Darkroom Saga Omnibus 2

by Poppet

  “Relax Blossom, this is to help you get rid of some of that tension.”

  “Then you shouldn't have driven like a maniac.”

  He chuckles, tucking his chin in the crook of my neck, “You loved every minute of it.”

  “I did,” I grin, still admiring the view.

  “You're a rebel Candy, I think we've a lot more in common than you think.”

  “Oh yeah?” I drawl, “What makes you think I'm a rebel?”

  “Instinct. I know you are, I bet you got into tons of shit growing up.”

  Laughing now, I nod, “I did. That shed had my name all over it. Pa tanned my hide more often than the sun shone.”

  “Blossom…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I'm sorry about the house. To be honest I wasn't planning to meet a babe and hold onto her forever, my place was designed for me, a bachelor, someone who needed space and functionality, but now it's yours too. It needs a woman's touch. You can change anything you want, okay? You don't need my permission. It's your castle now.”

  Turning, forcing him to release me, I lean on my arm, facing him, “Why? Why change everything for me? Why me at all?”

  He looks so cute when he bites his lip, narrowing his eyes and staring away at the vista, going all shy on me, “I knew it the second I saw you. Then I kissed you and I knew for sure. You're her. You're the one.”

  He doesn't look at me, his jaw muscle jumping out while he tries to hold onto his pride and cool factor.

  “Ken, it's hard. I don't understand your religion at all, and Matthew is just scary. But when you're like this, a regular guy, I see a lot I like.”

  He rests his head on his folded arms, staring at me from his knees, his hair ruffled by the wind, looking so handsome and carefree that it stops my heart a little. He's quiet for minutes, finally saying, “I'm patient. I understand, but our community doesn't. They expect conversion overnight, they expect you to just forget who you are and start again. I know it's not that simple… it took me months before I was even willing to call him god.”

  “Then why do you expect me to just accept it?”

  He sits up, stretching his legs and linking ankles, unzipping his jacket and resting his head against the tree trunk, exposing a long lickable neck, “When I joined the church I moved into a house with a bunch of other bachelors, it was hardcore and rigid, our lessons painful and relentless. I had brothers in the deep end with me, we had our pride, we had egos that had no place in this religious world but which we'd developed from the time we learned as children that the strongest rule, they survive. It makes you tough, it makes you proud, it makes you want to win and stand head and shoulders above the rest. Being an equal wasn't something I could accept.”

  Looking back at me, stripping a grass stalk to busy his hands, he says, “But look at my life now. Look how much I have, I'm financially blessed, I'm in a community who don't just accept me but who value my strengths, I'm surrounded with love and support, the only thing missing was you, and then like a glass of champagne your bubbly effervescence captured my attention and I watched you for half the night, finally knowing that I wasn't leaving Sodom without you. Every inch of my being wanted to rampage across the room, dip you off that barstool and kiss you until you fainted in my arms. I wanted you that much. Blossom, without god I'd still be a rough kid living in a cold war country, fighting to survive. He gave me everything and more, why's it wrong for me to want to share that with you? The rules seem stupid at first, but in all organisms and ecosystems there's natural order, then there's no power struggle, it makes for a peaceful co-existence. Its an adjustment, a huge one, I get that, but babes all I want is to curl up with you at the end of each day, breathing in your sexy smell, feeling your skin against mine, holding your hand and snuggling with the woman who completes me. It may sound stupid to you but that missing rib is a big deal, we don't know we're missing it until we're holding the right woman and feel complete for the first time.”

  And there's my answer. Wow. Just fucking…. wow.

  My headache's gone.

  Taking my silence for skepticism, he continues, “You don't understand the religion because you've never heard it. You've only heard the distorted version of it, one where you're in a rat race, bound by so many rules and laws that essentially you have no freedom and are made to feel ashamed for the most basic instincts god gave you. They're inherent, they're natural, the shame comes from conditioning forced on you by a society that wants you to suffer for everything that feels good and right. You can't honestly tell me that you don't feel this too? We feel right, you and me, we're just…” He stares into the distance again, “… we're meant to be.”

