Thy Kingdom Come (Deliver Us From Evil Trilogy Book One)

by Monica James

  “Trust your…feelings for me,” she says softly. “They’re real. I know they are…just how mine are for you.”

  Her face is heavy with emotion, begging I confirm what she just said.

  “Where’ve y’been?” I ask in vain as I know she won’t answer me.

  When she doesn’t reply, I shake my head. “This is exactly the reason I can’t trust ya, regardless of my feelin’s. Ya need to go.”

  I turn my back, but she reaches out and snares my forearm.

  Peering down at her fingers, I give her a silent warning. If she has a point, best she makes it now. “So you admit you do have feelings for me?”

  “What difference does it make? Those feelin’s mean fuck all without trust. I know yer not tellin’ me somethin’ because yer afraid. But I’d never hurt ye. I’d never judge ye. But ya still won’t tell me, and those feelin’s of betrayal are more important than any others.

  “I’ve been lied to my entire life. I’m done with it.”

  She nods, holding back her tears. “I promise, all of this will make sense soon. Can you just trust me until then?”

  “I don’t know that I can,” I reply honestly.

  Her grip around me trembles, but I stand firm.

  “For what it’s worth, I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” she confesses, permitting her tears to fall. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’ve risked so much…for you. I knew the consequences, but I didn’t care. If only you knew what that meant, you’d understand why I’m doing what I am.

  “I fall to pieces when I’m with you, and I don’t even care because I know you’ll be there to help me heal. You’ve always been there.

  “We don’t make sense, but you can’t deny this attraction. It was there from the first moment we met. Not just physically, but in here as well.” She places her hand on my chest over my hammering heart. “This is as honest as I can be for now. Please let it be enough.”

  Every part of me is demanding I throw her out. It’s what I should have done ages ago, but instead, I place my hand over hers. “Sure, this is it.”

  She smiles, cementing how fucked I really am. I know this is wrong and probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but I’m knackered fighting a war I don’t want to win.

  She loops her fingers through mine and leads me toward the bathroom. I go willingly. I allow her to unzip my hoodie and watch as she drops it to the floor. Without a word, she takes off my T-shirt, coaxing me to lift my arms so she can slip it over my head.

  Once I’m topless, she turns on the tap and wets a facecloth with hot water. Wringing it out, she commences to wipe my face clean. The act is filled with kindness and care. I’ve never been tended to this way before.

  A knot forms in my stomach because I’m falling for Babydoll, and I know I’ve passed the point of no return.

  Once my face is clean, she chews her bottom lip and slips out of her blue dress. She stands before me in a black bra and matching underwear. She then reaches around her back and unhooks her bra. The moment she allows it to fall and I see her beautiful tits, I sigh, feeling at home being with her this way.

  She clutches onto my belt buckle and draws me toward her, where she unfastens my belt and then my jeans. I’m not wearing any boxers, so a small gasp leaves her when she sees me semi-erect. I step out of my jeans and await further command.

  Her cheeks turn scarlet, but she loops her fingers in the waistband of her underwear and takes them off.

  I love her body—supple but strong. I know she’s embarrassed with me looking at her this way, but I can’t stop.

  She reaches into the shower and turns on the water, using her hand to test the temperature. When it’s right, she steps inside and offers a hand, welcoming me inside. I accept, and the moment I step under the spray, a sated groan leaves me as the scalding water feels perfect against my skin.

  Babydoll lathers the sponge with the soap and proceeds to wash my body, standing on her toes to reach my upper shoulders and back. I allow her to tend to me because I like it. I like her looking after me because her strength, her stubbornness, shows me that she cares.

  Babydoll is my equal in every sense of the word. She said she’s risked so much for me, and I believe her. For her to tell me about the raid, to give back my brooch, to be here now, tending to me when I’ve been nothing but an arsehole to her, confirms that she has fought for me, for us, regardless of the consequences.

  And that’s the reason I can’t push her away.

