Page 82 of Heartless Heathens

She tilted her chin up to look at me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Sometimes the quiet scares me too though,” she whispered against my clothes.

“What about when you’re with us?” I hummed the question, backing her up until she was forced to sit on a tombstone.

It looked like it was made of white marble and it rose up from the ground. It was big enough to hold a body inside. A decapitated angel sat on the edge of it, at least without eyes it couldn’t judge us.

“It’s so loud I can’t think,” she whispered. “Like a million voices shouting over each other to try to get to me first.”

“What do they say?”

“Jump!” she mouthed, just barely audible.

“Then jump.” I raked my fingers through her hair and wrapped my lips around hers.

She pressed into me, clutched my t-shirt in her hands, and pulled me even closer.

“What if there’s no one to catch me?” she asked with a pained look on her face.

“If there’s no one to catch you, that would make me dead.” I gave her a serious look and she returned a half smile my way.

“If you’re dead then I might as well be too.”

“How romantic of you, pretty girl.” I breathed in her scent, something warm like vanilla but out here, mixed with all the wildflowers, it smelled even sweeter.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked nervously as I lifted my knee between her thighs, gently pressing against her center and running my hands up her sides.

“I want to mark this grave up with your blood, so that the next person who finds it thinks someone might have been killed here.” She sucked in a sharp breath, and I slid my hands up her legs, first unbuckling the holster and then grabbing at the waistband of her leggings. “Death on top of death,” I whispered.

I rolled them down her hips and she lifted off the marble for me to pull them past her thighs. There wasn’t going to be a lot of room to work here but I didn’t need it. I just needed my fingers. I pushed her down slowly, until her back was pressed flat against the stone.

She breathed heavily in anticipation.

I leaned over her, running my hand under her tank top and pinching her nipples between my fingers.

A mouse-like squeak of pleasure slipped from her lips.

With my other hand I reached between her legs and tugged on the string, her eyes widened in shock when I pulled the tampon out from inside of her. She tried to close her knees but I pressed against them, shaking my head.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you.” I pressed my thumb against her clit and rubbed up and down. “I’m gonna turn this tomb into a crime scene.” I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her.

Her hips began to move against my hand, like she wanted to ask for more but couldn’t get it out so her body did the work for her instead.

“Mmm,” she whined, desperately reaching for me with her hands.

She pulled me down so that I was practically on top of her, and I dropped my knee on the stone bed for leverage. I hovered over her, dipping my fingers inside her overly wet, warm walls. I shuddered at the thought of how my cock would have felt in there, grunting to myself in disappointment before plunging my fingers deeper.

She dropped her head back, closing her eyes and relishing the moment.

I pulled my fingers out from inside her and pulled her head back up, forcing her to use her forearms to prop herself higher so she could see what I was doing to her.

“Does this seem dirty to you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes before letting her cheek go.

My bloody fingerprints stained the side of her face, she didn’t answer my question. She breathed heavily, glancing down at my blood-soaked fingers. I used the remaining slickness still coating my skin to press hard against her clit before thrusting back inside her.

“I want this pretty cunt dripping, Mina.” I told her, curling my digits and moving in and out of her.

She moaned loudly, uncaring that we were out in the open or if anyone would hear. Only the mighty dead were here, and they didn’t give a fuck what we did.