Page 29 of The Black Lotus (Fatal Florals Duet #2)

TWENTY-TWO

ASTER

S kidding to a stop in front of a farmhouse, I rush out of the car unsure if I should go into the house or the barn where I hear what sounds like angry pig grunts.

What the hell? Trusting my instincts, I run into the house, pausing to listen for screams. Nothing greets my ears except a quiet hum I follow that gets louder.

Each step through the house has my shoulders relaxing and my breaths coming easier.

She’s alive. My vixen is alive.

The lyrics to Fool and The Beggar by Melrose Avenue pierces through the empty home.

Stepping through the open door, I see my girl swaying back and forth as she saws Sharon’s body.

It’s gruesome, something better fit for Saw or Hostel .

Most would turn and empty their stomach, but I’m not most people.

And watching Serena, realizing she turned the tables and became the predator when she was supposed to be the prey, has my cock growing by the minute.

“You are a sight to behold,” I muse, leaning against the door frame with my hands crossed over my chest.

Serena’s head jerks and her eyes light up. ”Aster! I knew you’d find me.” She drops the saw, the sound of metal hitting the table creating a low thud. She runs into my arms with her whole body covered in blood and I catch her to savor this moment.

She pushes off me. “Oh my god; I’m so sorry! Now you’re a mess too.”

Despite her efforts, I pull her back into me. “A little blood would never keep me from you. I would take this over never holding you again.”

She wraps her arms around me looking up with a red stained face. “Did you think you would never see me again?”

I squeeze her harder, scared that if I let go she might disappear again. “I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I had to get to you. That if you didn’t kill her before I found you, I would.”

“Thanks to Lena,” she says, holding up her arm, the little box cutter still hanging from her wrist. “I had a means to escape, and with all our training, waited for the perfect moment to strike.”

“Thank you, Lena,” I breathe, dropping my forehead against hers.

“I only had this and the chair I was tied to.” She walks out of my arms, heading back to Sharon. “I took this drug,” she holds up the needle proudly, “stabbed it right into her neck, and she fell into my arms. I lowered her to the floor and went and grabbed this table.”

Walking back to the table with her, I listen to her excitedly tell me step-by-step how she took down Sharon.

Her eyes light up when she mentions finding the pig farm, thinking out loud about if this is where Jessica ended up and how perfect it is that the place that has ended so many lives is the one that destroys hers.

She picks up the saw and resumes cutting. “You know, cutting up a body is hard work, but what was even harder was lugging her unconscious ass onto this table. At that moment, I really wished you we-”

Placing my hands over hers, I rest my head on her shoulder and press down, helping her slice back and forth. We look like some bloody version of that couple in Ghost during the pottery scene. Instead of clay it’s a dead body. I chuckle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Serena asks, turning her head to look at me with one eyebrow raised.

“I was just thinking how we look like some fucked up version of Ghost.”

She looks down at our hands, then at Sharon, and busts out laughing, her joy infectious and I’m powerless, joining in instantly.

After the last piece of her is cut, and what I assume is the right size for the pigs to eat quickly, we place the saw down.

I tuck a strand of hair behind Serena’s ear and glance down at her lips, the erection in my pants tightening against the fabric, begging to be set free.

Would she be opposed to fucking next to a dead body?

As if our minds are one, her hands grab the back of my head and my lips crash against hers, our hands frantically tugging off each other’s clothes.

Her hands fiddle with the belt buckle of my pants, but her fingers are too slick with blood.

With one hand, I undo it, taking it off with a growl.

She gawks at me, her eyes full of lust as she jumps into my arms without a second thought.

“Before I remembered the box cutter, I was hoping you’d save me,” she pants.

Kissing her hard, I calm the panic threatening to overtake me.

“I will always come for you.” Kissing her neck, the dry blood cracking when she stretches it for me, I savor the feel of her under my hands.

“But I knew you never needed saving. You’re my vixen; when danger comes at you-” I stop, looking her right in her eyes and repeat the words she once said to me, “-You look them in their eyes, say ‘time to die’ and slit their throat or something.”

She smacks my chest, her infectious laugh surrounding us as she gets down on her knees, her plump lips hovering inches from my cock, teasing it with her breath.