  I’m sick of losing the people I lo—

  I soon stop myself from thinking such thoughts because love is something I know nothing about. But what I feel now for Babydoll, it comes fucking close.

  The water falls around us, and I resist the urge to lick the trickles off Babydoll’s perfect tits. She washes over my chest and stomach, caressing over the barbell in my nipple, driving me fucking insane. When she dips low, brushing over my erection, we both hiss at the connection.

  But she doesn’t let that distract her from getting me clean.

  She washes my thighs and just as she is about to drop to her knees to wash my calves and feet, I stop her. “Never drop to yer knees for a man.”

  Aye, she’s been on her knees before, but this is different. Being on her knees is for me to bring her pleasure, not to serve me.

  “I don’t mind doing it for you. I want to take care of you,” she whispers, waterdrops sticking to her lashes. “I like it…I like you.”

  I can’t stand it any longer.

  Bending low, I slam my mouth against hers, kissing her with an urgency that leaves me breathless. She loops her arms around my neck and stands on her toes to reduce the height difference, but I pick her up, coaxing her to wrap her legs around my waist.

  I slam her back against the shower wall, needing to be inside of her right fucking now.

  Lifting her, I position her over my cock, and without delay, I lower her onto my aching shaft. She shudders. I fucking growl.

  She bounces, working my cock as I slam into her over and over again. Our bodies are slick with water and our desire, and each time I pull out and sink back into her pussy, I curse because she feels so good.

  Breaking our kiss, I bend and take her nipple into my mouth. I suckle it, enjoying the gasping moans slipping past Babydoll’s parted lips. She clutches my hair, tugging firmly and holding on as I ride her hard.

  I lift her arse, encouraging her to bounce on my cock, and when she clenches her muscles around me, I almost come. “Fucking hell,” I curse, increasing the tempo.

  She slides up and down, her pussy hugging me tight, and when she shudders, I know she’s going to come. Just as the last shudder leaves her, I pull out, spin her around, and press her body to the tiled wall. I slip back into her pussy, bending my knees to deepen the angle.

  I ride her hard, unable to stop this hunger I feel for her. I spread her arse cheeks so I can see the way her cunt hugs my cock—it’s fucking amazing. We fit perfectly.

  She splays her hands against the wall, arching her back to take me in deep. She is fearless in everything that she does. I want to fuck her for hours, but being lost in Babydoll is a drug like no other, and when she reaches down to play with herself, I’m hooked to the taste.

  After two violent strokes that shift her up the wall, I pull out and come on her lower back with a sated groan. My heart is beating so fast, I’m certain I’m about to have a heart attack.

  Babydoll is still playing with herself as I’m coming, but my girl won’t leave here deprived.

  I spin her around and drop to my knees before her, as it should be—a man bowing before his queen. She peers down with nothing but love reflected in her eyes as I lower my mouth to her pussy and eat her out.

  Her tiny whimpers as she tugs at my hair get me hard once more, but this is about Babydoll and showing her how much she means to me. I may not be able to say it, but I hope she understands this is so much more to me than a casual ride.

  She spasms around
my tongue, coming once again. I lick every honeyed drop. The moment she sags, I catch her, and we sluggishly kiss as I allow her to taste herself on my lips.

  I need her again.

  Turning off the water, I dry us off quickly before leading her into the bedroom, where I toss her onto the bed. She crawls up the mattress, watching me with wide eyes.

  “These feelings don’t make sense,” she confesses, reflecting my thoughts perfectly.

  “Aye, they do not.” I chase after her, pressing my body against hers.

  She opens her legs, welcoming me home because that’s how I feel when I’m with Babydoll—she’s my human.

  “But I do not care because this is what I want. You are what I want.”

  She blinks back what looks like tears. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

  “That’s ’cause y’ve been speakin’ to the wrong people.”

  “Sometimes, you can be quite charming.” She gasps when I show her how charming I can be when I sink into her pussy.

