Sins Of Her Sister

Chapter 14

Layla

My vision is blurry; my brain feels groggy. Last thing I remember was trying to get out of Carson’s vehicle. Damn it. He’s got a lot of fucking nerve. The pain lacing my head makes me wince as I try to sit up. I reach up to touch my forehead and a knot has already formed. That's one good way to piss me off.

Carson is pacing back and forth across the room. I realize he's brought me to his parent’s basement. He laid me on a brown leather couch next to the dark-stained, wooden coffee table sitting in the middle of the room. There's a mini kitchen to the left and a fifty-two inch flat screen TV in front of me.

Carson snaps his head toward me and stomps over. Crouching down to my level, he takes a strand of my hair and twirls it through his fingers.“It's about time you woke up. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t.” He chuckles low.

“Let's be honest, Carson. If you were really worried about me, you wouldn't have knocked me out in the first place,” I say as I glare at him and knock his hand away from me. He snatches me by my chin, his thumb and forefinger pinching as hard as he can.

“Baby, baby, baby…this mouth is going to get you in loads of trouble.” Carson slides his thumb into my mouth. My reflexes take over and I bite the shit out of it. He quickly pulls his thumb away, holding it to his lips to suck th e sting away. I can tell that I pushed too far and he can't control his anger.

“You stupid slut!” Rearing back, he punches me across the face. It happened so fast, I couldn’t react on time. My vision goes blurry again and the fog starts to fill my brain. Fuck. Not again. I know I have no power over this. All I can hope for is that Carson grows a conscience before I'm gone. Before I can run, I black out once again.

K ali

That motherfucking son of a bitch. He's dead. I’m raging inside. The audacity of this shit head. I swipe our chin to find blood on our hand. This piece of shit busted our lip. I can't control the laughter that bubbles up from our chest. I'm cackling like a damn maniac. I get up off the couch to face Carson. Still laughing, I pop our neck from side to side and stare at him straight in the eyes. Without breaking eye contact, I bring our bloody finger to our mouth and suck.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Carson asks, his eyes narrowed. I walk slowly toward him.

“Oh, you haven't seen crazy, baby.” I say leaning into him and that's when he notices how much darker our eyes have gone—from Layla's pretty green to mine, black as coal. He takes a step back.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” he asks.

“Didn’t you know they’re like mood rings? They change depending on my mood.” I answer.

Carson scowls at me as he grabs me by our top. He thinks he's in complete control right now, which makes me want to squeal with delight. How much more exhilarating it’s going to feel when I get to watch him bleed dry.

“Oh, right now?” I purr, running our hand up his neck until I'm gently fisting the back of his hair. I give him an innocent smile.

“I’m fucking pissed.” I murmur. His brows furrow in confusion. I bring my knee up and bash his head against it. Carson howls in pain, blood pouring down his face. Not wanting to give him a break since we just started, I swing our foot between his legs. I giggle as I watch one hand hold his nose and the other to hold his balls.

“Poor Carson,” I pout. “I don't know why you're holding your balls like you have any, but you were bold to believe you have the balls to do what you’ve done.” I tilt my head as I watch Carson groan and stand to his full height. He’s trying to act like he isn’t bothered, I can see the shake in his hands and the sweat rolling off his forehead.

“Im going to fucking end you,” he sneers.

“I’d like to see you try.” I smirk.

Carson advances on me, but I out maneuver him, dodging toward the kitchen. I skid by the old, white refrigerator and see a fire extinguisher by it. I hear his footsteps behind me, so I pretend like I'm not paying attention. Right before he gets to our back, I swing the fire extinguisher at his head. He dodged it and I miss him by a literal hair. Shit. He bear hugs me and pushes our back against the fridge. I grunt from the impact of his weight bearing down on me. Still holding the fire extinguisher, I raise our arm to the side and hit him in the back of the head. Carson falls backwards, holding his head.

“Layla, you fucking bitch!” he shouts as I walk toward him.

“I'm really sick of not getting credit where credit is due. If you're going to call someone a bitch, at least make sure it's the right person.” I stand with my hand on our hip, the fire extinguisher still hanging by our side. Carson looks up at me, dumbfounded.