“And to think I was going to suck your dick as a thank you for coming for me.” She releases it as she tries to stand, but I twist my hand in her hair, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

“How about I paint your body in my cum instead?”

Her eyes widen as her lips slowly wrap around my cock, my head falling back as she bobs around my length. “Fuck, Serena, I will never grow tired of your mouth.” Her tongue flicks the tip, forcing my head down to watch as her spit combines with my precum. “Or your tongue.”

Faster she goes, bringing me to the peak of my orgasm, my moans echoing around us. I push further down her throat, tears springing to her eyes as she gags around me. Her hands grip my ass, pushing me further into her, and I explode, my hot cum, shooting down her throat as I roar my release.

She looks up at me with a playful smile, and I wipe my cum from the corner of her lips, sticking my finger into her mouth. She wraps her tongue around it, her lashes fluttering closed as her moan vibrates around me. My dick rising from the action, more than ready to feel her sweet heat.

Ready to go again, I pull her up and roughly turn her around, slamming her front on the table, her face inches from the dead body parts.

“Who would have thought a dead body and a blow job would turn you feral,” she teases.

I slam into her mercilessly, making her scream in ecstasy. “I am always feral for you.” The sound of our skin slapping together and mixing with our moans is a sound I want to capture forever. The way our bloodied bodies make love next to a dead one is something I wish to capture on a canvas.

Her hand reaches for something to grab, something for her fingers to curl around, and I smirk. You can’t hide from this pain, vixen. I grip her head and drag her up, her back meeting my chest, my length fucking her deeper and harder.

“Aster!” she screams, her back arching as her hands wrap around my neck.

“Scream my name, let everyone hear who you belong to.”

“No one is here. Just the dead,” she grunts.

“Then scream loud enough the Grim Reaper will want to stop and listen before taking her soul to the pits of hell.”

At my command she does just that, shrieking loud enough my ears will be ringing for days, her explosion matching my own. The walls shake, my head spins, and it’s all I can do to ride through our passion as I close my eyes.

Her legs buckle and I catch her in my arms, lowering us to the ground and wrapping my arms around her, setting her in my lap while we catch our breaths.

“How did you find me?” she asks.

I scratch the back of my head, nervous to tell her I called her father for help. Will she be upset I pulled him into our mess? Grateful? Will she be pissed? “Actually… I called your dad.”

She sits up straight, turning to face me.

“You called my dad ? As in Sharon’s fiancée?

” She scrambles out of my arms, looking around at the chaos around her.

“Is he on his way here?” I nod, my lips thinning.

“Oh my god! He can’t see what I did. He’s going to kill me for killing her!

” She motions to the pile of flesh on the table.

She paces the room, biting her nails. I need to calm her mind, she needs to understand that the only way I could have found her was through her dad.

Standing, I grip her shoulders, stopping her panic and forcing her to look me in the eye.

“He told me to kill her if you haven’t already. He told me to promise to save you.”

Her eyebrows dip in confusion. “He told you to kill Sharon?”

“He did.”

She lets out a breath of relief, her knees nearly buckling again. “We should still clean up and get those pigs fed before he gets here.” She walks over to the table, throwing a leg over her shoulder. “I doubt he’d want to see what I did to her.”

Agreeing, I walk over and grab her torso and arms, tucking them under mine as, piece by piece, we get rid of any evidence.

When her head is the final piece left, we both stand there, naked, thinking the same thing.

Can a pig digest human hair and teeth? She asks and I shrug, knowing that wasn’t the disposal method my parents or I preferred.

“I display or burn bodies, never thought to feed one to pigs. I will say, it is clever though.”

“Should we chance it?” she asks, answering her own question. “Otherwise, I think I saw an incinerator in the barn.”

“Let’s burn it, just in case.”

We burn the last of Sharon, watching the flames melt her and our bloodied clothing. It isn’t until we hear Serena’s father calling her name out that we are shaken from the trance we’re in.

I pull her behind me, hiding her from her father's view as he walks in and abruptly turns around, clearing his throat. “I have towels and clothes for you both in the car.” He closes his eyes as we walk past, ready to clean our bodies off with the hose and get dressed.