by L. J. Woods
“Good.” My hand comes to her thigh. “Now, let’s find out what Dean McQueen is hiding.”
Twenty-Eight
Delilah
Am I an idiot?
Should I really be holding Gabe’s hand while we slip into the school? Especially after he threw me out his window?
Gabe could be part of the drama at Saint Angels. The deaths. The videos. And that’s fucking scary. Twisted. More twisted than fucking your brother’s best friend.
Or am I telling myself that because I’m afraid of dealing with the reality that Gabriel Godfrey’s into me? Like, calling me his girl into me?
Am I betraying Elijah? Not if these feelings are more than toe-curling lust.
Am I betraying myself?
Maybe.
“Straight to his office,” Gabe says, hustling down the quiet hall. “No one can see us. He’s at the festival but we should still make it quick.”
The school looks a lot less intimidating when it’s empty. No students gawking at me. No teachers reprimanding my outfit and no idiots tell me what a heathen I am along with my mother. Right now, I own these halls with him. What’s better? We’re about to fucking own Dean McQueen.
When we get to the Dean’s door, he uses a key and I have to ask, “Why do you have a key?”
“‘Cause I’m a god here,” he answers like it’s no biggie.
“Yeah ‘cause that doesn’t look suspicious.” Following him inside, he slips behind McQueen’s shiny wooden desk.
“You’re dead set on pinning me as this playboy murderer?” His hands slam on the dark wood. “Fucking me scares you that much?”
“Yeah!” My arms slap against my thighs. “It should scare you too!”
“Well, it does. Now, what do you think the password is?”
I shrug, “I dunno. Delilah’s tits?”
His jaw works. “Not if he wants me to smash his computer. Then we’d have no evidence.”
“Does that make you angry?” I tease, sauntering towards him. “Does Dean McQueen looking at these tits make you all riled up?” Lifting my shirt, I give him a show and he stops moving his fingers on the keyboard. Sitting back, he watches as I sway from side to side to the music in my head. TLC’s “Creep,” in case you’re wondering. His eyes follow my curves, my hands lifting my hair when I pull them up to my sides. I meant to be silly but the way he’s watching me tells me it’s more erotic than I feel.
“I’d be fucking livid.” His growl rips through me.
So I lean into it, my clit already pulsing with desire. “How mad would you be if he jerked his little wiener dick to the sight of my tits?” Grabbing a hold of them in my hand, I’m starting to feel that craving again. A craving for Gabe. It’s weird. It’s twisted but being alone in a room with him pulls our bodies together like magnets. “What would you do?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.” He crooks a finger.
I know we’re supposed to be like, super sleuths or something, but I can’t deny this feeling. This pull. Like an animal, I crawl up on the table before he stands, pushing me back, spreading my thighs. He brings me closer to his lips with a pull of my chin. “So mad that I don’t wanna hear his name out those pretty little lips again.” Sticking his thumb inside my mouth, he pushes it in while his eyes wander my face. “That’s not funny, Dee. You wanna rile me up? You have.”
With a tug on my shorts, he exposes me to him. No time for underwear this morning. He gets a clear path to my folds and that makes him groan before he pushes two fingers inside me. A burst of fire ignites in my core, a tightness in my stomach when I moan, “What’re you gonna do about it, Godfrey?” Hands pressed against the table, I’m dripping right on McQueen’s wood.
“You wet for me, Delilah?” he groans. His cock presses against his slacks as he starts to pump his fingers. “Only me?”
“Only you, Godfrey,” I sigh, pleasure rolling through me from head to toe with the way he works his fingers. “And it drives me fucking insane.”
With that, he replaces them with the tip of his cock. “What do you want, Dee?” He brings his mouth to my ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” When I edge closer to the end of the table, his hand slides up my throat, keeping me in place. “I want you, Gabe.”
“Don’t doubt me, Dee,” he groans, pushing the head of his cock inside me, teasing me at my entrance and my craving grows. “The only thing you need to have faith for in this town is me.” With a hand on my ass, one around my throat, he thrusts into me, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you remember that.” He thrusts, more riled up than I thought. “No one fucks you like I do. No one knows this body like I do.”
