The Murdered World 24

Christina knew what was happening here.

She was trying to make the best of a bad situation. She was working to improve their circumstances. Building a rapport with Frank Castle wasn’t how she wanted to spend her evening, but he could care for them, provide for them. At the very least, he could cook for them.

But Emma couldn’t take that. Oh no. All she saw was a man up for grabs and her tiny little brain went mine mine mine. How pathetic could you get?

Well, not this time.

Christina sat there. Frank had a clear view of her, but it didn’t look like he was paying any attention to her. Christina had to admit, she found that as aggravating as Emma must’ve. There’d been a kind of balm that poured over her when she had Frank’s interest.

The way he focused on her, dissecting every gesture, scrutinizing every word… It was practically a show of force when he did it to some enemy he planned to destroy. She could imagine him putting the same concentration into Angel’s bungalow. But to a woman, it was… intoxicating.

She wanted it back. Emma had cheated, the little crybaby, with her crocodile tears and her Oscar clip scream. For God’s sake, she could’ve at least waited until Christina was done to take her turn with the man.

Christina was halfway repulsed by him—the Punisher. It wasn’t like she would want to spend every second in his presence. But no. Emma just had to have her way, when she wanted it, how she wanted it.

Well, if she wanted to play dirty, Christina could play dirty.

Christina sat a little lower in her seat, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. She pulled it slowly over her knees.

Frank was spewing inarticulate sounds of comfort. But, seeing Christina, he shut up. His eyes burned into her as if angered by the interruption. But he didn’t look away, now did he?

Emma actually mewled… mewled, the big baby… and Frank went back to petting her hair and cooing to her, comforting a woman as came naturally to a man like him. But something else came naturally to a man…

Christina opened her legs. It was fun to tease him. Not only did she like turning Frank on, but she loved the fact that she was doing it right under Emma’s nose. It felt so wicked and yet so just to be getting away with this, beating Emma at her own game. She lifted her skirt higher. When Frank looked her in the eye with an incredulous expression, as though to ask if she were serious, she winked at him.

Frank started to sweat. He managed to keep some of his attention on Emma, but his focus was split. Christina could sense it. He didn’t want to concentrate on Emma. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to do far more than look at her.

And Christina rewarded his dedication by raising her skirt higher and higher. A private peepshow just for him. And something that turned her on far more than any aphrodisiac.

Frank tried to keep his attention on Emma. She needed him. It was obvious she needed him. But as much as he wanted to comfort her, he wanted to give Christina what she needed even more.

He wound up paying only a token amount of attention to Emma, letting her take comfort from his nearness instead of anything he was doing. And every chance he got, he looked at Christina, never quite able to believe how she was displaying herself so brazenly to him.

And what she was wearing—or not wearing. Black silk stockings held her creamy thighs in a tight grip at the garters, taut suspenders disappearing under her steadily rising skirt. Not for much longer, it looked like.

It was like she’d planned this. Or at least wanted it. Had she intended to seduce him from the moment she’d changed clothes? Or was Christina simply aroused by the idea of being able to, and now out of some… sibling rivalry… she was going through with what might once have only been a fantasy?

Christina finally showed him her pubic hair, a thick mane of blood-red hair bracketed by either straps of her garters. She kept lifting her skirt to show him where the garter belt slunk around her soft belly. She didn’t have the toned abs that seemed obligatory for any woman that aspired to her level of beauty, but Frank wouldn’t trade those voluptuous curves for any amount of athleticism.

She wasn’t wearing any panties. She was showing him her cunt. Frank’s prick lurched in his pants and he knew he was on the verge of sporting a massive hard-on; one it’d be impossible for Emma not to notice.

Now he knew what Christina wanted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he told Emma, unable to keep his eyes from between Christina’s legs, which drew further and further apart like a bear-trap being set up. “You’ll feel better after you’ve rested.”

Emma nodded mutely and let herself be drawn to her feet. Frank marched her to the bunkroom he’d passed on the way in, deciding it would be the girls’ room and he would use the other as his personal bedchamber.

If Emma or Christina didn’t like it, they were welcome to sleep with him instead of each other. He doubted he would get any takers, despite Christina’s goading display. He thought that was more about proving a point to Emma, even if only in her head, than about him.

And it bothered Frank that, like with Angel, Christina’s thoughts immediately ran to using him as a game-piece in her contest with a perceived enemy.

Careful to stay behind Emma where she couldn’t see the state of his arousal, he led the girl into the huge bedroom, picking out a bunk at random to stow her in, then tucking her in parentally. She let him draw the covers up to her chin.

“Stay with me?” she asked, taking his hand.

“Until you’re asleep.”

“Where do you have to go?” Emma retorted with some of her old wit, albeit cracked. She seemed as likely to cry as to laugh.

“My own room,” he told her. “The second bunkroom. I’ll sleep there, you and Christina can sleep in here.”

“Don’t wanna sleep with her,” Emma pouted.

“Then sleep on one of the couches, or in the bathtub. This place probably has a tub.”

“And if I wanna sleep with you?” Emma asked before yawning.

“Buy me dinner,” Frank said, yawning contagiously himself. “Jesus, kid, as long as we’re down here, maybe we should try to keep regular hours. In bed by midnight. Up before noon. That kind of thing.”

“Does it matter?” Emma asked woozily.

“I think right now everything matters.”

She didn’t have the energy to speak after that. Only stared at him with big blue eyes until they shut and she collapsed even deeper into her pillow than she had been. Frank slipped his hand out of hers and picked his way through the dark to the door.

When he stepped outside, Christina was there. He couldn’t see her pussy anymore, but he knew it was still there, right under her chic skirt.

“If you’re going in there,” he said. “Try not to wake her. She’s sleeping.”

“And what are we doing?” Christina asked.

Frank walked away. He didn’t like feeling like a game-piece. And he didn’t think he could go without doing something about it if he saw her cunt again.