Page 13 of Desecrated Saints

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Page 13 of Desecrated Saints

Coaxing my release to the very edge, she slams herself down on me and I’m shoved into the awaiting abyss. I can feel her walls clenching around me as our orgasms collide. Biting down on her lip to silence her mewling, I let her milk every last drop from me.

In the sweaty aftermath, she slumps against my chest. We both fight to catch our breath before bursting into near-hysterical laughter. We’re literally in a public car park, getting off like horny teenagers.

“Did we just fuck in your mum’s car?”

“She technically did buy it. So, I suppose we did.”

“Well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Stroking loose blonde hair from her face, I trace the seam of her mouth. “I’d forgotten how incredible you look while falling apart. I want to fuck you again later, where everyone else can hear how much you love my cock.”

Her eyes widen. “Jesus, Kade. You’re a filthy son of a bitch.”

“Hey, I’ve been celibate for four months. Prepare for more of this.”

Lifting Brooklyn back into the passenger seat, I give her some privacy to clean up. By the time we climb out of the Jeep and begin walking into town, she seems content for the first time since we escaped. We walk with our arms wrapped around each other, studying the perfect, early morning scenery.

“What do we need to get?”

I glance at the scribbled list. “Clothes, fresh food, and long-life cupboard shit that will last. Medicines, first aid kit. Toiletries. Booze. Cigarettes.”

“Booze and cigarettes?” She laughs.

“We can’t get any medication without being discovered. At least three quarters of our group takes it for various reasons. Booze is my short-term solution.”

“So Phoenix can drink himself out of a manic episode?”

“If necessary.”

“We’re totally fucked, aren’t we?”

I peck her cheek. “Totally fucked, but free.”

We lapse into silence as the town centre approaches. The closer we get to civilisation, the more Brooklyn’s good mood evaporates. Her eyes bounce about anxiously, and I can feel the fine tremor creeping over her. It’s worsening by the second.

“You good?” I ask worriedly.

“Fine.”

Surrounded by the high street, countless shops are starting to open. More cars park as people begin their weekend chores. The cacophony of noise blurs together, a slice of normality amidst the carnage we’ve been conditioned to. It’s unnerving.

When a young man throws open the window to his cafe, the loud blaring of his radio is the final straw. Brooklyn’s hand is ripped from mine as she abruptly stops. Crouching down in the middle of the pavement, her hands slam over her ears.

She tries to make herself as small as possible, curling up in a tight ball. It nearly breaks my heart in two. I wave off the concerned cafe owner and kneel beside her.

“Love? You’re safe. I’m here with you.”

“I c-can’t do this, Kade.”

“Talk me through it. Tell me what’s happening.”

“It’s too much! I can’t fucking breathe.”

She battles against the panic attack, following my quiet instructions. We sit here for ages while the world wakes up around us. Several bystanders offer to help, but I quickly make excuses and tow her away before we arouse more suspicion.

We flee into the cafe, sliding into an empty booth. The owner immediately turns off the radio when I throw him a thunderous look, retreating back to the kitchen. With the safety of cracked plastic seats surrounding us, Brooklyn finally opens her eyes.

My heart stops dead in my chest. She isn’t looking back at me with those devastating grey eyes. My girl is gone. Her face is slack and emotionless. Before I can react, she pounces on me. Her hands clench around my throat with surprising strength.




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