The room blurs while he makes me forget just where the fuck I am. “God, yes!”
“No one else is your god,” He pushes a finger in my mouth and the look on his face is the same when he’s rolling on ecstasy. And I’m that ecstasy. He moves his hips faster. Harder. My head falls back as he hits that spot, over and over again. This must be how the other folks in this town feel when they feel the ‘spirit’. When they feel God in every inch of them.
If this is how that feels, then I want this god all the time.
“Dammit Dee.” My back hits the wood of the desk, his mouth coming to my nipples as he drills me like he’s trying to find the depths of my soul. “Nothing feels as good as you. Nothing.” Feeling his entire body on me, the ceiling looks like it’s breaking apart, my body tensing, my pussy tightening around him. “You gonna come?” His hand comes to my face, his wet fingers trailing my jaw as he runs his tongue across my lips. Every touch he gives me is electrifying and when he groans in my ear, “Come for me. Come on your god’s cock.” It’s all I need to see Jesus Christ himself.
I’m a sputtering mess when he comes too, his cock twitching and throbbing inside me like I own him as much as he owns me.
“If I knew you’d fuck me this good,” I pant. “I’d get you jealous all the time.”
“Shut up, Delilah,” he groans, pressing his lips to mine again.
“‘Kay, Dad.”
A voice comes from the hallway, my eyes widening at Gabe.
“I’ll grab them and see you there.”
Mariam?
“Fuuuck,” Gabe pulls out before he hustles his pants up his strong, thick legs. “Get dressed. Now.”
Cocks. We’re both on a thin line. Hopping off the desk, I pull up my shorts, top falling over my rack as Gabe tries to wipe off the sweat on the desk with the sleeve of his sweater.
Something tingles inside me and it’s not the trailing orgasm. But every time Dean McQueen looks at his desk, he’ll have no idea my ass was against it while the hockey captain railed me senseless.
“C’mon Dee,” Gabe calls, breaking my daze. He’s already at the door. “We’ll find another way.” Taking his hand, we get out of the office, just as Mariam approaches. She stops in her path, eyeing us both before eying our hair.
“‘Sup Mariam,” Gabriel greets.
My shoulders fall as I give him a look. He’s trying to be casual but that’s a lame-ass attempt.
“‘Sup Gabriel …” she mocks. Her eyes move between us like she’s trying to solve an equation. “What are you guys doing?”
“Getting some stuff for the festival,” Gabe says. “What’s it to you, McQueen?”
Her eyes narrow. “Then where are they?”
Fuck it. I sigh, “Your dad is the one sending those videos.”
“Christ, Dee.” Gabe’s hands fly in the air like I’m the one fucking up.
“What?” I ask. “I thought we were all about honesty at Saint Angels.”
“You’re wrong!” Mariam brushes imaginary dirt off her hear-patterned dress, straightening her powder-pink sweater. “You’re both wrong.”
Of course, she’s in denial. No one wants to hear their dad’s a weirdo.
Putting my hand on her shoulder, I try to level with her. She moves her eyes towards it. “I know th
is is hard to hear, but your dad’s a fucking pedo.”
“Jesus, Dee.”
“Why would he send videos of himself?” Mariam asks, her voice more calm and level than I imagined it would be.
I shrug, “I dunno. Pedos are weird. I guess we’ll have to ask.” I turn to Gabe. “I say we tell him what we know. Scooby-Doo style. They always panic and do something stupid and McQueen doesn’t strike me as street smart.”
Mariam rolls her eyes, huffing. She leans in. “Listen, my dad’s not the one sending the videos. I’m sure of it. But, I know something that might help you guys figure out who if you’re playing Nancy Drew … Hardy Boys. Riverdale. Whatever.”
“Carmen Sandiego.” Gabe looks at me again when I join in. “What?”
Mariam squeezes between us, moving to her dad’s office door and I hope it doesn’t reak of sex. “Just, wait for me after the festival.” She eyes my outfit. “And you might wanna change.”
