Page 25 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Tiernan

“I want to cut his dick off. Can I cut his dick off?” Rory asks.

Michael starts crying, trying to break out of the ropes that have him tied to the chair as he begs to be let free.

I lean against the wall next to my sister. I’ve spent some time playing with Jensen, of course, but I’ve kept close to her most of the time, wanting to make sure she’s okay.

Rory and I beat the shit out of him until he passed out, woke him up again, and now Rory’s playing with him.

Torturing isn’t something I’ve done a lot of—Rory or Cil either—but most of what he’s been saying is all talk.

What he wants is to get inside Jensen’s head, and he’s doing it.

Sometimes fucking with someone’s mind is worse than any pain you can cause them.

“Sure.” I shrug, which makes Jensen scream and cry even more. “That’s what happens when you rape people.” I squeeze Aislin’s hand, then walk over to Jensen. “When you stick your dick where it doesn’t belong, you lose it. You make me sick.” I spit on his face.

“I didn’t touch her! I wasn’t going to touch her. It was a misunderstanding.”

“What was?” I cross my arms. “What did you do?”

His gaze shoots back and forth between Aislin, Rory, and me. He’s bloody and bruised. It stinks like blood in here too, but we’ve done well confining it to the plastic rolled out beneath the chair.

“Tell me what you did, and I’ll let you keep your dick.”

He wails, and I can’t pretend my stomach isn’t twisted up.

Doing this shit always fucks with my head.

There’s still that human part of me that knows this is wrong, that knows I should hate this more than I do, the part of me that knows he has family who will grieve him, and I hate that for them, but he doesn’t deserve to be here either. If anyone deserves to die, it’s him.

I hold out my hand, and Rory gives me his knife. I draw circles on Jensen’s boxer-covered groin with the tip. “What did you do? Tell me, or I let him cut off your cock.”

“Fuck…it was dumb, all right? I don’t know why I did it!”

“Did what?” I need to hear him say it.

He’s bawling, his words all jumbled with his tears when he says, “I put something in her drink.”

“What?”

Snot runs down his face and into his mouth. “Roofy. I fucking roofied her, okay? I swear I won’t do it again. Just please don’t—”

I drop the knife and punch him in the face, cutting off his words. “You think you can put your hands on my fucking sister! You’re going to suffer for this. You’re going to go through so much pain, you’re going to beg me to kill you.” I kick him in the chest, and his chair falls over.

“No,” Aislin’s soft voice comes from behind me. There’s resolve to it, that don’t-fuck-with-me tone that says she means business, but there’s pain in it too.

“No what? We can’t back out now. That’s not how this works, Ash.”

“I know. I just…I want it to be done. I want it to be over. I just want to kill him.”

“Ash…” Rory starts.

“I said no!” she snaps, pushing off the wall and walking over to us. “Give me your gun.” It’s the last thing I want to do, but I listen to her, handing over the warm metal that fits in my hand so well. “Pick him up, Rory.”

He curses but does as she says, lifting the chair. Jensen’s eyes are wide and panicked, and he’s fighting to get out of his bondage again, but Rory is fucking good with a knot, so that’s not happening.

“The safety is on,” I tell her, not leaving her side.

Aislin takes care of it and lifts her arm. The whole thing is shaking, my sister standing there, doing her best to point it at him, but not pulling the trigger.

“Go,” I tell Rory, who walks out without a word. He and Cillian are the best, and again, I’m so fucking thankful for them…for my brothers. “You don’t have to do this,” I say softly.

“I need to.” A tear spills from her eye, running down her face, chased by another and another.

“No, you don’t. He needs to die, yes, but you don’t have to be the one to do it.” My chest aches, heart pounding as I reach for her. “Let me do this for you, Ash.”

“It should be me. I should be able to…fuck, he wanted to rape me, Tiernan.” Her voice breaks, the tears flowing freely now.

“That’s because there is a darkness inside him…not you. This doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong…stronger than me.” I reach out and touch her arm. “I had to do this before I was ready. I don’t want that for you. You deserve better.”

Finally, she turns to look at me, her broken heart in her teary eyes. “You deserved better too.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “We can’t go back in time, but that doesn’t mean you have to deal with the same thing. Let me bear this burden.”

Aislin gives me a slow nod, then hands me the gun.

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes. Just…do it quickly.”