  “Don’tcha tell anyone,” I whisper into her ear, biting the shell as I commence riding her.

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Hope to die,” I conclude, not realizing how significant that phrase is.

  I can’t take my eyes off him.

  Watching Punky draw gives me a sense of peace. It’s here, in the silence where we can both be ourselves. The way he composes himself is a work of art within itself.

  We’ve spent the past few days together, which means something has happened to him. No one has come looking for me, but I don’t mistake that as freedom. I know they’re just biding their time. Something big lingers on the horizon, which is why I’m going to tell Punky the truth.

  I can’t lie to him any longer.

  I know what that means for everyone involved, but we’ll figure it out because I trust him. And to gain his trust, I need to tell him who I am and what I was sent to do.

  Nervously wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans, I decide I’m just going to blurt it all out and hope for the best.

  “C’mere,” he says, his smooth accent eliciting a sprinkle of goose bumps from head to toe.

  Rising from the sofa, I walk to where he sits in front of his easel. I look at his sketch in black charcoal. The image is slightly abstract, but there appears to be a person with their arms stretched behind them. They look like they’re about to take flight. It’s beautiful.

  “D’ya like it?”

  Placing my hands on his bare shoulders, I lay a single kiss on his stubbled cheek. “I love it.”

  “Each person I meet, they know somethin’ I don’t. I take that piece of information and learn from it. No matter how small that teachin’ may be,” he shares, his philosophical view on life just adding more depth to the amazing man he is.

  “I woke up next to ye this mornin’ and this is what I saw inside my head.”

  “It’s hauntingly beautiful,” I say, admiring his strokes and how, if you stare long enough, you can begin to make out her eyes, her lips, her hands. Others may see a man, but I see a woman, and that’s the beauty of art—it’s subjective. Nothing in life is ever black and white.

  “I don’t know whether she’s comin’ or goin’, but she doesn’t either, and that’s okay ’cause I know she’ll always come back to me.”

  Tears begin to well because I understand why Punky has drawn this. He still doesn’t know who I am, and it plagues him. If I were anyone else, they’d never have gotten away with what I have. But here he is, drawing a picture of how he feels, how he sees me.

  I don’t deserve him.

  He’s gone against everything he knows is right and given in to me because we’re both impervious to these feelings between us. I’ve never been in love, but with Punky, this feels something like love.

  “Y’ll always come back to me, will ye not?” he gently asks.

  Unable to take the gravity to his tone, I lift his chin and kiss him over his shoulder. He kisses me back softly, a promise that no matter what, he’ll always be my true north.

  “Yes, Puck, I’ll always come back to you. I promise.”

  I don’t know what’s caused the need to pledge this between us. Maybe he too senses a change is coming. But whatever the reason, I want him to know I’m his.

  I break our kiss to drop to my knees in front of him. He said never to drop to my knees for any man, but he isn’t merely any man—he’s my man. And I want him to know this isn’t a casual fling for me.

  I know what’s at risk. I know what happens if I don’t succeed. But I can’t stop the inevitable. I don’t want to.

  Peering up at him as I unfasten the zipper on his jeans, I relish in the way his blue eyes darken and turn predatory because I’ll happily be his prey. When his cock springs free, my core clenches because I want him.

  He threads his fingers through my hair, gently playing with the strands. These hands have killed, but when they touch me, I don’t feel anything but love.

  He’s already hard, so I take him into my mouth and take my time pleasuring him. Punky is a generous lover, always ensuring my needs are met before his. Yes, he’s rough and likes to tease, but I want it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I grip his thighs and take him deep, tears leaking from the corner of my eyes as I gag on his length. He tries to pull out, but I suck him harder and bob my head, savoring the way his body shudders under my touch.

  With a long sweep, I lick the underside of his shaft, loving how he tastes and feels.

  “Ach, fuckin’ hell,” he curses, gripping the seat beneath him.