I don’t change but now that we’re here, I see why.
This Christian Festival is like the Godfrey bookstore on steroids.
At least the wide-open Clementine air means the stuffiness of it all won’t kill me.
A woman scoffs as she makes her way inside, Gabe and I standing at the entrance with a couple of boxes in our arms. While the guests here aren’t all in turtlenecks and peasant skirts, I’m the only one in short-shorts. I groan, “Let’s go find the school booth and get this shit over with.” I wanted to bail and I was this close to doing it until Mariam gave me an offer I can’t refuse. If Dean McQueen didn’t give out my photo or those videos then who the fuck did? And why is Mariam so sure?
“Gabriel.” That voice that sends needles through my body comes from behind us. When I turn around, Penelope Godfrey stands at the entrance in a red dress and heels like she’s out for fucking dinner. “Delilah.”
“Penny.” I raise a brow.
Her eyes fall to my chest before she gasps, red nails coming to her chest. “Are you braless?”
“Yup.” I’m so tempted to shimmy my tits but she might have a heart attack.
“Well, if you’re here, with my Gabriel, you may as well make yourself handy and bring these to the booth.” She props another box on my arms and I wobble under the weight.
“Actually, Mom,” Gabe speaks up. “We’re on school duty today. Volunteers.”
Dropping the boxes right to the ground gets Penny to actually acknowledge me. “You’d know, if your head wasn’t so far up your a— ” Gabe tugs me along, cutting off my words as we move deeper into the festival.
And man, this place is fucking intense.
Think of Coachella.
You know, the big colourful displays, the hordes of people in crazy festival attire. Now, imagine Coachella was overrun by a bunch of Jesus enthusiasts. Then, add the circus.
“Welcome to the Freedom Festival,” Gabe does a twirl, his hands out wide as someone high-fives him as they pass by. It smells like popcorn and sweat combined with the musty odour from the lake. “Biggest Christian festival in the nation.”
Hot air balloons float in the air above the water, one with the Jesus fish, another with a cross. Christian Rock blares from one of the stages as we push through the crowd. Fire breathers pass us on stilts and I can spot a few inflatable bounce houses in the distance. I can only imagine the fun Gabe would have on drugs in here. Passing a “No drugs, No alcohol, No problems” sign, the crowd thins out as we make our way towards the booths along the side.
“I didn’t expect it to be so big!” I say, looking around.
Gabe chuckles. “I get that a lot.”
My elbow nudges him as we pass an old lady in a booth filled with mini Marys. She does the sign of the cross when her eyes fall to my ass.
“Intimidated?” Gabe asks, taking my hand, pulling me towards a whistling Coach.
“Not in the least,” I say, his hand warm in mine, the tip of his tattoo peeking out of his shirt. “Let’s go do our time.”
We get to the booth with the SAA logo, all glittered up like it’s something from heaven when we all know it’s hell. “Volunteers! Welcome!” Coach claps as we push our way into the booth, more gospel music blaring out of a speaker. He pulls a jersey over my head before I meet his smiling face with a glare. “Much better.” He hands me some pamphlets. “If you want to represent the school, do it right.”
When he turns around I mimic him and Gabe slaps my ass as he moves around the booth. Handing out pamphlets for a school I don’t even like is not how I want to be spending my Saturday.
“Delilah! Gabriel!” When I turn towards the call of my name, Hazel’s running up to us in a beige dress and a chunky white sweater. There’s a heaviness in my chest as she approaches, remembering our last conversation. “Thank God!”
She reaches her arm out to me and that weight lifts, my arms wrapping around her skinny body. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I say, my mouth muffled in her soft knit sweater.
“No, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”
“What truth?” Letting go, I glance at Gabe who looks as confused as I do. “Gabe said you guys didn’t—”
“We didn’t. Ew, no.” She shakes her head.
“Thanks?” Gabe pipes up.