I lift the gun, turn off my brain, disconnect from this moment, and pull the trigger. The bullet goes straight through his forehead, Jensen slumps over, and that fast…he’s gone.

The moment I’ve got the safety on and the gun tucked away, Aislin is hugging me. My hold is tight around her as she cries into my throat, her whole body racked with nerves.

I did this to her. I tried to let her do this. I could have broken my sister.

Maybe I did.

“I’m sorry, Ash.”

“What? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t protect you.” Dean had. And then I brought her here. What is wrong with me?

“You’ve done nothing but love and protect me my whole life. I’m the one who almost drank something from a stranger. I’m the one who thought I could do this. All you have ever done is be here for me.”

I shush her as she cries, kiss her temple, run my hand through her hair, wondering how the hands that just took a life so easily could be the same ones that bring her comfort.

“We need to get cleaned up and go,” I tell her after a few minutes. It’s not smart to stay any longer than we have to.

Aislin nods.

“You go first.”

She heads into the bathroom, where we each have a change of clothes. As I make my way to the back, I text Conan, letting him know it’s done.

Conan: Be there in an hour.

Me: We’ll be gone by then.

Conan: Anything I need to know?

Me: I think we’re good. I almost hit Send but then add: Thank you.

Conan: No problem, kid.

“She do it?” Rory asks when I get outside.

“Nah.”

“Good.” He takes a hit from his vape.

“Agreed. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and get the fuck out of here.”

He follows me back into the house. Aislin is already out of the restroom when we get there. “I’ll wait in the car.” She doesn’t look toward Michael Jensen’s bloody, dead body, and I’m glad for that.

It doesn’t take Rory and me long to each take a quick shower and put our clothes in a bag for Conan and then for the three of us to leave. Rory drives, and I sit in the back with Aislin, arm around her, her head on my shoulder.

I don’t know how to explain the feeling I get after killing someone.

I don’t regret what I just did. I’m glad he’s dead.

There’s no sadness either. I’m just…empty.

Is that a good thing? No idea. Most people would probably say yes, but when this is the only life I’ve ever known, the only life I’ve ever had, it just is.

Still, I do my best to comfort Aislin.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, and I lift it to see that Cillian has messaged. Thank fuck it’s not my father. I’m not in the headspace to deal with him right now. Honestly, I always just want to be alone after a night like tonight, but that’s not in the cards at the moment.

Cillian: I brought your boy home with me.

Me: I didn’t ask you to do that. He should have stayed in his dorm until tomorrow.

Cil knows how I am. I didn’t specify for Dean to stay in the dorm, but Cillian should have known better.

Cillian: No. He shouldn’t have.

My pulse jumps.

Me: Why? Did something happen with him?

Cillian: No. I brought him home for you.

I bite down the urge to lash out at him, but honestly, I don’t have the fucking energy for it tonight. I’m already wrung dry.

Instead of responding, I toss the cell to the seat. Rory and Aislin don’t speak the whole drive, and I don’t either. The only other time I look at my phone is when Conan texts to let me know he’s there and everything will be taken care of.

We finally get home, and as we’re walking toward the house, my sister grasps my hand. I squeeze tightly so she knows I’m there and won’t let go no matter what she needs.

Cillian jerks the door open the second we hit the porch. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, we’re all right. He’s fucking dead,” I answer while he looks at Aislin.

“Hey, you okay?” She nods and goes into his arms, Cillian hugging her. “You did good.” He kisses her temple.

“I didn’t do it.”

“That’s good. None of us want that for you,” Rory replies, and she lets him hug her too.

“Thanks, Ror…Cil. I’m going to bed.”

I nod, then say, “I’ll be up in a minute.” I’m not leaving her alone tonight, though I crave the same thing—not to be around anyone. Dean will have to understand that Aislin is the most important thing.

“No. Not tonight. I just want to be by myself, T.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I love you, but the decision isn’t yours to make. I really just want to pass out.”

I’m still not convinced. She’s never seen me shoot someone before. Maybe it was harder than she thought? Maybe it’s me she doesn’t want to be around. Maybe this will be the thing that comes between us.

“I love you.” Aislin kisses my cheek, then heads straight for the stairs.

My gaze finds Cillian’s, then Rory’s.

“We’ll make sure she’s good,” Cil says.