  “Then why brand me? Why hurt me at all? That definitely didn't feel good and right and lovely.”

  Snapping his focus back to me, he states flatly, “So that no matter where you go, if anything should ever happen to me, they'll take care of you, they'll protect you. You have the mark of god on you Isaiah 44:5 and you will never be left to fend for yourself again. You will be provided for and protected. I should have warned you but I suck at communication. This is me chucking my pride to be brutally honest with you because I need you to be brutally honest with me. If you feel like shit you should be able to tell me so that I can tend to your needs. You're everything now, Candace. From the moment I brought you home my life went through a paradigm shift, now every decision I make includes you. I need to keep you safe from harm and that started with giving you the support of the church worldwide. My church, the Sons of Cain. Now you have the mark you will have the world even when I'm not in it.”

  Oh!

  “You could have warned me.”

  He nods, “I should have. I'm sorry.” He leans close, adjusting his position so we're face to face, “Will you forgive me for being an arse?”

  I nod, finding myself smiling, appreciating this solitude and heart to heart more than I can express. He palms my face, rubbing his thumb up and down my neck, whispering, “Kisses are the ink with which I intend to stain my devotion inside your soul.” And then like a movie cliché he closes the gap, softly sucking my lip into his mouth, deepening the kiss with such tenderness that my stubborn doubt is banished.

  He's complicated, intense, all or nothing, and the high of him is crazy and scary, but that's what's so addictive. Every moment I'm seeing a different side to him, and the more he reveals the deeper I fall into his gravity. It's magnetic and charismatic. Plus how many studs say such sweet things without sounding nerdy? He's got panache. Oodles of it.

  He snuggles me back against him, our silence companionable while we relax in the shade of our trees, listening to insects and birds, and wind whistling through grass.

  He keeps rubbing his thumb across my palm where we hold hands, and I find his incessant need to touch me endearing.

  “I should have brought a picnic. I was just in such a rush to get us out of there, away from Matthew and his interfering. Sorry sweetheart, next time I'll plan it properly.”

  “It doesn't matter, Ken. This was worth it. What's with Matthew anyway? Why's he so intense?”

  “He's taken a shine to you, a little too much.” He moves me so that I'm resting my head on his leg, staring up at him, saying down to me, “You're different to other ladies. Your level of sensitivity is extreme, but that doesn't change the rules we live by. In karate the first few months leave bruises because the body isn't conditioned to that kind of abuse, but it's essential to train the body by conditioning it daily, and after a while someone can punch you hard enough to split wood and it doesn't even hurt. There's no swelling or discomfort. That's how it's going to be for you, the first time Matthew decides you've done something wrong he's going to make me spank you, it's the way of our ecosystem, no one can be an exception to this rule. But trust me, everyone adapts to change, the body does develop resistance. Know this, I never want to hurt you, and when that day comes, if it ever comes, I'll be as gentle as I can, just hard enough to please him. Okay?”

&nb
sp; “Why? Why the hell do you have to abuse me to make the vicar happy?”

  “It's in Hebrews, it says the lord disciplines those he loves. Hebrews 12:6. There are so many passages about discipline, and if Matthew thinks you are challenging my male authority he'll insist I put you in the place god gave women. We're only following god's rules, we don't mean to insult you but we know god sees everything, he rewards those of us who do what he says is right, and he destroys those of us who don't. If I don't correct you Matthew will, and he doesn't love you, I do. Love conquers all evil, it conquers every hurdle and obstacle, it's also patient and kind and understanding. I can't change the rules darling, but I can promise to always restore your joy. It takes time to adapt, but I need you to help me in this. Don't give Matthew a reason to see you as a difficult woman who refuses to follow god. Don't give him a reason to force discipline on your body. I'd much rather be loving it and stroking it than giving it bruises.”

  “Then we'll move. We can go somewhere else.”