“No, you’re super hot, but Delilah’s crazy about you and I’m not that girl.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, holding out my hands. Glancing at Gabe, he has a smirk on his face and I smack his arm. “I wouldn’t say crazy.”
She cuts in again. “But I’ve also been hiding something from you.”
“Word?” My eyes narrow. She looks worried, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater. “And what’s that?”
Looking around her, she leans into us, the noise of the festival way too loud for anyone else to hear. Still, she whispers, “I’m sleeping with Pastor Godfrey.”
Twenty-Nine
Delilah
“Holy Mother of Mary.”
The pamphlets drop from my hand as a grip comes to my wrist. Gabe’s. Hazel’s body jolts forward, Gabe dragging us both through the crowd and back to the booth.
I’m looking around for Pastor Godfrey, the events rolling through my head. The phone calls. The rosary. The extra-curricular get-togethers.
Did he sleep with the other girls too?
The booth is empty when we get back. No one’s in front of it or around it, a “Be Right Back” sign on the table. Coach must be out working the festival with some pamphlets. Gabe turns up the radio, our school choir belting a hymn. “This better not be a fucking joke.” His nostrils flare, eyes darkening.
She reaches into her pocket, pulling out her necklace. “The reason you found this outside Gabe’s house is because I left Gabe’s house a few mornings earlier. I didn’t mean to stay but things got out of hand and before I knew it, I was climbing out of a window half-naked.”
Whipping my head to Gabe, my eyes narrow. “Seems the Godfreys have something in common.”
“I’m not like him.”
“Heading that way though, aren’t ya?” Crossing my arms, the scenes play through my head again. “Did you know?”
“The fuck?” His grip on my wrist tightens before I try to pull away. He doesn’t let me. “You really fucking think that, Dee?”
“Shoot! I gotta go,” Hazel says, looking behind her. Pastor Godfrey stands next to Penelope, both their arms crossed as they look over at the three of us in the booth. Penelope whispers something to her husband but I can’t quite read her lips. “I’ll find you after the festival. Please don’t say anything. Not yet.”
“Wait! What do you mean?” I ask as Hazel scurries away, her hands on her arms and she could use a joint as badly as I do right now. When I turn back to Gabe, he looks the same, his brows furrowed, wheels turning in his head.
“Well?” I ask.
“What?” He doesn’t look at me, eyes on his father. I pull from his grip but he tightens it like he’s taking out all the shock on my body.
“For one,” I t
ug my hand away. “You’re hurting me. And two, what the fuck are we gonna do?”
With a glance at the red mark on my wrist, he rubs at his chin. “Nothing.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. Your dad is sleeping with a minor! She’s seventeen! Wait,” I pause, pushing a hand through the front of my hair as I glance over. “Do you think—”
“We can’t talk about this now.” Gabe cuts me off, Coach approaching us with empty hands and a big smile on his face. He moves behind me, his voice landing in my ear, “Don’t. Say. Anything.”
For fuck’s sake.
“There you are!” Coach says. “I’ll be doing another round but Gabe.” Coach points his whistle at him. “There’s a scout here. Be on your best behaviour.” His eyes drop to me when he says this as if I’m the one that’s gonna ruin this place before Pastor Godfrey does.
Coach walks away and before I can say anything, Gabe spins us around, bringing his finger to his lips. “Can you keep it quiet? I need this, Dee.” And with that, he drops to his knees. Backing up under the table, he disappears behind the cloth.
“Gabe?” My eyes on festival-goers, I hope he hears me, a glance under the table. “What’re you doing?”
His hands emerge, gripping my ass, pressing me forward. My eyes widen the other hand moving inside my shorts. His fingers part my folds and now I can’t fucking move. They’re cold on my warmth, a shiver running up my back. My hands grip the edge of the table when he pushes his finger inside and it’s hard for me to stop him, the way he swirls them over my clit.
Shiit. I try to pull back because we’re in a fucking booth but … is it bad that I want this right now? Even after the bombshell Hazel dropped? I know he’s using me to fix his craving but Gabe has the right idea. We should approach this with a calm head. And an orgasm is what I need to calm my ass down.