard week. We want Kyra to come home.” Pierce says as I swallow back the bile in my throat.
“Where do you think she is?” the interviewer asks.
“We don’t know yet, but we do know she left without her meds. It appears she may’ve stopped taking them for at least a week,” Pierce says as I frown.
Meds?
Does he mean her asthma puffer? Because I gave it to her. I had no information that she was on medication. What the fuck is he up to?
I should be enjoying his humiliation, but I should have known he would only face the media if he had a card to play.
“What type of medication are you referring to?”
“Well,” Pierce starts, and a chill goes down my spine. “Kyra needed support, like many do, so I don’t think there’s any shame in sharing that she has mental health issues.”
That cunt.
“Not at all.” She nods and gives a pitiful glance at the cameras.
“With the excitement of our upcoming nuptials we think she stopped taking them.” Pierce leans one arm on the table, smiling. “I know she’s spent a lot of time planning and getting a special dress. It’s a lot.”
“Yes.” The interviewer nods but this time I see the doubt in her eyes. Not about the medication, but the excitement in marrying my father.
Surely no one in America thinks Kyra is in love with him, do they?
“Do we think she is in any danger?” she asks my father.
“No. I’m confident Kyra will be home in another day or two.” Pierce says and then he turns his face slowly to look into the camera.
At me.
Are you in love with my father?
Yes.
Calling Kyra, who I was balls deep in last night for hours, his fiancé cuts at me in a way I don’t expect. Perhaps it’s me who is lying. The way her body fits with mine, how I tucked her under my arm and caressed her to sleep.
I don’t do that shit.
I fuck. I leave. I never think about them again.
But with Kyra...shit...I could have kissed her for a hundred hours, just gazing into those pretty eyes. Melting when her little mewls escaped.
The way her toes pressed against my legs, and she nuzzled into me.
Me. The man who had her drugged and taken.
I’m a fucking idiot for turning the tables on myself. If I was a child, Pierce would tell me how useless I am and that I couldn’t do anything right. Then force his cock down my throat. Or press his thumb inside my rectum.
I can’t explain why, but that act was far worse than having my father perform fellatio on me.
I told Parker once—the need to tell someone overwhelming me one night—and he said he felt the same. It was the unwelcome invasion, he thought.
None of it should’ve fucking happened.
It’s the stark reminder that these evil men deserve the suffering that’s coming to them.
“It’s been a hard week. We want Kyra to come home.” Pierce says as I swallow back the bile in my throat.
“Where do you think she is?” the interviewer asks.
“We don’t know yet, but we do know she left without her meds. It appears she may’ve stopped taking them for at least a week,” Pierce says as I frown.
Meds?
Does he mean her asthma puffer? Because I gave it to her. I had no information that she was on medication. What the fuck is he up to?
I should be enjoying his humiliation, but I should have known he would only face the media if he had a card to play.
“What type of medication are you referring to?”
“Well,” Pierce starts, and a chill goes down my spine. “Kyra needed support, like many do, so I don’t think there’s any shame in sharing that she has mental health issues.”
That cunt.
“Not at all.” She nods and gives a pitiful glance at the cameras.
“With the excitement of our upcoming nuptials we think she stopped taking them.” Pierce leans one arm on the table, smiling. “I know she’s spent a lot of time planning and getting a special dress. It’s a lot.”
“Yes.” The interviewer nods but this time I see the doubt in her eyes. Not about the medication, but the excitement in marrying my father.
Surely no one in America thinks Kyra is in love with him, do they?
“Do we think she is in any danger?” she asks my father.
“No. I’m confident Kyra will be home in another day or two.” Pierce says and then he turns his face slowly to look into the camera.
At me.
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