by Logan Fox
Subject to your masters
Sells his daughter
Lay with him
Great plague
Fiery lake
Seek death
Know that I am God
There’s a noise from the living area.
I snap the bible closed and hurriedly put it back on the nightstand, trying to adjust it the way I had found it. Then I grab my clothes, and dart out of Reuben’s room, fully expecting him to be standing there.
But thank the Lord, he’s not.
I release a noisy sigh, press a hand to my hammering heart, and let myself into the bathroom. After stripping down and folding my dirty clothes in a neat pile, I set Reuben’s blood-red rosary on top of everything. I’m not sure how many times wood can get wet before it starts warping or something but I’d rather not risk damaging it. Plus, I’m sure the water will eventually wash away its glorious smell.
The hot water feels sinfully good. I start lathering my hair, eyes squeezed shut so I don’t get shampoo in them. I’m just about to start rinsing when a hand slithers over my shoulders.
Reuben.
I bite the inside of my lip, half-mortified, half-jumping out of my skin with excitement.
I start to turn around, but then his hands sink into my hair and begin rinsing out the shampoo. It hurts when his fingers tangle in my wet hair, but my body still sparks to life—skin tingling, lips quivering, core tightening.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” I murmur, leaning into his touch.
Once my hair is rinsed, his hands slide down the back of my neck, returning to my shoulders. Strong thumbs sink deep into my flesh, applying pressure right on the precipice between pleasure and pain.
I groan at how magnificent it feels. At how right this moment is. It’s as if wild electricity sparks between us. If I hadn’t been drenched, I’m sure my arm hairs would be standing on end.
“Thank you for letting me use your shower. I really needed…” My words trail away as his hands move lower. He uses the flat of his hands to gently push me forward. On instinct, I put out my hands, bracing myself against the wall.
His knuckles dig into the flesh alongside my spine as he starts working his way down my wet skin.
One hand stays at the small of my back, working the muscles above my hips, the other slides down my ass.
Over the bruises Zachary gave me.
My breath catches at the faint thrum of pain he brings to the surface as he strokes my skin. Did Zachary tell Reuben about our deal last night? Apollo says they tell each other everything.
He squeezes my ass cheek.
I can’t help but groan at the deep-seated pleasure that pain forces into my core.
He lets out a strange sound, as if he’s holding back a groan of his own.
There’s a muted splash as he moves closer. Now both hands are on my ass. My heart stutters as his fingertips sink lower and lower.
“Wait.”
He stops.
“I’m not…I don’t think I’m ready for…for that.” My cheeks heat up at the admission. He must think I’m some kind of cock tease, letting him touch me and then pushing him away when—
His fingers wreath deep into my hair and he uses that grip to tilt my head back. Water streams over my face, some going up my nose. I splutter, starting to struggle, and then his mouth closes over mine.
Suddenly, the fact that I could drown doesn’t matter anymore. Eyes closed, heart thumping, I melt against him.
He tastes like toothpaste and something sweet—soda?—and his lips massage mine so expertly that I barely notice when he draws me against him again.
Until I feel his hard-on, of course. I gasp into his mouth, my eyes flickering open. Water pours into them, forcing them shut again.
This is ridiculous. He’s going to drown me.
“Let’s get out,” I whisper through his kisses, blubbering like a fish half the time.
In response, he reaches past me and turns down the faucet. Not all the way—water still patters over my face—but it’s more a gentle drizzle than a cloud break now.
His mouth is on mine before I can blink the water out of my eyes.
Lips so warm.
Slippery.
Demanding.
Holy hell, how can anything feel this good?
I lose myself to him. My lips open on cue when his tongue slides over them, allowing him deeper inside. He moans against my lips, and my core tightens painfully at that urgent sound.
His hands coast down the front of my body. He squeezes my breasts, and rolls my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers hard enough to make me flinch.
Then he slides his fingers down my tummy. His kiss slows, and with it, his movements.
He presses harder against me, until I start aching deep, deep inside. His hands converge above my pubic bone, resting there for an eternity as he draws every ounce of resistance from me with a hard, languid kiss.
My arms had been dangling at my side. When I reach up to touch him, he grabs one of my wrists and instead urges my hand behind my back, between us, close to his cock.
Then the other hand.
I claw into his thighs. Does he want me to touch him? How do I—?
He grabs my wrist again, slides his hand over the back of mine, and meshes our fingers together. Then he drags my hand up his thigh, over his trunks, and up his stomach.
The fingers of his other hand are still just above my aching center. But when he urges my hand down his stomach and behind his underwear, those fingers sink down too.
I touch his cock the same moment he touches my clit.
I convulse, shuddering uncontrollably as a whiplash of heat and electricity surges through me. I break away from his kiss, my head digging into his shoulder as I arch away from his body.
But he refuses to let me go. He starts massaging my clit—hard and achingly slow—as he curls my fingers around his cock.
He rains kisses against the shell of my ear, using his teeth to toy with my earlobe as he starts pumping his cock with my hand, his fingers wrapped tight around mine.