  He gives me a wry smile, “No one can escape god. We can run but we can't hide. Say you'll try, for me? Candace I don't want anything to come between us, especially not Matthew. He has cameras everywhere, he records everything, he is always watching, and so is god.”

  “Why is that? How come he has cameras in church?”

  “How else do you suppose he gets his ugly mug up on that huge screen behind him? It's for the service, Blossom. It's so everyone can see what he's doing.”

  “Oh right. How blonde of me. Now I feel stupid.”

  “You don't feel stupid, you feel soft and sexy and perfect.” To illustrate this point he contorts, leaning over me and kissing me to China.

  Somehow we've ended up entangled, both of us lying on wilting moss, his eyes taking on that supreme level of intensity.

  “How are you feeling? Does your skin still hurt?”

  I reach up, rubbing my palms over the stubble on his cheeks, loving the soft scrub; it's like a brush and it feels so yummy.

  “The painkillers have stopped the hurt, and my headache has even gone,” I smile.

  He smiles back, wide and jubilant, kissing me again three times over, resting on his elbow with his head supported by his hand, cupping my boob and giving it a little squeeze. “I could stare at you all year, touch you for a century, and still not tire of how amazing you feel.”

  How did I get so lucky? The way we met was unfortunate, him rescuing me from Jan being arrested, but hell's bells I sure am happy we did. He's the perfect package. His little society might be bizarre but they're nice folks, well except for Matthew. It's time I went with the flow, enjoyed the ride, even if Jan thinks only dead fish go with it. She's the dead fish now, and I've met a wonderful man whose sincere and candid, a big softie with a romantic streak wider than the milky way. And if I let myself I'll love him so hard I won't be able to think straight. The urge to touch him, kiss him, to make good old fashioned love out in the open without a single witness is an overbearing yearning.

  Pushing him down I sit on his hips, leaning over him while I worm my hands under his shirt, caressing his warm skin, kissing him while my hair blocks out the world, cocooning the two of us in a pocket of sensual perfection. Soul to soul, heart to heart.

  I don't need to prove I'm a good woman, all I need is to believe in this, trusting my intuition and taking hold of his body the way he's taken hold of my heart. The lust and affection and attraction conspire, my desire coursing heat through me, making me just want to strip him and kiss his chest, touching him the way he's touched me, taking ownership.

  He holds my legs, chuckling, “Babes, if you keep doing that you're going to turn woody into a nine iron.”

  That's when I realize I'm subconsciously gyrating up and down over his crotch, and he's reacting. Laughing, I undo the button, kissing him while I free his penis, standing and getting my boots and trousers off, then sitting back on his silky skin. It's weird how he's smooth and hard at the same time, the heat of skin on skin enough to make me unstable and badly horny.

  Easing him inside, I sit and stare at him, at the smokey bourbon eyes gazing lustfully at me, his lids heavier, his mouth cast into a satisfied smirk. He pushes my jacket off, lifting my shirt up to stare at my nipples, cupping my boobs when I start the delectable process of making love to him.

  Looking up at the clear blue sky, the breeze strokes my skin, my energy focussed on the sensation inside me, in the glorious glide of friction and pleasure, feeling him right where I need him, rubbing that spot over and over again, mindless, a little dizzy and breathless, my climax steals my air when it breaches through all consciousness, reducing me to a singular pinpoint of euphoria.

  That's when he thrusts, hard enough to jolt me, pressing his hands down so hard on my legs that I'm positive I'll have two hand bruises tomorrow. His gasp is harsh, abrupt and forceful, his inhalation serrated, his entire body tense, and when I lean back to stroke down his legs, staying still while he cums, it pleases me no end that his feet look like his toes have curled inside his boots.

  He finally opens his eyes, looking at me with such happiness that it makes me smile, him saying, “Tell me you deny this. Tell me you don't feel what I feel. Tell me you don't want and need this as much as I do.”

  I answer by lying down on him, resting on his chest and shoulder, hearing the crazed thumping of his heart. “It's that kiss, the one you gave me in Sodom. It's not you I have an issue with, it's the methods of control I have an issue with. But yeah, this is fucking awesome.”

