The Angel
At first, I think nothing of it when I see the Sinners lurking over by the girls’ dorm. They have one downright evil sister among their group, and she has a room there, though she spends almost all her nights with her brothers in the creepy old gothic tower on the edge of campus that used to house the priests. I heard it was condemned and was going to be torn down before their father pulled some strings to acquire it for them. It only has six bedrooms though, and I don’t even want to think about which bed the she-wolf sleeps in. I wouldn’t be surprised if she made the rounds—one night of the week in each brother’s bed, and one night in her dorm room.
Or maybe they all sleep hanging upside down like bats.
I could charm more information out of one of the unfortunate souls who’s gone home with a Sinner at some point, but I really don’t want to know.
The Sincero family belongs to Diablo’s Disciples, the rival gang to my family’s, and that’s all I need to know. That beef’s been going on for decades, and though I don’t know all the details, I know they’re the reason my mom’s face is bisected by a gnarly scar.
She wears it well, with equal parts grace and sass. I’m lowkey proud to have a badass mom who could make a mean pancake or make a bitch disappear, depending on her mood.
That doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive the Disciples for causing it.
The Sinners are all fucking psychos, so seeing them harassing some poor freshman who’s just trying to make it through the drizzle on her way to class is hardly new. But then I’m reminded that Mercy is one of the poor freshmen they’ve been known to harass, and all logic goes out the window. I storm that way, ready for war, and charge in like a bull.
I know I look scary as hell—at six-foot-four inches of pure muscle, I look more like my uncle than my dad, and I spend as much time under the needle getting inked as I do in the gym getting ripped. On the inside, I like to think I’m more golden retriever than Doberman, but when the situation calls for it, I’m not above using my size and looks to intimidate people. Unlike Heath, I don’t usually go looking for trouble, but I’ve never backed down from a fight. If I did, I wouldn’t be in the Skull and Crossbones, no matter who my family is.
When I reach the wall of four Sinners standing shoulder to shoulder and shove them apart, I don’t find the scene I expected. Instead of Mercy huddled and terrified, she’s standing with her feet planted wide, fists raised, blue eyes blazing with defiance. Three of the Sincero boys are on the rain-soaked ground at her feet—one clutching his throat, another his nuts, a third one apparently out cold. I take them in, then return my gaze to Mercy, a low whistle escaping me.
Damn, girl.
Taking care of business like she did when we were kids, except then, she had the rest of the Quint backing her up. Now she stands alone in the rain, blood dripping from a busted lip and hair coming unmoored from its usual tight bun, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. She’s never looked more fuckable in her life.
“Are we done here?” I ask. “Because I think Saint showed y’all what happens if you fuck with his sister. Did you forget so soon?”
“Why don’t you run and tell him?” Bain taunts, twirling his oversized umbrella over him, his sister, and his pretty-boy brother. “We’ll finish her off for you while you’re gone. We all know you can’t get the job done.”
His sister sucks her teeth and then grins, canines like fangs between her red lips, as she looks me up and down. “I’d let him try.”
“What?” I bark.
The others snicker and nudge Morticia, and I realize they think I’m caught up on what she said, which is vaguely interesting, since I always thought she was a lesbian. But I don’t really care what she does in her spare time, as long as my dick isn’t part of it. In fact, my testicles are crawling back up into my body just thinking about it, and even the frigid October rain couldn’t do that.
But no one gets to question my ability to get a girl off, not even these assholes. I am a certified sex god and a stud, and no one better even hint differently.
I bow up and glare down at Archer, since looking up at Bain makes my puffery less effective. Archer’s the only one not huddled under the umbrella, so he’s an easy target.
“Did you say you were going to finish her off?” I ask, nodding to their fallen comrades. “Looks like she was doing a fine job finishing you off. I knew hockey players were pussies, but I didn’t know a chick could singlehandedly take down all seven of you.”
Hey, if they’re going to hit me in my point of pride, I’ll hit them in theirs.
I smirk down at the boy. “Got something to say back to me, little guy?”
Bain shoves the umbrella handle at his sister and steps out from the shelter, getting up in my face so his brother can melt back into his place.
“You think you’re going to disrespect my brother like that and walk away?”
That word triggers an automatic response in me—people die over shit like that on our side of town. The taunting is over. My hands ball into fists, my gaze sweeps them for weapons, and adrenaline courses through my bloodstream like a shot of heroin.
