I asked once I was sure I could talk without squeaking. “I’m beginning to think you hate me.” “Hate?” Scarlett shook her head. “Hate is such a strong word, Frank. I could never hate you; we’re family, after all, right?” I chuckled imagining all the things she could think of me, knowing not very many of them would be nice. On the other hand, there were a hell of a lot of things I thought of Scarlett, the vast majority of which ended up with her in a muzzle, hogtied, and screaming the Almighty’s name in glorious rapture. Tall and lithe, Scarlett was every demon’s wet dream, with me being no exception. It didn’t matter we were cousins. Growing up in Hell, a guy learned pretty quickly to take what pleasures he could wherever he could, the more sinful the better. This ranked up there nicely with coveting thy neighbor and carnal affairs with somebody else’s goat. And while Scarlett was dressed in loose fitting breeches and a shirt she’d tucked into her thick leather belt, there was no hiding the curves God had given her.