“What are yo—” he tries to say with confusion in his eyes. I hit his temple with the fire extinguisher and he immediately falls to the floor.

“Sweet dreams asshole.” I say out loud as I look over his body. Carson will probably be out for a while and I have nothing down here to tie him up with so I venture through the house. I make my way up the stairs and it opens into the kitchen. It is pristine white with sterling silver appliances. There's a white island in the middle of the kitchen with a sink in the center. Walking past the fridge to get to the living room, I notice there's a note on it. Carson, me and Dad have gone on our business trip. There's food in the fridge. A wide smile spreads across our face. Perfect. We have the house to ourselves tonight.

The stairs are through the living room. Once at the top of the staircase, the open space forks into three different hallways, two going in the opposite directions and one straight ahead. I start in both adjacent hallways, not finding a damn thing I can use. I glance at the cell phone in our pocket to realize I've already spent forty minutes snooping. I need to hurry our ass up. I want to be in the basement before Captain Dick head wakes up.

I hurry to Carson’s room which is in the middle hallway. Layla has been here a million times so I know the smell of him. The dark blue room is empty except for the computer desk sitting in the corner and a dresser sitting against the wall in the middle. He has a king sized bed with a bedside table next to it that sits pushed up against the right side of the wall. The comforter and sheets match the wall. If boring and bland had a picture in the dictionary, this room would be it.

Walking deeper into the room, I get the urge to be nosey and sit at the computer. The screen comes to life with a click of the mouse and it's not password protected. What a fucking idiot. Some people are way too cocky. Sucks for him, not so much for me.

Going through Carson's search history, I don’t find anything except for YouTube searches and his porn history. Not even his porn is spicy. Just your basic, plain Jane sex. I have no idea how Layla managed to stay with him for so long. Thank God, it'll be over soon. Huffing out a breath, I continue to look through his computer.

Clicking out onto the home screen, I find his iCloud app and the dumbass is still logged in. This just keeps getting better and better. I click on his iMessages tab where I look through hundreds of messages from random numbers and plenty of girls from our school. The last message is from Vanessa.

Vanessa: I can't keep doing this Car. It's me or her. I'm serious.

Carson: I promise, baby. Just give me a little more time. I'm going to choose you.

Vanessa: Do you swear?

Carson: I promise, baby. Come see me tonight. I need to feel that tight cunt wrapped around me!

Vanessa: I can't tonight. I already have plans. Sorry! xoxo

Ha. Yeah, busy fucking your Mr. Scott. What a sack of shit. I seriously can't wait to shove his dick down his throat—after it's been up his ass.

Having had enough of the dipshit’s text messages, I browse his downloaded photos. I wish I could say I'm shocked at what I find, but I don't think anything shocks me anymore. There's picture after picture of different girls from our school, all naked, and in different positions.

I’m still scrolling when I spot a familiar face. I click it and if I had a heart, it may have broken a little. Thankfully, that bitch turned to stone and squashes anything that comes close anymore. I wish I could say the same for Layla.

Our mother stares back at me on the screen, in all her glory, in her full birthday suit. I quickly click out of her photo and scroll down to the videos. Sure enough, there she is getting fucked seven ways ‘til Sunday. The pictures and videos are never ending. I don’t have emotions other than rage half the time, but seeing this shrimp dick motherfucker fucking our mother’s ancient pussy is making me sick. The rage I feel starts to build up and boil over. I yank the computer up, ripping the cords out. I throw it down as hard as I can. The screen shatters and glass goes everywhere. I stomp on it, feeling the crunch of the glass under my shoe.

Once there's nothing left to stomp, I rummage through the bedside table to find something I can use on Carson. My jaw drops in shock. I wouldn’t have guessed that Carson had a kink. He might be a complete slut, but he's never been anything other than vanilla with Layla. Believe me, I know. I pick up the handcuffs and stuff them in our back pocket.

I’m looking through his clothes and storage boxes in his walk-in closet. I catch a silver gleam in the corner of our eye and there sits a metal Louisville slugger. Smirking to myself, I grab the bat. I’m ready for playtime.