Bain throws the first punch, and I absorb it as best as I can because he’s quicker, but I’m stronger. Pain explodes up my side, but I stand my ground and return the blow, going for his face. He ducks, and my fist glances off the fucking razor-edge of his jawline. He jumps back, then swings again, his long limbs letting him connect fully while I have to step in. The result makes his blow more powerful, since he has my momentum on his side. But my next blow connects squarely with his gut, and he doubles over in pain, the breath knocked out of him. He lunges, tackling my legs like he’ll take me down. Too bad I’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of those moves on the football field, from guys who weigh twice what this gangly bastard does.
I ram my elbow down into his back, letting him push me back a few steps so I don’t lose my balance. Then I box him in the ear, and he loses his hold and crumples. Grunts and cries of pain echo around us, and I spin to find Mercy facing off against Cruella and the last standing Sincero brother. He lunges for her, and she sidesteps, but he catches the collar of her uniform. A ripping sound echoes through the rain, and her shirt gapes open, the jagged tear exposing one of her tits, clad in a nude bra that doesn’t quite hide the point of her nipple in the cold.
Ah hell no.
I grab the Sinner by the back of his neck and hurl him to the ground before jumping on him. I don’t restrain myself as my fists pound his face in. He’s lucky I don’t tear his eyes out for seeing Mercy that way like Saint would. I’m a civilized heathen, though, so I settle for making sure they’ll be swollen shut for a week.
Bain scrapes himself off the ground and comes at me again, knocking me off Rafe. When I roll away, I see Mercy and the evil queen rolling around on the grass. Mercy’s so docile and obedient that it’s hot to see her throwing a punch and not just ducking and cowering. I might spontaneously ejaculate if I saw her mud wrestling any other chick, but Sister Sincero is so vile that not one dude on earth would want to fuck her. Unless he’s into having his dick dissolved in a pit of acid, that is, since that’s definitely what resides between her legs.
I’m distracted enough that Bain gets in a few hits, anyway, including busting my eye and lip. The taste of my own blood fills my mouth and clears my head, and I slam a fist into his jaw so hard he flies backwards off me and thuds to the grass in an unconscious heap. I scramble up in time to see Evil Incarnate sitting astride Mercy, both hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing until Mercy’s face has turned a shade of scarlet that’s bordering on maroon.
I’ve never hit a girl before, but I’m not about to let Salem choke out our lamb. Not when I know she’s not just bigger and tougher than Mercy, but she fights at the underground, bareknuckle fight club my cousin runs. She could probably knock me out if I’m not careful.
I grab the red-lipped Sincero bitch by the high braid she’s wearing today and haul her backwards. She gives a cry of fury as she loses her hold, probably pissed that she was yanked back from the edge of victory. She spins and slashes her pointed claws through the air, shrieking and hissing like a possum. Her nails rake down my cheek and neck before I toss her away from me. She goes tumbling across the grass, and I turn back and hold out a hand to help Mercy up.
More than half the Sinners are still conscious, but since they seem disinclined to continue fighting, I decide to call it a day. I’m not looking to get arrested for murder, and I need to get Mercy somewhere safe.
“You’ll pay for this,” swears Killian as we walk away.
Ignoring the Sinners entirely, I lead Mercy towards her dorm. There’s always something to pay for, some new injury in the latest brawl. We’re always out to get each other with escalating violence. That’s what happens when you have rival gangs on the same campus. The Skull and Crossbones were here first, and we bring a lot of benefit to this town. If every Disciple disappeared from Faulkner tomorrow, no one would lose any sleep over it. They’re nothing but trouble.
“Are you okay?” I ask Mercy as we reach the steps of her dorm. “Did she hurt you?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. I can tell she’s trying to be brave, and even though I can’t tell for sure if the wetness on her face is just rain, I think she might be crying.
“Let me come in,” I say. “I’ll get you fixed up.”
“I’m fine,” she says, her lips tightening. The motion sends a fat drop of bright blood oozing from her broken skin, and she winces.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say, striding up the steps and waiting at the door for her to unlock it with her keycard. There’s no way I’m going to let her go back to her room and sit there alone, beaten and shaken. Fighting takes a lot out of a person, not just physically. There’s a psychological toll to violence that I know all too well, and even if Mercy doesn’t, that’s all the more reason for me to be with her right now and help her process her emotions.
