Razors & Ruin (Rare Horrors #1)

Chapter 22

22

Sweeney

T he courtyard is calm and still, and no one pays us any mind as we pass. I lead Beatrix to a small path beneath a covered trellis festooned with ivy and find a handy bench.

It’s almost as though the place is laid out to encourage casual indiscretions; there isn’t even a view to pretend to enjoy.

“Mr. Todd, you are incorrigible.” Beatrix presses the back of her hand to her forehead as she slides onto the seat. “I saw how you looked at me and felt so hot inside. It’s positively sordid.”

It’s hilarious how needy this woman is. All I want is information, but her lips are pillow-soft and strangely wet like she has an excess of drool.

I can use that.

“Lady Wetherby, you honor me,” I say. “I am enchanted, I tell you. Enthralled. What beauty, such poise. How can God bear it?”

Fuck me, that’s horrendous . Thank Christ for Nellie and her lack of need for such frippery.

“Call me Bee, please.” She leans forward, letting her tits drop into her neckline, filling it out. “I’ll take my pleasure from you right here, barber. Did you ever think you’d get to fuck a woman like me?”

Oh, I see. We fancy the arse off ourselves. Well, one cunt is much like another.

That is not true, in point of fact. My treacle is in a class of her own, and I’d take her special brand of filth over this perfumed slut any day of the week.

I watch detachedly as Bee sits back, lifting her knees. She slides her underwear down and balls them up before shoving them inside her stocking, an action that seems too well-practiced for my liking.

Her pussy is somehow too red and open, like a carnivorous plant, and my interest is rapidly waning, but I need to keep her on my side. I already heard a few rumors this evening, and if what they say about her pervert husband is true, she will know.

It’s thoughts of Nellie that get a rise from me. Fucking her is sublime, an experience I could never get elsewhere because no one else would ever be willing to let me do the things I do.

And she is beautiful, of course, in an unsurpassed manner; her scarred skin, those eyes like diamond dust mixed with ash. That’s precisely what she is—muck and majesty.

Her obsessive love for me is priceless, way beyond the means of this human bauble before me, who is now idly fondling her clit, her eyes rolling as she does so.

I free my cock quickly and give it a quick pump, squeezing the base to make the most of it. Bee licks her lips and opens her mouth, letting me feed my length into her over-eager throat.

Objectively, it feels good. How could it not?

Fat lips, swollen with spit and booze, sliding over my shaft as I fuck it between them. She’s frigging herself silly, moaning theatrically, and I desperately want to choke the shit out of her.

I just want Nellie . I couldn’t have brought her here—she’d have stuck out like a sore thumb, too vital and untamed for these insipid people.

But I’m disturbed by the strong thrum of need for her, strong enough that my cock is now wilting even as Bee works it harder with her tongue. She looks a little like Nellie, but not enough, even if I squint.

I’m mulling this over when she pulls her mouth away from me and slumps, her head lolling.

Shit. Something is wrong here. I don’t know if she’s drunk, but she’s definitely unwell, and I drop to her side, supporting her so she doesn’t tumble onto the stone floor.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” I ask.

“I will take a walk,” she replies, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I shan’t be long. Just to get some air.”

I offer her my arm, but she declines with a shake of the head. “No, I’ll go alone. You stay here and keep that warm for me while I shake off this little turn. Too much fizz, you know.”

I watch her as she turns along the path toward the ornamental garden, losing sight of her as she crosses behind the fountain. Should I follow her?

No . I’ll give her a minute to steady herself. She’s still caught up in her need for a fuck, and I have no choice but to give it to her; then, loosened in every way, she’ll be putty in my hands.

I need my Nellie more than ever. Without her in my head, I cannot fake an interest in Beatrix Wetherby.

If Nellie knew that, would she forgive me? Somehow, I doubt it.