The Pope: Cards of Love

by Lovell, LP

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t know anything.” I know I sound hollow, my voice a hoarse croak. Truthfully, I’m terrified, but I probably should be. Even an innocent girl would be scared of those accusations, right? And I’m not innocent. I did exactly what he’s saying I did.

  Pushing to his feet, he shakes his head, and I hunch under the weight of his obvious disappointment. He thought I was a nice girl, a good person. He thought I would roll over on Nate, and I wish I could help him. I wish I was better, but I’m not. I’m looking out for myself.

  “You’re free to go.” Scooping up all the pictures, he leaves the room.

  By the time I’ve walked home from the police station, I’m in a full-scale panic. So much so that I don’t notice the black BMW parked right outside my house until it’s too late. The driver’s door swings open and Nate gets out, straightening to his full height. I still, holding my hand up. It’s broad daylight, but I don’t trust him. As I look at him, all I see is the mad rage that painted his face that night, and all I feel is his hands at my throat, the blow to my face.

  I slide my hand in my pocket, palming the knife that I always keep on me.

  “What did you tell them?” he asks. How the hell does he know that I was with the police?

  “Judas is on his way here,” I lie. “You should leave.”

  “What. Did. You. Tell. Them?” he growls, edging closer.

  “Touch me, and I’ll scream,” I warn. His nostrils flare, his fists clenching at his sides. He’s not going anywhere. “I told them I didn’t know anything, okay? You were right. They wanted me to flip on you. I told them I couldn’t help them. Now leave.”

  He visibly relaxes, though his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why would you do that, hey?”

  “Because I don’t want to die! I don’t want any of this.”

  Nate laughs. “Don’t want it? You’re fucking Judas Kingsley.” He pushes off the car and comes closer. I back away again. “You think I’m bad? You have no idea the things the Kingsley brothers have done.”

  “I know what he does,” I say, my voice gaining strength.

  He smirks. “Do you? He’s fucking with you, Lila. Playing you. What interest could a guy like that possibly have with a girl like you?”

  “Nate, just leave.”

  “Of course you could turn it around, use him, play him…”

  I frown and rub my throbbing temples. “What?”

  “I still love you, Lila. We could—”

  My high-pitched laugh cuts through the air. “Oh my god. You beat me up, Nate! You’re a fucking psycho!”

  He creeps closer again, and again, I back up. “I was just so mad when I thought you were working for him.” His jaw tenses. “I didn’t think you were fucking him,” he spits. And if he had, I’m sure he probably would have killed me, even though I wasn’t sleeping with Judas at the time.

  “So you think I’m going to leave Judas and come running back to you?” Has he always been this crazy? Did I just not see it?

  “Is it the money, Lila? The nightclubs and the fast cars? Thought you’d move up in the world?”

  “Fuck you, Nate,” I snap, growing braver. “He’s helping me. I have a job that doesn’t involve—”

  “Ah, yes, in Fire. The very place that you helped to shut down.” He smirks. “That golden pussy must be working a treat for him to overlook that.” He eyes me up and down. “But it’s all fixed now, right? A couple of dead kids aren’t enough to keep a Kingsley down.” There’s something about the way he says it, the maniacal look in his eyes, the twisted grin on his lips.

  I decide to edge around the other side of his car, and he smirks as he watches me move, delighting in the fact that I’m scared of him. I reach in my pocket, readying my keys as I shove through my front gate and dash towards the door. My heart hammers and my hands shake, but I manage to get the door open. Stepping inside, I close the door on the image of Nate standing just the other side of the gate.

  “Keep your mouth shut, Lila,” he says before it slams.

  Closing my eyes, I release the breath that has my lungs screaming.

  “Lila?”

  Lifting my head, I find Tiff standing in the hallway, her fingers knotting in the bottom of her over-sized t-shirt.

  “Don’t worry, Tiff, it’s fine.”

  She nods but chews her bottom lip. “Look, if you need a solicitor, my family has a really good one.”

  I smile. “That’s kind. Thank you. But it’s fine. It was just a mix-up.”

  She frowns. “Lila, you’ve been at the station for over two hours. You don’t have to lie to me.”

  On a sigh, I give her a variation of the truth. “They know that Nate deals,” I say. It’s not new information to her. Most party people around campus know that Nate deals, just not that I helped him. “They thought that I was still his girlfriend, and now they want me to flip on him.”

  She shakes her head, her blonde hair falling around her face. “What did you tell them?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “That I didn’t know anything.”

  “But, everyone knows that Nate deals…”

  “I want nothing to do with any of it, Tiff.”

  “But you know he probably gave Izzy those drugs…”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What do you think he’ll do to me if I talk?” I lower my hand, and our eyes meet. “He’s a drug dealer, Tiff. He’s not a good guy.”

  Her face crumples, sympathy crossing over her features. “You do know how to pick them.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

  “At least Judas seems nice.” She smiles. “I mean, he’s a priest. You couldn’t really get any more different.” Of course, you meet a guy one time, wearing a dog collar and he must be golden.

  A small laugh slips from my lips. “Yep. He’s a keeper.” Shoving away from the door, I move past her.