She looks like she’s debating whether to argue further, but she must see that my mind is made up, because she sighs and unlocks the door. We hurry inside, ducking our heads so the nun at the front desk won’t see that we’re both battered and bleeding. Fighting is strictly forbidden on the Thorncrown campus. Some bullshit about Jesus turning the other cheek.
I know better. If my mom had turned the other cheek to a Disciple, they would have slashed that one too.
“You weren’t half bad back there,” I say, watching Mercy from the corner of my eye as we climb the stairs. “Not even sure you needed my help. You might’ve polished off all seven Sinners if I hadn’t intervened.”
She scoffs. “Beginner’s luck. They weren’t expecting me to fight back. I just took them by surprise, that’s all.”
“Hard to get the jump on seven people.”
“Well, luckily you did intervene,” she says, stopping at her door and turning to me. “Thank you.”
“Don’t act like this is goodbye,” I say, tipping my head toward her door. “Let me in.”
“Angel…”
“Mercy,” I say, stepping closer and lowering my voice. I smile down at her, my fingers ghosting over her waist. With her shirt plastered to her from the rain, I can see all her curves, the beautiful womanly figure that she tries to hide. All I can think about is peeling those clothes from her body, tasting her skin, her nipples, her cunt. If it takes all day and night, hell, all my life, I will kneel before her and worship her like the goddess she is until she stops pretending otherwise.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a tremor in her voice.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” I say. “When I’m sure you are, I’ll leave, no questions asked.”
“I’m okay.”
“I need proof,” I say. “Sometimes it takes a minute for the aftereffects to kick in. We’ll just hang out until then.”
“Aftereffects?” she asks, her brow furrowing.
“Yeah,” I say. “When people are the victims of random violence like that, it can make you feel… A lot of emotion. Anger, fear… I’ve heard of people getting attacked once and they literally were scared to leave their house in case it happened again, and they became this total recluse. Can’t let that happen to my little M, can I?”
“I’m not going to become a recluse because of that,” she mutters, like I’m silly to even suggest it, but she unlocks her door, and that was the goal anyway.
Inside, I push the door closed behind her and pull her close.
“It’s our job to protect you,” I say. “We promised we would if you came to the chapel, and you did. We’ve already failed you today. We didn’t realize you needed a guard around you at all times, but now I’m thinking you do.”
“I’m fine,” she insists, trying to pull away.
I pull her back and start undoing her buttons. “Obviously, you’re not. Look at you. You’re covered in dirt and blood, your shirt is torn, your lip is busted, your throat is bruised… We didn’t protect you, but we’re going to do better from now on. Let me make it up to you.”
“This isn’t—I’m fine, really,” she says, but there’s another tremor in her voice.
The adrenaline must be leaving her, and I’d bet money she’s going to start crying at any moment.
“I’m going to make it up to you,” I say, peeling her wet shirt open. Goosebumps sweep over the exposed globes of her breasts above her bra, and all the blood in my head rushes to my dick. It’s all I can do not to drop to my knees and worship them.
“Angel,” she whispers, her breaths coming quicker, which only makes her tits heave, which makes my dick harder and my head emptier.
“First let’s get you out of these wet clothes so you don’t catch cold,” I say, peeling the torn garment off her and tossing it into a wastebasket in the corner. “Then we’ll warm you up.”
Slowly, I trace my knuckles down her taut tummy, stopping at her belly button. She wears her skirt low on her hips, so it’ll cover more of her legs, and I get a little lightheaded seeing the goosebumps sweeping over all that bare, ivory skin. It’s unclaimed land, just begging to be taken, bitten, bruised. I want to leave my mark on her, not to hurt her, but to know she’s wearing it under her clothes. To know she’s mine, and her body bears the mark of my claim as surely as mine wears the tattoos that show I belong to the Skulls.
I thumb her bellybutton, the soft swell of her lower belly, her skin cool and so soft it makes my mouth water and my fingers twitch to spread over it, to touch every untouched part of her that remains.
“You can do mine,” I say, taking her hand and raising it to my chest. “I know you want to. I’ve seen you looking. It’s okay to touch, lamb. I want you to.”
She shudders and draws an audible, shaky breath.