“It’s not you,” Rory adds. “I’m sure tonight was just a lot for her.”

“I’m fine.” I shake off their concern, though I’m really not fucking fine. The thing is, I know I’m overreacting, know that I’m all up in my fucking head. Tonight wasn’t anything new, but it did feel different. “Where’s Dean?”

“In your room.”

Though I shouldn’t have missed it, I notice his black eye for the first time. “What the fuck happened? Who hit you?”

“Your boy. Punched him back. Tell him not to do it again, or I won’t go so easy on him.”

“Jesus.” I roll my eyes. It’s always fucking something. “I can’t deal with this tonight. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow. And next time don’t fucking bring him here unless I tell you to.”

I disappear upstairs without another word. It takes everything in me not to go into Aislin’s room. Considering I dragged her to a murder and almost let her pull the trigger, respecting her wishes is the least I can do.

I open the door, and Dean is sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed except for shoes. The only light on is the one on the nightstand, his bag beside the bed and his leg bouncing as our gazes clash.

The door closes with a click behind me. No words fall from my mouth. I don’t know what I want to say, if I want to say anything at all, so I just walk…don’t stop walking until I’m right in front of Dean, standing between his thighs. Reaching out, I brush my thumb over his swollen bottom lip.

“Your fucking friend is a dick.”

“And you’re not?” I manage to say.

“Not as big of one as you.”

“I never claimed to be anything else.” Still, my muscles tighten, throat closes up, almost making it hard to swallow.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Dean hit him first. Cillian’s not dumb.

He protected himself, but I still want to burn the world down anytime someone touches him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I try to step away, try to put some distance between us because I’m a fucking mess tonight, but Dean’s hands shoot out, grabs hold of my wrist, doesn’t let me move.

“I should have been with you all night.”

Before I realize what’s happening, he pushes his other hand under my shirt and grabs my gun. Fuck. I forgot it was there. I’m making a whole lot of stupid mistakes where he’s concerned.

My hand is on his throat a second later, wrapped around it, but Dean doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away, just takes my gun from my jeans and sets it on the nightstand.

My gaze falters when he leans in, lifts my shirt, and presses his mouth to my stomach, kissing me.

I melt against him when he uses his teeth on me, alternating between nibbling and biting, and somehow, all that emptiness inside me is replaced by want, desire, this crazed, frantic need that makes my head spin and my heart race.

That makes me feel on top of the fucking world.

I let go of his throat, pull my shirt off, and drop it to the floor.

Dean continues licking and sucking, kissing and biting all over my abs, while he works open my jeans. My dick is already throbbing between my legs, fat and swollen and hungry for him.

Once he has my pants down, Dean shoves his face into my groin, mouthing my hard cock through the fabric of my black boxer briefs. I hiss in response, hand on the back of his head, pushing him closer, as if there’s any space between us left at all.

This, what he’s giving me, is exactly what I need, exactly what I wouldn’t have allowed myself to take if he hadn’t been here.

“You’re fucking with my head,” I admit, looking down and watching him act like he’s a starving man and the only thing that will cure him is my cock.

“No.” He hooks his fingers in the band of my underwear. “You’re fucking with mine.”

My dick springs free. Dean doesn’t get my boxer briefs past mid-thigh before his mouth is wrapped around my dick. It feels so fucking good in the wet heat of his mouth that I could die right now and have no complaints. My knees go weak, and all I can think is more, more, more .

I want all of him.

Want to possess him.

Want to own him.

“Look at me.”

I’m surprised when Dean tilts his head up, but there’s still fire in his gaze.

He doesn’t do anything easily, and as much as it should and does piss me off, I crave it too.

He makes me wild, has worked his way into all these unexpected places inside me that I never knew were there until he showed up and pushed all my buttons.

His blue stare doesn’t leave mine as I pull back, then push into his mouth again, fucking his willing lips, and I almost beat my chest with pride because he takes it so fucking well.

Because he’s clearly hungry for it.

My balls slap against his chin, his bruised, swollen lips stretched around my erection. Each time I hit the back of his throat, Dean swallows around me, hands on my hips, squeezing me, doing his best to mark me while he lets me work out all the shit in my head on his mouth.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t see the gun. Shouldn’t be so entwined with our lives, but he is, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take him from me.

He’s mine until I’m done with him.