  “Well, you know where I am if you need me,” she calls after me.

  “Thanks.” Tiff is a nice girl. I guess at one point I was a nice girl, or at least I tried to be, but now I can barely remember that time. Honestly, I think I’ve always been a little tainted, and with each terrible bad-boy boyfriend, I got progressively worse. Until Nate. I never even knew how bad he was until I was a few months in, and by that point, Nate had become like a drug of sorts. A progressive rush. Each step I took with him was like moving onto something harder until I was finally at that destructive point of no return. Rock bottom. Dealing drugs, living for the rush, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe I’d get caught. Picturing the look on my father’s face when he realised just how far his perfect daughter had fallen. There was a certain satisfaction in it.

  I chose Nate because he was bad. And then there’s Judas, who was never a choice. He found me at rock bottom and instead of picking me up, he whispered for me to delve a little deeper, to embrace the squalor of my damned soul.

  I’m no longer the naïve girl wrapped up in her guilt, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’ve only just found myself. I don’t want to lose it all.

  Collapsing on my bed, I let out a long breath and close my eyes, trying to block everything out.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen, seeing a text from Judas. Just the thought of him chases the panic away a little, and I pick up my phone, reading the message.

  Judas: I’ve been having carnal thoughts about you all day.

  I smile and type out a response.

  Me: I miss you, too.

  Judas: Are you okay?

  I start typing out a response, then stop. Then start again. On the fourth time of me deleting the message, attempting to construct a cheerful lie, my phone rings. His name flashes across the screen, and I answer it.

  “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, and I can picture the way his brows will be pulled tightly together, the small line in his forehead marring the perfect, ethereal planes of his face.

  “Nothing.” I rub a hand over my face. I don’t want to see
him because I need to stand alone on this, but then the thought hits me: I might go to prison. There’s nothing like an impending axe hanging over your head to make you feel like life is short. “Where are you?”

  “At the church.”

  “I’ll come and see you.” I hang up the phone before he can answer.

  The walk over to the church isn’t as quiet as usual. It’s the middle of the afternoon and London is buzzing with its usual obnoxious traffic. People hurry past me, walking to their next meeting, or rushing to get home early.

  As I cross the park, I see the teenagers playing football, shouting loudly and heckling each other, skidding on the grass in their school uniforms. And yet, when I reach the church and cross the threshold, the same calming peace washes over me. It never changes. Sometimes there may be worshippers in here, people praying and lighting candles. Other times I can be utterly alone, but it’s always serene. Silent.

  Today, no one is here, but I know that Judas will be in the confessional. The curtain on the other side is open. With muted steps, I approach the booth and tug the curtain closed, before going to the side the priest sits in. I expect to find him sitting there, but instead, he’s standing, his back braced to the partition and a sexy smile pulling at his lips.

  “Really?” he says.

  “Really.” Stepping inside, I tug the curtain closed. Instantly, the air in the confined space becomes thick. Reaching out, he trails one finger over the side of my neck and down my chest to the top of my cleavage.

  I close the distance between us, pushing up on my tiptoes to place my lips to his. This right here is my peace. He’s like coming home. His fingers wind around my waist, and he lifts me off my feet, turning us so he can slam me up against the partition. The entire confessional trembles under the force of it, and I squeeze my thighs around his hips.

  “Did you come to confess, sweet Delilah?” he breathes against my mouth.

  “I came to rid you of those carnal thoughts,” I gasp, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

  “Hmm. Well, you aren’t helping.”

  My fingers slide into his hair, tugging him closer to my throat. “I’m turning thought into reality.”

  The heat of his palms meets the back of my thighs, sliding up until he’s cupping my arse in both hands. “You going to fuck me in the confessional, little lamb?” he asks, nipping just below my ear.

  “I am but your humble servant.”

  “Such a filthy little sinner.”

  Dropping me to my feet, he shoves the skirt of my dress up and hooks his fingers into the lace of my underwear. Gathering the material at my hips, he yanks, shredding them. Excitement races through my veins, and the anticipation has my heart thrumming like a stampede of wild horses. Here, in this place, this feels so wrong, and I love it. I fumble for his belt, yanking the leather open and reaching for the button on his trousers. Fingers wind through my hair again, but this time he uses his grip to turn me around, shoving my chest up against the divider. Oh god, if anyone walks into the other side of the confessional, they’ll know exactly what we’re doing. It shouldn’t turn me on this much, but I think I love the idea of desecrating sacred ground every bit as much as I love Judas defiling me. I want a witness to our depravity. Two bad souls who shouldn’t be in the house of the Lord, soiling it. Judas kicks my legs apart and trails his fingers up the inside of my thigh. I can hardly breathe by the time he reaches the top.

  “Judas,” I beg. A small laugh slips from him, and he places a feather-light kiss to the nape of my neck.

  “Patience.” Then he slams two fingers inside me so hard that I’m forced onto my tiptoes inside my boots. My palm smacks against the partition, seeking some kind of grip. He groans against my ear, and I twist my head against his brutal hold of my hair, his lips slam over mine, and I swallow the feral sound. “So fucking wet, Delilah,” he hisses against my lips, pushing into me even harder.