Encouraged, I press her fingertips to the top button on my shirt. “I’m all wet too,” I murmur, dropping my forehead to hers. “Just like you.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her rosy, pink lips parting in a gasp. Her finger curls, slipping between the buttons of my shirt. She hooks it around, then stops herself, hanging there like she’s clinging to me more than undressing me. I grab the front of my shirt and rip it open. Her eyes fly open, and she gasps as buttons click and roll across her floor. Before she can step back, I grab her hand again, pressing her cold palm to my hot skin.
Slowly, she raises her eyes to mine. I press her little hand harder against my muscled chest, letting her feel the fevered heat of my body when she’s near, the thunder of my heartbeat. Holding her gaze, I trace my thumb down her body again, hooking it into the top of her skirt. I bear down, pushing the waistband low enough that my thumb finds the swell of her mound, the soft curls of pubic hair inside her underwear.
I suck in a breath and drop to my knees, unable to hold myself back any longer. I grab her skirt in both hands and drag it down, her panties with it.
She cries out and grabs for me, but before she can push me away, I yank her hips forward. I bury my nose in her and inhale, a moan slipping from me unbidden when I fill my lungs with her delicious scent again.
“Angel,” she cries, gripping my head.
Ignoring her, I slide my tongue out, dipping it between her lips. I like that she’s not shaved, like the sensation of her soft hair against my lips. It’s sensual in a way I haven’t experienced, so raw and primal for such a buttoned-up girl. Somehow, it makes her seem both more innocent and more wild than the brazen girls with hairless bodies who expertly ride us the first chance they get, eager to add us to their lists of conquests. I’ve gotten bored of them, bored of the lack of variety. After a while, all the shaved, perfumed pussies taste the same.
Mercy is the first thing that’s been new in a long, long time. I love her purity, her untamed tangle of red hair, her natural taste and scent. I plunge my tongue into her slit, teasing her open until I reach her hot, wet center. She cries out, her thighs quaking. Without breaking the kiss, I lift her hips, holding them to my face while I pull her legs over my shoulders. I move across the room on my knees, crawling to her bed and laying her back on it, my mouth suctioned to her sweet, wet pussy. I suck her folds between my lips, caress them between my tongue and lip, then work the tip of my tongue into her opening.
“Please,” she gasps out, her hands fisting in her crochet blanket.
I spread her thighs wide and take one look at her delicate pink pussy before I feast. I drive my tongue into her opening, fucking her deep with it, listening to the sweet, unbidden moans and gasps and whimpers that fall from her lips as pure as dewdrops in the morning. I ravish her, eating and sucking, biting and fucking, moaning in pure, animal satisfaction.
I want to rise up and slam my cock home inside her, but I know she can’t take me yet. I’ve never fucked a virgin, and I never will. I don’t need to. I’m so big everyone feels tight to me. I usually don’t even want to, but Mercy is making me lose my mind.
Usually, I like to eat first, get girls warmed up, force an orgasm from them when they’re trying to wait, to save it for Saint or Heath’s dick. But they always cum on my tongue before they get to go on, to cum on their cocks. Then I can sit back and watch my brothers stretch them out and wreck their cunts. I’m the pinch hitter who comes back in at the end to take it back when the girls are all loose and spent and think they can’t go another minute. They always can, and dragging that last orgasm from their trembling bodies as they beg for relief is as sweet as making them lose control that first time.
My fantasy is to find a girl who’s never fucked anyone else, so we can do it raw—all of us and maybe the Master too. I want to watch them destroy her one after another, taking turns with her until she’s so full she can’t hold another drop, and their cum is oozing out of her stuffed, gaping cunt. Then I want to sink my cock into it. I love the thought of their cum soaking me, oozing out around my girth as I stretch a cunt to its furthest limit.
But that’s such a filthy fantasy I can’t even put Mercy into it. Maybe if we corrupt her thoroughly enough, she’ll let us run a train on her bareback, but when she moans, bringing me into the moment, the fresh taste of her virgin cunt drenching my tongue is the most erotic thing I can imagine. Her slit is slick and hot, and I drag my tongue up it sensually, then latch onto her swollen, red clit and suck. It pulses wildly, and she cries out. I suck harder, and she bucks, releasing the bed and tangling her fingers in my dark hair. She drags me in, rocking wildly, gasping and panting and lifting for me. I slide my tongue down with one slow stroke, stretch her open with both my thumbs, and sheathe my tongue deep inside her tight, throbbing cunt.
