Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“What do you think?”
I can hear us, hear the wet sounds of fucking, my resolve fading.
I’m going to come soon.
Anger transforms into sadness that settles inside my belly.
“I think there’s something wrong with us Willow Girls,” I say quietly.
He shifts his grip to cup my ass and, with his cock still deep inside me, he carries me to the bed and lays me down. He stands at the edge of it and pushes my knees up to fuck me deep, bringing his face close to mine.
“What’s wrong with you Willow Girls?” he asks.
I’m clinging to him, my hands on his shoulders and neck. I dig my nails into his skin, into his scar. He winces. I know it hurts him, but I also know he gets off on it.
“That we want it. Like this. That I want you. Still. After everything, I want you.”
He kisses my mouth and I open to him and I feel my fingernails break skin, feel the warmth of blood on my fingertips.
“Fuck, Helena.”
“I think we all have this sickness. The Willow Girl sickness.”
He draws back a little and I wrap my hand around the back of his head and pull him closer, kiss him hard, use my teeth. His cock grows thicker inside me.
He shoves my legs wider and I fist his short hair, tug to hurt because I’m coming. I’m coming again, and he feels me and he’s watching me.
We’re both sick, I guess. Our families are sick.
He fists a handful of my hair and forces me to look at him and I hear myself moan, and his cock feels so good.
I ride the orgasm to its last, and he’s still fucking me, still watching me.
“No matter what,” I say, taking his final thrusts as he begins to throb inside me, filling me up, bruising me inside and out. “No matter what, we want the Scafoni bastards.”
15
Helena
After breakfast the next morning, I get the chance to slip away. Sebastian is in his study with the door closed and Gregory’s off the island. I take Lucinda’s letter opener with me as I head to the mausoleum. I tell myself it’s just in case I need to pick a lock.
I take the same path as last time except that today, I’m wearing jeans, a sweater and sneakers so even though it’s warm, my arms and legs are protected.
The same feeling passes over me as I near the dark, gray building, and I only allow myself to slow my steps when I meet the angel’s watchful eye.
I give her the finger and stand up straighter as I push the gate open and enter.
The sudden cold makes me shudder. I hate it here.
The red lantern burns and the way the sunlight inches in, the space is almost creepier today.
But I don’t have to be here long.
I just need to find that door and go downstairs—which is sure to be even more creepy—and find out what they did to Aunt Helena. Find out what she thought would free her even though she was terrified of whatever it was.
At first sight, I don’t see it. It takes me two full turns around the place to realize there’s a small opening between two of the walls. It’s narrow and covered over with cobwebs.
I pull my sweater down into my hand and sweep them away and nearly jump when I feel what I am sure is a spider scurry across the back of my hand. I peek into the dark space, but this can’t be anything. It’s too narrow. I could barely fit through myself. No way a man could slip through here. Neither Sebastian nor Gregory could.
I shake my head, wipe off the cobwebs step outside into the sunlight to rethink this. I take a deep breath in through my nose, realizing I only breathe in gasps when I’m in there. It’s like you can taste the dead.
The angel is still watching, but I swear she’s mocking me now.
That’s when I notice the path around the mausoleum. It’s overgrown with weeds which explains why I haven’t seen it before.
I begin the walk around the building, studying the walls. I don’t know why I’m expecting some hidden entrance or secret door or something because almost at the very back of the building is another entrance, gates like the ones at the front. It’s not hidden at all. There’s a heavy, rusted chain weaving through the bars, but the lock is hanging open.
Rust flakes when I touch it, pull the chain through the bars, trying to make as little noise as possible, but making too much. I’m far enough from the house that they shouldn’t hear, though, and it doesn’t take too long because it looks like someone’s been here recently.
Once I have it loose, I push the gate open. It creaks even louder than those at the main entrance and stone stairs lead straight down into blackness.