  One second I’m against the wall with the full weight of Judas at my back, the next he’s gone, but he wrenches me back by my hair. I take steps backwards until my legs bump against his knees, and I realise that he’s sitting on the pew.

  He forces me to straddle his thighs, my back to his chest. Oh god, we’re really doing this. He’s going to fuck me in a confessional.

  He softens his grip on my hair and guides me over him. “Judas,” I moan because he feels so good, so right — so wrong.

  He thumps his head back against the wood behind him and a low groan slips from his lips. “Fuck, Delilah.”

  He releases his hold and moves both hands to my hips. He doesn’t lift me, simply rolls my body over him, and it’s like he’s pumping pure electricity over every inch of my skin. My spine bows, my head goes back, and a string of noises slip from my lips. He wraps a hand around my mouth and plasters me to his chest.

  “Quiet,” he breathes against my ear.

  It’s dirty and sordid, sinful in every way, and I want it. I’d say a thousand Hail Mary’s for this, for him. He makes me feel owned and yet cherished, tarnished and yet born anew. In his arms, I’m lost and found all at once. The pieces of me that were once broken are now simply his.

  Everything builds within me like this pressure just begging to be released. Judas manipulates every movement until I’m desperate for something only he can give me.

  He holds me on a cliff edge for what feels like forever, and then his grip on my hip tightens until he’s buried inside me so deep that I’m not sure where he ends and I begin. And I want it. I want him in me, a part of me. I want the lines to blur so much that we’re one and the same: the priest and his worshipper. I want to pray at his fucked up altar.

  I fall apart, muscles tensing as pleasure rips through them. Stars dot my vision, and my head spins. I cry out, into the palm of Judas’s hand, and he holds me through it, letting me ride it out.

  “Fuck, Delilah.” Releasing my mouth, he shoves me forward roughly, using me like his own personal doll. All I can hear is his laboured breaths, my racing pulse, and the creaking of old wood that’s never played witness to this kind of abuse.

  “Fuck!” Judas’s movements become stiff and jilted before he stills, a guttural growl tearing from him.

  For a moment neither of us moves. My head hangs forward spilling long hair between Judas’s parted knees in front of me. His palms smooth over my arse and down my thighs. Our too-loud breaths blend, sounding like the epicentre of a thunderstorm in the quiet of the church. If anyone is here, there’s no way they didn’t hear that.

  When my legs have stopped trembling, I stand and bend down, grabbing my handbag. I take a tissue out, but Judas pushes to his feet and steals it from me. Nudging me back against the partition again, he kisses me long and slow, his hand dipping between my legs and wiping his come from the inside of my thighs. My cheeks heat, but my heart skips happily at the tenderness of the gesture. Then he pulls away and hands the tissue back to me.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  He smirks. “Keepsake?”

  “You’re gross.”

  He laughs and kisses me once more before fastening his trousers and yanking back the confessional curtain. I press myself back against the pew, trying to hide, just in case there’s someone out there. “Come on,” he says, offering me his hand. I toss the tissue under the pew, smirking to myself because I’m pretty sure he’ll have to clean that up later. The great Judas Kingsley, hot, richer-than-sin crime lord, picking up grotty come-covered tissues from the confessional.

  Judas leads me back to the office, and I hop up on his desk, waiting while he puts some cash in the safe.

  “You haven’t told me what’s wrong,” he says.

  “Because I had so much chance?”

  Cocking a brow, he tugs at the dog collar at his throat. “I believe it was you who accosted me in the confessional.” His lips quirk. “So determined to sin, Delilah.”

  I duck my head. “I got arrested.”

  I feel the change in the air. Flirty and f
un Judas disappears, and without even looking, I know I now have bad Judas. The guy who has the ability to scare me, even though I know he would never hurt me.

  “What?” His voice is like ice being scraped from a windscreen on a January morning.

  I lift my gaze. “They know.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me this on the phone? You thought we should fuck first?”

  “Fuck you, Judas!”

  “Do they have proof? No, you’d still be there if they did,” he muses, answering his own question.

  “He wanted me to flip on Nate.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I don’t know anything. I’m not stupid! I know his bosses will come after me. But Nate knows they questioned me.” Oh god, now he looks mad.

  “He called you?” I can hear the barely restrained fury, and I shift on the desk, wishing I could back up without drawing attention to the movement.

  “He came to my house.” He turns away from me, and I watch the muscles in his back roll and flex through the material of his shirt. “I think he was just driving his threat home.”

  “The boy has very little regard for his life.”

  “He said something…”

  “What?” He twists his head towards me.

  “Nate’s mad that we’re together. He was trying to get to me, and he said, ‘I guess it takes more than a couple of dead kids to keep a Kingsley down’.” I shake my head, watching his eyes narrow. “It could be nothing, but the way he said it... It was like he was annoyed that Fire was open again. But he deals at Fire. It was his main source of business before it closed. Why would he want it to stay closed?”

  “Did he touch you?” I shake my head, and he comes closer, his eyes searching mine.