I feel her shatter, the moment of surrender. It’s my favorite moment, even better than my own climax. She stops grinding and goes still, her knees opening and closing slowly like butterfly wings on either side of my head, her pussy shimmering in waves along my tongue, her cum spreading over it in a thick, salty glaze.
I’m not entirely unselfish. I love going down. Nothing else in the world tastes quite like pussy, and no one tastes like Mercy. I don’t even have time to reach down and unzip. The moment she cries out in bliss, a throb jolts through me, and I cum before I know it’s happening. I let out a groan into her quivering cunt, and she whimpers and shudders under me, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.
Fuck. I just came in my pants like a teenage dirtbag who goes off the second a girl touches him. I wasn’t expecting that, didn’t know I was that close. I wasn’t paying attention to my own pleasure, only hers. I’ve never gotten there this fast, not even from fucking. Usually I can go all night, and I’m a little salty about the fact that I lost control and came so soon.
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering I wasn’t just eating out any girl. I can’t compare it to the usual. This is Mercy fucking Soules. I could keep sucking her sweet pussy all night. Just because it’s over for me, doesn’t mean it is for her. She’s so innocent, she doesn’t even know what that sound I made meant. I moan again, dragging my tongue through her center, collecting her release and swallowing it like the sweetest nectar. Then, over her half-hearted protests, I start again, pushing her over the edge a second time, then a third.
I can’t get enough. I want to do it all, but if I did more, she’d probably end up pregnant, and persuading anyone that she’s still a virgin might take a little more convincing in the information age than when our fierce queen Mother Mary was around. Not sure anyone today would believe she hadn’t given up that cat and just miraculously turned up bun-in-oven one day. But then, a few hundred million people still don’t see that Mary pulled one over on them, so maybe I’m giving humanity too much credit.
Giving credit where credit’s due, that chick pulled off history’s greatest con, and it’s still going. Most wives who step out on their man go with the whole “he was just over fixing the sink” excuse or get a divorce. They don’t gaslight their husband into agreeing, brainwash an entire population, convince the world they banged God, and their son is therefore also God, and create a whole-ass religion out of it. Gotta give Mama Mary the recognition she deserves.
Then again, maybe old Joe wasn’t so gullible. Maybe he hadn’t nailed her. Maybe like me, he just had strong swimmers in the family, and he finger-banged her with some cum for lube, and here we are. To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t caused an immaculate conception yet, but you can’t be too careful. My dad and my uncle both spawned five kids without even trying. Mom was even on birth control when two of us “Came knocking like Publisher’s Clearing House,” as she likes to tell people. And if Saint thought I fucked his sister without his permission, and then lied about it… Well, they’d hate me more than they hate Mercy for what she did.
I’m going to be in enough trouble as it is.
But since I’m already here, already in, I go for one more, dragging a last orgasm from Mercy before she’s sobbing and begging me to stop, saying her clit is so tender it hurts. Finally, I haul her up onto the bed, then lie down with her. I shove my pants off and toss them off the bed, then drag her leg over my hip. She’s still bloody, dirty and bruised, but her face is a flushed mess of tears for a different reason now.
I draw her chin up and kiss her quivering lip.
“You’ll get used to it,” I promise her. “Just let go and accept the pleasure next time. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Easy for you to say,” she sniffles, shivering and huddling against me.
I pull the blankets over us, tangling my legs with hers. I kiss her forehead this time, stroking her damp hair back. “You’ll be okay,” I say. “You just have a few bruises. I’ll hold you while you fall asleep.”
“How can you say that, like nothing just happened?” she asks.
“Trust me, that wasn’t nothing for me, either,” I say, though I can’t say more, can’t admit how much it meant. “But you’re safe with me. I’m not going to fuck you. You can relax.”
I hold her until she stops shivering, until her body melts against mine and she goes still, her breathing deep. I marvel that after all this time, she still trusts me enough to fall asleep on me, even after all we’ve done to her. I’ve violated her with the others, and I haven’t done anything to show her I can be trusted. She’s na?ve to even consider it, especially when I can’t help but slide under the blankets and eat her out one more time while she sleeps. I drag my hand over my cock this time, painting her thighs with my release while I suck hers from her slumbering, relaxed pussy. I spit it into her wet panties and pocket them to bring to the others.
Then I tuck her in, settle her teddy bear in her arms, and lock the door on my way out.