  Increasing the tempo, I use my hand to grip his base and work in unison with my mouth. Tonguing over the slit in his cock, I hollow my cheeks and suck him hard. The pleasure I get from going down on him and being in control has me rubbing my legs together, desperate to soothe the ache down low.

  He sweeps my hair to one side, and I can feel those astute eyes watching me as I take him in deep. “Yer fuckin’ beautiful,” he pants, thrusting his hips and hitting the back of my throat. “Yer the only thing that makes sense to me.”

  I understand what he means. It’s the reason I was so drawn to him in the first place—we’re two broken people who somehow became a little less broken the day we met. Hardly eloquent, but to me, it makes perfect sense because I doubt either of us will be whole ever again.

  But together, we complete the other. Punky lends me his strength to mend my wounds, and I offer the same to him.

  “Fuck.” He tries to push me away, but I’m not going anywhere…in every sense of the word.

  He’s helpless to my demands, and with three quick thrusts, he spills his hot seed down my throat. I swallow every last drop, humming at the fact that a part of him is inside me.

  The moment he’s done, he lifts me and slams me onto his lap, where he kisses the ever-living fuck out of me. Just as he’s undoing my jeans, there is a sharp knock on his door.

  “I’m sorry, lad, but we need to head soon.”

  Punky groans against my lips. “For fuck’s sake. It’s my uncle Sean.”

  With one last kiss, he slaps my ass and takes me with him as he stands. I understand whatever his uncle needs him for is important.

  “I—”

  But Sean’s knocking on the door interrupts me. “Punky? Y’ve got ten minutes.”

  “Can we finish this later?” Punky asks as he does up his jeans. “I’m sorry.”

  I nod, as what I have to tell him will need more than ten minutes to spare.

  “Quit yer yackin’. I’m comin’.”

  Punky kisses me quickly. “I’ll call on ye tonight. I have somethin’ to take care of first.”

  I raise an eyebrow because this doesn’t sound good. I could press and ask what that entails, but I’m in no position to question him when he doesn’t even know my real name.

  “All right. Be careful.”

  “I always am.” He smirks, stealing my breath away. But who needs air when I’ve got this?


  He heads into the bathroom, where I hear the shower turn on.

  Gathering my things, I take one last look at the drawing, realizing I owe Punky so much. I see his uncle through the window. He’s on his cell, talking animatedly to someone. A sudden sense of foreboding overcomes me.

  Deciding to start small, I reach for a pencil and write a note in Punky’s sketch pad. Tearing off the page, I fold it and slip it into the pocket of his hoodie where it’s draped over the back of his chair. I don’t know why I feel the need to do this. Something inside me tells me it’s the right thing to do.

  Once I have everything, I open the front door and get onto my bike to ride home. Sean has gone, but that’s okay. I’ve already told him what I need to…unbeknownst to Punky.

  Yet another truth I keep from him.

  As I ride home, I think about the mess I find myself in. The night I came to see Punky, I was going to tell him everything. But I bumped into his uncle first. Punky told me he trusted his uncle with his life, which is why I decided to tell him what I knew.

  I wanted to tell Punky the truth, but his uncle assured me that he’d deal with it accordingly. With Punky’s temper, he was bound to act first and ask questions later, which would result in all of this being for nothing. I trust Sean because of Punky, so I hope I did the right thing.

  Sean was very understanding, and when I started, it was like I couldn’t stop. He knows my entire life story. He knows who I am. He had every right to throw me out and tell me to leave his nephew alone. But he didn’t.

  He promised me it would be all right, and that Punky would be safe. I just hope Punky understands.

  Even though Sean has asked I don’t tell Punky the truth until he says it’s okay, I don’t feel right lying to him any longer. I told Sean in the belief that this would be over. But all it’s done is make me feel guilty for confiding in Sean and not Punky.

  I find myself caught in a deeper web of lies, and I want out. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but two wrongs don’t make a right. She’ll forgive me. I know she will. But I won’t forgive myself, because I failed her…which is why I need to tell Punky the truth.