“Fuck,” I whisper, arching again as his fingers press even harder against my clit.
What the hell am I doing? I barely know this guy, and here we are, probably seconds away from fucking? I didn’t think my first time would be in a shower. But, God, this feels so fucking right.
He moves my hand up and down his smooth, hard cock, speeding up as his fingers start strumming my clit faster than before.
My mouth falls open, but then I choke on a spray of water. He abandons my clit just long enough to turn off the water, and then dives back between my legs. But this time his hand sinks down lower than before. His fingertips sink between my lips, and he strokes all four fingers over my entrance.
I shudder hard, a broken gasp spilling out of my open mouth.
He groans, low and deep, and then I don’t feel his underwear brushing against my hand anywhere.
Shit.
This is happening.
Fuck!
I’m terrified, but ecstatic at the same time. If just this feels so fucking good, I can’t imagine—
His lips touch mine, demanding another kiss. I turn my head, and he devours my lips and tongue as if he owned them the second he saw me.
My eyes flicker on the cusp of opening as he applies a hard pressure on my clit and starts rubbing his palm against that nub of nerves.
“Fuck.” I moan hard against his mouth, and move his cock down with my hand. I’m still jerking him off, but now his crown can’t be more than a few inches from my entrance. I’m too short though. I have no idea how this would even work if I wanted—
“We’d need a stool for that, peaches,” he says.
My heart plummets into my stomach when my eyes fly open and I see Cass’s face an inch from mine.
I open my mouth for a scream, but he’s too fast. In a second, he’s flipped me around and pinned me to the tiled wall, one hand over my mouth the other on my throat.
&n
bsp; My teeth can’t reach him because he keeps his hand cupped. My nails don’t seem to leave any marks on his wet, naked skin.
It was a trap.
That was what was bugging me earlier. I’d flipped through page after page of Reuben’s handwriting, but I’d been too idiotic to connect the dots.
“Would you calm the fuck down?” Cass says, tilting his head and frowning as if I’m working on his last nerve.
So it’s easier for him to rape me? I belt out an enraged—if muffled—scream and try to knee him in the groin. He twists away like all of this is second nature. Then he’s up against me with the wall of his body, pressing me to the wet tiles.
“What, suddenly my dick isn’t good enough for you anymore?” he growls. “And here I thought I’d do something nice for you.”
Astonishment turns my bones to jelly.
He studies me for a second, and then slowly peels his fingers from my mouth. “Jesus, I’d have been fucked off with you if you’d gotten me in the nuts,” he mutters.
“Nice?” I say, my voice violin-string tight. “Nice?”
He slaps his hand over my mouth again. “Keep. It. Down,” he growls through his teeth.
I almost try and knee him again, but I have a feeling that would be the worst way to handle this fucked up situation.
He removes his hand again and steps back. I twist my legs and slap an arm over my breasts in a lame attempt at modesty as I start shaking. Not that it actually matters. His hands were all over me. Almost inside me. And I—I was—I’d had his…
His eyes slide down my wet skin. “You cold?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.” I circle him warily as I move to the frosted glass doors.
I can’t believe I let him touch me. I can’t believe I almost let him fuck me.
I step onto the mat outside and reach blindly for a towel. Cass shifts as if he wants to get out too, but I lift my chin and widen my eyes at him.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper furiously. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He rakes his fingernails over his buzz cut, eyes narrowing. Then he brings up his hand and licks each of his fingertips, popping them out of his mouth one at a time. “Hate me all you want, your cunt is crushing hard on me.”
“Get out.”
He shrugs and slowly gets out of the shower. Unbidden, my eyes dart over his body as my mouth sets in a furious, trembling line.
Motherfucker.
Then I see the burn marks scattered over his muscles. I thought I’d felt something when my fingertips had skimmed his abs but I’d been too lost in his kiss.
Cass grabs the other towel and slings it around his waist. “So you wanna fuck in the bedroom or on the couch?” he asks as a wicked grin slides onto his mouth.
“Get out!” I stab a finger at the door.
He chuckles as he leaves the bathroom, but the sound cuts off as soon as I kick the door closed behind him with a strangled yell.
I should be shocked. Terrified even. But I’m just fucking angry.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
The worst part is, my body hasn’t caught up yet. I’m still aching inside, and the more I move about trying to get my wits about me, the worse it gets. I feel like I’m going to implode.
Fuck.
I glare up at the ceiling, bite down on my lip, squeeze closed my eyes, and shove a hand between my legs.
But I wrench it away before I touch myself, shame worming through every inch of me.
I deserve this frustration for being such an idiot. Priests remain celibate all the time. Nothing to it.
I dry off and dress, and as I’m about to leave the bathroom, I hear Reuben’s apartment door opening.
Thank God. At least I don’t have to face him. My hand is on the door handle when I hear voices.
“What are you doing here?” Reuben asks.
I freeze, straining to hear through the door.
“Lady Malone needed a shower. I’m her escort.”
“Your hair is wet.”
“And?”
“Why is your hair wet?”
“I had a shower too.”
My chest clenches so tight, I can barely breathe.
