1. A Scarred Wonderland


    Date: 8/22/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    thing inside you.” I shrug, at a loss at how to continue. Abby just takes another tip from the bottle. Then another. Silence. The sun rises higher in the sky as minutes tick by. It’s awhile before she says anything and I can sense her tiptoeing around the phrasing. “I felt that once,” she says. “Really?” Her pink mouth curves down. Blue eyes cloud, as if remembering something she wishes she hadn’t. She tucks a loose strand of black hair behind an ear. “Well, maybe not like that. My mother did though. I think. Got herself into mess of trouble for it too.” She takes another drink and holds the bottle out to me again. I take it this time, gagging down a small mouthful of the bitter liquid. Abby takes the bottle back with a smile. “Not for delicate little birds like you,” she laughs, breaking the dark mood for a moment. We sit in silence for a while, watching as the sailboats finally creep over the horizon. I look over at her; trails of sweat slope down a dusty cheek. The bottle of Jack is half gone and she’s flushed a rosy pink. “What do I do?” I ask. Deep down, I know that those four words are a labyrinth of meaning far deeper in complexity than the singular answer I’m likely to get. She takes off the Stetson and runs a hand through shiny curls. “After my mother… granddaddy took me in and gave me the kind of advice a girl never really forgets, especially at thirteen. He told me that sometimes the only way to face the devil inside you is to jump right down into hell and see if ...
    you take a shine to Satan hisself.” “And what happens when you like what you see?” The question stumps her. She’s tiptoed right into a minefield. She looks at me sidelong. “I s’pose you try not to let him steal your soul when you’re not lookin’.” What if it’s already gone? “Taryn?” she asks. “What is …” I don’t finish. Those very pink lips of hers press tightly against mine. I can taste the whiskey on her breath. This time it’s delicious. I groan when her hand runs up my inner thigh. I push her away when her fingers try teasing inside my paint stained Capri’s. She’s beet red and chewing her bottom lip. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Always wanted to. Don’t know why.” Yes, she does. And it pains her. “I have something for you,” she whispers. “Wait right here.” She slinks out of the pickup like a cat, snakeskin boots crunching over the gravel as she heads over to a house that looks like a modernized barn. I let my eyes follow the sway of her heartbreaker ass until she disappears inside. I want to speed off. But I don’t. I stay. Guilt can really weigh like an anchor sometimes. When she returns, she drops a wooden basket of strawberries in my lap. They look like glittering rubies. “Best yet,” she grins. “Finally figured out granddaddy’s secret. I’m sure you’ll put them to good use.” She leans inside the cabin and whispers in my ear. “Do what you need to, honey.” Then she pulls away and slaps the door. I lean on the horn. She grins wide. O/o\O That moment when the clutch drops, and the old ...
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