The devil

“Interesting analogy—”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, cocksucker.” He starts pacing. “This is my goddamn life.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m not sure there is anything else to say. “This sucks.”

Nodding, he turns to face the window again. “I might as well blow my brains out and end it now.”

My reaction is automatic. I grip his shoulder, much harder than before. “Don’t say shit—”

“Fuck.” He clutches the windowsill, his body wracking with tremors. “Don’t touch me.”

Harvard is the least of my worries. Ignoring his request, I reach for the hem of his sweatshirt.

It gets stuck halfway up his back and I realize it’s because of all the caked-up blood sticking to the material.

If I thought my reaction was visceral before it has nothing on the storm that starts brewing inside me when I see the belt marks.

Judging from the abrasions, the motherfucker didn’t use the loop. Just the buckle.

Ru

“First beating I ever felt like I deserved,” Cain says, his voice cracking. “What am I go

Before I can answer, he grips my shirt, his tears soaking the fabric. And that’s how we stay for the better part of five minutes. Until he places my hand on his semi-hard dick. “I need you—”

The words are out of my mouth before he can finish his sentence. “Get on the bed. Face down.”

I suck at comforting people…but this? Taking control over someone who feels out of it and blurring the lines between pain and pleasure? That is something I can do.

“He was so pissed,” Cain says as I position myself behind him and proceed to take off his pants and boxers. “The angriest I’ve ever seen him in my life.” He closes his eyes. “And then my brother…he just laughed and called me a loser.” He scrunches his face. “He’s not wrong. What kind of man lets their father beat them while their brother stands there and laughs?”

I press my lips to a wound on his tailbone. “A man who thinks he deserves it because he’s been conditioned to think he does and doesn’t know any better yet.”

He shifts his cheek on the pillow a little to look at me. “Are you in love with me?”

That’s a weird fucking question. “I’m not sure.” Grabbing the washcloth I placed on the nightstand, I dab it over a wound that’s still bleeding. “To be honest, I’m not sure I know how to love. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

He nods. “That makes both of us.” He sighs. “Promise you’ll fuck Mrs. Miller for me one last time before I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere, asshole.”

“There’s no point living if I can’t do it the way I was supposed to.”

It’s not so much his words, it’s the intent in his expression. Like he truly believes there’s no way out other than death.

Throwing the washcloth down, I brace my arms on either side of him and lean down so I’m next to his face. “You think there’s only one roadmap to your life? One way to get where you want to go?”

“For me there was.”

“Then you’re not half as smart as I thought you were, Mr. President.”

His features harden. “Gee thanks. You and Harvard have that in common I guess.”

I grit my teeth. “What I mean is, there are a hundred different paths to get to Harvard. Same goes for becoming a politician if that’s really what you want. Pick one and start walking.”

“It’s not that easy. My dad had everything pla

“Fuck him,” I shout. “Fuck your brother and Harvard too, for that matter.” I grab his jaw. “There are two types of people in this world, Cain. Those who are capable of greatness, but don’t bother trying. And those who still try even though they’re not capable of greatness.”

“But I did tr—”

“You’re neither,” I interject. “You’re the type of person who can do anything he sets his mind to and succeed.”

“You really think so?”

“You know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” I lean my forehead against his. “Everything you want is already yours. All you have to do is reach out and take it.”

He draws in a breath. “I wish I could believe that, but I don’t see how. My life is over.”

“Your life isn’t over.” I run a finger down his thigh. “It’s just begi

He snorts. “You get that from a Hallmark card?”

“No, jackass. It’s how fate works. One event leads to another…and those events lead to the next event and so on and so forth. Then one day, you look back and co

“I think Mrs. Miller’s fortune teller crap is starting to rub off on you.”

I bite his ass. “Yeah. Or maybe, just maybe…I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for.”

His features twist. “Harvard was everything, Damien. My father’s co

I trail my lips down his ass. “Says who? Because the Cain Carter I know isn’t a fucking pussy. He takes what he wants. Show your dad you can do this without him. Because you can.”

His hips jerk. “I’ve never met anyone who believes…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You…”

He moans when I slip my tongue between his cheeks. “Did you mean what you said before?”

I pause. “Yeah, you can do anything you—”

“No.” His voice drops down a few octaves. “Did you really want to kill him for me?”

“Not did. Do.”

“I’d never let you do that—”

I spread his cheeks and circle his asshole with my tongue.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He stretches, stuffing his hands under the pillow. “But if you were going to…how would you?”

“How would I kill your father?”

He nods, arching his ass into my face.

I think about this a moment before I give him my answer. “Easy.” I flick his puckered hole. “I’d make it look like an accident. Something that could never be traced back to me.”

He shudders when I repeat the movement. “Jesus.” Raising his ass higher, he looks up at me over his shoulder. “Like what?”

Smirking, I tease him again, this time, dipping my tongue inside. “I’d give him some sleeping pills.”

His eyes go hazy. “What makes you think he’d take them?”

“Everyone eats, right? I’d find a way to put it in his food.”

Groaning, I suck on the seam of his balls until he trembles.

“Then what would you do?”

Licking my finger, I push the tip of it into his hole.  “I’d wait for him to fall asleep.”

He bucks into my finger and my heart accelerates. “Yeah?” His voice is a deep rasp. “Then what?”

I adjust my position on the bed, lining his ass up with my dick while I continue prepping him.  “Well, before the pills, I would have re-wired an everyday household item...something simple…maybe a coffee maker or toaster. This way, they’d blame it on faulty wiring.”

“Blame what on faulty wiring?”

Slipping my finger out, I grab some lube on the nightstand and give my cock a languid stroke. “The fire that would kill him.”

Cain’s breathing hitches as I proceed to work my dick between his cheeks. “Why a fire?”

I groan when a pearlescent drop lands directly on his puckered hole.  “Because they don’t leave much evidence behind…especially if you do it in the middle of the night. People are sleeping, so the neighbors are less likely to call the fire department, therefore there would be more damage. More damage usually equals less evidence.” I swirl my tip around the liquid, slowly working my cockhead in. “And since he’d be full of sleeping pills…he’d never make it out alive. Not unless someone tried to rescue him.”