Bitter Sweet Hell (Hell Night 2)

Sweat slides down his temples, and why does that look so damn hot? Why does it make me want to lick away the salty moisture?

He speeds up, his grunts and my moans fill the space around us. My eyes fall closed as an intense wave of pleasure starts in my lower stomach. His fingers dig into the fleshy part of my asscheek, lifting me even higher. When his cock hits something inside me with the new angle, my eyes spring open. A throaty cry flies from my mouth.

“There,” I moan. “Oh, God, right there.”

Cocking his knee under my ass, he adjusts my angle, and my eyes about roll into the back of my head from the added pleasure that simple move gives me. My legs tense around his hips and my breath gets stuck in my throat, but a moment later, I’m letting out a loud cry as my release slams through me. My nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, I’m sure painfully so, but it seems to spur him on because he starts hammering his hips forward.

With a grunt, he drops his head into the crook of my neck, and with a final forceful thrust, he stills.

I love the feel of his fevered breath fanning across my sweaty flesh and the erratic beat of his heart against my chest.

After several moments, he moves his hips again. Just lazy slow strokes, but it feels good. His scruff scrapes my skin as he lays tender kisses over my collar bone.

“You undo me,” he murmurs quietly. My heart flutters at his admission.

I gently run my fingers through his hair and whisper my own confession. “No more than you do me.”

WE’RE IN BED AFTER TWO rounds of bed sex and one round of shower sex. I’m on my stomach, half on his chest and half on the bed. Our legs are tangled together, and I keep rubbing the arch of my foot over the hair on his shin. What can I say? It’s oddly soothing. He’s playing with my braid, and ever so often goosebumps appear on my arms because the end tickles my back. The only light filters in from the hallway. We’ve both been quiet for the last several minutes. I hate to break the silence, but there’s something I want to ask him. Something I forgot about until his and Judge’s argument earlier.

“Will you….” I hesitate, unsure how to ask, but decide to just come right out with it. “Will you tell me about Sweet Haven?”

The muscles in his stomach tense and his hand stops playing with my hair. I hold my breath and wait.

“How do you know about Sweet Haven?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of…. Anger, maybe?

I opt to keep my head on his chest instead of sitting up and looking at him like I desperately want to do. I get the feeling I wouldn’t like his expression if I saw it.

“When I was little, I think I was about eight, I remember hearing the name. It was all over the news for weeks. My parents would always change the channel when it was on the TV and anytime I asked about it, she said it wasn’t for my young ears. It kinda stuck with me though, because I know there were some kids hurt, and I felt bad for them. Then years later, when I was an adult, I walked into a coffee shop and caught the end of a news broadcast. They were talking about how the town Sweet Haven had a new name. Malus. What you said about coming back here and rebuilding the town made me think of it again.”

I stop talking and hold my breath again. He’s quiet for so long that I wonder if he’ll say anything at all. I was so young when the news broke out about Sweet Haven that I didn’t know what they meant when they mentioned a sex ring. My parents shielded me as much as they could, but I heard whispers from the teachers at school. All I knew about it, was that it was bad. Thinking back now, those teachers were neglectful and should have made sure kids weren’t around to overhear them.

When he does begin to speak, JW’s voice is flat and devoid of emotion.

“My brothers and I; Judge, Trouble, Emo, and myself, along with many other kids, grew up in Sweet Haven. You were right. The name didn’t change until we came back and petitioned the change. The place was a ghost town until we arrived almost eleven years ago, only a few people remaining from when we were kids. A few innocent adults and a handful of kids.”

He picks my hair back up and starts twisting it around his fist loosely. I feel the hard thump of his heart under my hand. I hold still, afraid if I move, he’ll stop talking.

“When we were little, most days our childhood was normal. Anyone from the outside looking in, they’d see a small town filled with loving families and friendly neighbors.” He laughs harshly. “I say that, but we never got outsiders. I fuckin’ wish we did.” He stops again, and I feel my hair being lifted, then his deep inhale, like he’s smelling my hair. “Hell Night is what me and my brothers called the one night a month when the adults changed from loving parents to lecherous monsters. All of the adults called it The Gathering. To us it was a night we were put through hell, while to them, it was a night to show the kids the ‘true meaning of love’. Utter fucking bullshit. It gave them the opportunity to rape and molest kids while they justified it as love. The adults didn’t just abuse their own children, but others as well. They all shared. Or most of them anyway.”

I can’t help it. The gasped words leave my lips before I can stop them. “Oh, my God. Those bastards.”

“Bastards?” he asks “No, they weren’t bastards. They were sick psychos who had a twisted way of spreading love when they didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

I’m appalled. Like completely, overwhelmingly, horrifyingly appalled. What kind of parents would do that to a child? What kind of parent would allow someone else to touch their child in such a disgusting way? What kind of person likes to touch children in that way? They should all be stripped and treated the same way. I’ve always had the mindset that if you lay your hands on someone in a way they don’t want, your punishment should be the same in kind. Inmate rape in prisons against child molesters and rapists…. Yeah, I’ve never felt sorry for them.

“I am so sorry you went through that,” I offer. It’s a lame condolence, one I’m sure he’s heard many times over the years, but it’s the only thing I can offer. I’m still kind of speechless. While I knew what happened all those years ago was horrible, I had no clue just how much.

He moves, rolling to his side, and turning me until I’m facing him. Our legs are still tangled together, but our chests are no longer touching. He gazes at me, and I see the deep pain he’s trying to hide but still very much feels.

“Despite what my brothers and I went through, I think we turned out okay. Most of that is due to Mae and Dale.”

“The older woman from the diner?”

“Yes. Dale died three years ago. It was with Mae and Dale’s help that we were able to get away the night of the raid. Otherwise, we would have been put in the system and separated. They knew how devastating that would have been for us. My brothers and I aren’t blood related, but we couldn’t be more close if we were.

“What happened to all of the adults?”

His jaw hardens when he answers. “Most were arrested, some died that night, and some got away.”