  He caresses my hair, a bird chirping in the bough above us, him saying, “I knew we had to be alone. I knew you needed the freedom as much as I did. All we need in this life is the sun, the sky, the wild, and a man and woman as one flesh. This is how god made us, and it's a beautiful thing.”

  Feeling serene and content I lift up enough to kiss his throat, his chest, and the palm that reaches for my head again, holding his hand over my heart, feeling connected, feeling precious and special, feeling the oneness of completion.

  I guess he's right. This is what they teach but it took context to help it make sense.

  This right here, this is context.

  And he's right, it's a beautiful thing.

  ~ Chapter 13 ~

  May her breasts satisfy you always

  ~Proverbs 5:18

  Kenan:

  As we pull up to my driveway the tension returns full tilt at the sight of Duke and Jared waiting for me. It's serious if Matt sent the goon squad.

  Ambling the Hayabusa to the garage doors, I kill the engine and look at Duke, waiting for him to state his purpose, them acting as a human blockade.

  “Matthew wants to see you,” he snarls, looking grim.

  I nod, hitting the remote for the garage to open, helping Candace off it while keeping my legs flexed to hold the bike, my feet planted firmly either side of it.

  I flip my visor up, ordering, “Get inside, keep the doors locked. I'll be back soon as I can.”

  I wait for Blossom to go into the scullery passage, closing the kitchen door behind her before starting up the engine. This time I wait until the garage door is secured, then shoot the revs and go zooting up the road. Watching the goons recede in the mirrors I lift my hand in salute, speeding in a noisy growl up to Matthew's lodge.

  I take my sweet motherfucking time unlatching the helmet, putting it on the seat 'just so', knifing fingers through my hair, undoing the top of my jacket, hooking thumbs in pockets to take a mediocre stroll along his garden path and up the steps to his front door.

  Boris already has it open, glowering at me, “He's in the vault.”

  I nod, sauntering my way down the side hall, up the three flights of stairs and to the vault at the top of his mansion. He's seated behind his desk, the walls lined with DVD's, and he's wearing a shirt for once. He skewers me with the death glare when I walk in but I don't take the bait, staying casual, flopping into a leather wing-backed chair opposite his. “You wanted to see me?”

&n
bsp; Matthew points at his computer monitor, his feet still propped on the desk, saying with venom, “What is this shit? You let her exert authority over you for the entire brotherhood to see.”

  Staying impassive I do my best to seem relaxed and unconcerned, “It was my night, I did it the right way, after that it's anything goes, you know that.”

  He slams the desk with his palm, snapping his feet to the ground to leer at me, “She isn't redeemed, the purification failed! This is the exact reason why Adam divorced Lilit and you know it. Lilit refused to lie under Adam, she had to be on top. If Adam didn't allow his woman to dominate him then why the hell are you?”

  Arching eyebrows, I point out the obvious, “And we all know how that turned out. God gave her wings to fly away from Adam, so Adam had a hissy fit and had god make Eve, this time of his own body so Eve would like Adam's smell and stay. Don't lecture me on the bible Matthew, I know it as well as you do, and I know the original texts just like you. I know who Revelation 12:14 refers to. But I also know that in my own house with my own woman I can get jiggy the way I like it. Did you not pause to consider she was pleasing me? That it was my choice to make, not yours or Adam's. Oh for Pete's sake Matt, don't get your knickers in a twist. She was happy to lie under me, I covered her, I redeemed her, I made her mine. If I decide to have my chick pick up the slack so I can relax back and enjoy it, that's my prerogative.”

  He bolts to his feet, stomping to my side of his desk to point his finger in my face, “She turned her back on you. Her first night with you after purification and she turned her fucking back on your authority!”

  For fuck's sake. “And I let her. I like that view.”

  “She needs intervention, bring her in,” he orders.

  Now that's where I draw the line, standing up so I can look down on him, I struggle to keep my cool, saying, “Bullshit, Matthew. You gave me a week, so back the fuck off.”