“Alone?”
“That would be wasting water,” Cass says through a laugh. “It was her idea.”
I bolt out of the bathroom. “He’s lying!”
Reuben turns his frown onto me. He’s wearing jeans and a tight-fitting sweater. Standing next to each other like that, it’s ridiculous to think I’d confused Cass for Reuben. They’re close in height, but Reuben’s almost twice his size.
Oh, you knew, you blasphemous little slut.
The immoral, sinful, hedonistic part of me I always suppress figured it out right away, but the bitch kept silent until it was too late. Until I was so caught up in—
“So you didn’t shower together?” Reuben asks, glancing back at Cass.
“No. I mean, we did, but—”
Reuben drops his gaze. “You should leave. I’m busy with an assignment.”
“It wasn’t my idea. He tricked me!”
But he walks into his room without a backward glance. Somehow, it’s worse that he closes the door quietly and doesn’t slam it. Disappointment always hurts so much more than anger.
“Shall we go?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me. He’s wearing a smug smile, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back on one foot. The epitome of someone having a rip-roaring good time.
“Asshole!” I throw him the finger, glaring at him as I storm over to the door and let myself out.
Everyone around here is crazy.
As I walk back to my room, my dirty clothes bundled against my chest, Alice in Wonderland plays on repeat through my head.
We’re all mad here.
We’re all mad here.
We’re all mad here.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trinity
“Come.”
My heart flutters uneasily at Gabriel’s command. I tug at the waist of my dress before letting myself inside. The dark, long-sleeved dress—a creation that would have better suited Wednesday from the Adams family—sits tighter than I like it. I even considered opening some of the buttons that run down the front, but I was afraid I’d end up looking like an eighteenth-century prostitute. Mom bought the dress for me about two years ago and I guess I’ve filled out since then.
The smell of cigarettes and wood smoke wash over me as I open the second door leading into Gabriel’s living area.
He’s wearing a button-up shirt tonight, sleeves rolled up to mid-arm, and a pair of dark slacks.
“Good evening,” he says, turning from the fire to greet me.
I smile and lift my hand to wave.
He comes over, spreads his arms, and draws me into a hug. When I don’t hug him back, he hurriedly steps back and releases me.
“Is everything okay?”
Wet concrete pours into my stomach. “Yeah, of course,” I manage, although my voice is anything but steady. “I’m just a little tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“When would you like to eat? Sister Miriam mentioned that you weren’t at lunch today, so I’m guessing—”
Is he keeping tabs on me?
He cuts off as if I’d asked the question out loud.
I guess if anyone’s going to notice I’m missing, it’ll be Miriam. And I’m much easier to spot than one of the hundreds of boys in this place.
You’re jumping at shadows, Trinity.
“I’m okay.” I force myself to move closer, pretending to warm myself by the fire. I’m already starting to sweat, but if I keep my distance, he might become suspicious. I can’t have him wondering if I have an ulterior motive for being here tonight.
Someone slipped another note under my door a little less than an hour ago. It wasn’t Cass’s handwriting, thank God. I assume it was Zachary’s.
Keep him busy until eight.
You’ll have 15 min alone.
Good luck.
It’s half-past seven. I should have asked for supper if only to pass the time, but I can’t eat when I’m this nervous.
The drive is hidden behind the elastic of my underwear. The dress’s fabric is too thick for it to stand out, but to me it feels like a massive, ticking bomb you’d have to be blind to miss.
“How was your…trip?” I hazard. It’s as good a question as any right? I have no idea where Gabriel’s been the past few days, so—
Checking in on the children he has holed up in a basement somewhere of course—children like Zachary and Reuben and Apollo and Cass. Maybe the Keepers in his newest hidey-hole fucked up and he had to go sort some shit out. Or maybe he brought some new Ghosts through for a tour of the premises.
These are the bunk beds our little sex slaves sleep in. Here are their chains. This is where we feed them, but only if they’ve been good little boys.
Jesus fuck, Trinity. What the hell is wrong with you? You’re here to prove Gabriel is innocent, or did you forget?
Still, I hear myself blurting out, “Where did you go?”
Gabriel lets out a soft laugh. “Nowhere interesting. I had a last-minute meeting with the construction company fixing up this old place.” A rueful smile touches his mouth. “I truly hope their estimate is accurate. I can’t have them gutting the school’s finances.”
Repair estimates and finances? Pointless. I have to get him talking about something personal. So I ask him the first thing that pops into my head.
“Were my parents good people?” I ask.
He frowns at me, and then slowly sinks into his chair. His eyes never leave me as he nips at the tip of a cigarette from his box and draws it out with his teeth to light it.
“Sit, child.”
I obey without thinking. Thankfully there’s already a chair near my ass else I’d have ended up on the floor because I obey without thinking.
“Would you like a drink?”
I nod. Gabriel sits forward in his armchair, twists to the side, and pours out two glasses of wine. One is little more than a splash in the glass, the other is close to the brim.
The sissy inside me wants to refuse his offer, but I push aside Trinity the Wimp just as she starts yelling about how wrong this is.