Redeemed

by Maggie Blackbird

  “Yes.” She pressed her lips together. “I should’ve gone before. I think it’s time I got to know the program better and the people who attend. Are there open meetings in the city? I doubt we’ll be here at the end of the month.”

  “Yep.” Adam’s breath kept jumping. She was committing to him. To them. “You’ll need to get a sitter.”

  “A sitter’s fine. I’ll ask Ginny.”

  “Kwe...” Adam leaned in. She did love him. She must. His heart begged for her to say those three words. Would she finally tell him tonight?

  This time he’d make sure they had a place to be together. Bridget didn’t deserve the outside, although she hadn’t seemed to mind being on the trail last evening. Still, a bed would be a wonderful place where she could lie in his arms afterwards.

  Chapter Twenty-six: Sex and Outrage

  To avoid suspicion, Adam had gotten them the room. At least the owner had been awake, having not turned in yet at the small home beside the eight-room, log motel where the old couple lived.

  Adam opened the door to a double bed, TV, dresser, and stuffed chair. “Kwe...” he said, trying to whisper loud enough for her to hear.

  From behind a pine tree, Bridget appeared. Glancing around, she darted across the gravel. The light from above cast her in full view. She scooted passed him and into the room.

  Adam closed the door.

  She gazed around. “I’ve been coming up here forever, but I’ve never been inside one of the motel rooms before. It’s nice. Cozy. It’d be kind of neat to own this place.”

  “That makes two of us. Guess I should’ve bunked here instead of at your brother’s.”

  “Oh, Emery would’ve insisted you stay at his home. They try to make the workshops as affordable as possible, the reason why they billet participants and trainers.”

  Adam flicked on a small lamp beside the bed. The shadows from the dim lighting played across Bridget’s features that resembled her mother’s fine bone structure.

  “I’m glad you never did what most women do...” He ran his finger along Bridget’s dark eyebrow. These slightly thick babies came straight from the deacon.

  “Reshape them?” Bridget giggled. “I wax the strays. Nothing more.”

  He cupped her face. She searched his eyes. “I don’t want you to be too tired tomorrow. It’s already late.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She tilted her head and snuggled his waist.

  It was late and time to get down to business. Both had a busy day tomorrow. He tasted her mouth. Bridget’s self-assurance, independence, take-it-or-leave-it nonchalant attitude always made him itch to conquer her sexually, and in the past, she’d always let him.

  As Adam slipped his tongue between Bridget’s lips, hers was already waiting to claim his. He skimmed her jean shorts until he found the button. Her chest heaved, and she groaned into his mouth.

  He’d bet Bridget’s pussy was already wet and her clit needing a nice rubbing. Damned straight he’d more than give her cunt what it wanted. He undid her shorts, which drew another moan from Bridget. She melted their crotches together.

  He worked the shorts lower. The heat from Bridget’s exposed skin was hot enough to warm his cock. Nothing drove him crazier than knowing she desired him.

  “Oh yeah.” Adam grunted. “You want me to play with your clitty, don’t you?” He traced Bridget’s bare ass, copping a nice feel while she persistently ground her hips, as if trying to fuck his dick with her snatch.

  “That’s it...” He licked her neck. “I’m eating some pussy.”

  “Oh, Adam...” Bridget groaned.

  She yanked on his zipper and tugged. His prick sprang from the underwear. Boy, he’d have to make this fast because his hard-on ached to get inside Bridget.

  He eased her onto the bed. She laid back, gazing at him through the fringe of her lush lashes. He removed her shorts and skimpy panties—his fave kind, silk and barely providing coverage of her pubes. When Bridget spread her slim thighs in offering to him, the tip of his dick throbbed. What an offer she was presenting.

  Adam rested on his elbows and ran his hands along her thighs, taking in the musky essence of ripe cunt buried beneath clothing all day.

  He kissed the sultry hairs and sucked her fragrance deep into his lungs. “Y’know how bad I wanted you to mail me your underwear when I was in the pen? I would’ve given anything to smell your panties before I went to sleep each night. Damn, you always smell good.”

  “Please...” Her voice was begging.

  Bridget wound her legs around Adam’s neck, guiding him to her pussy lips.

  He kissed the coarse hairs that carried the scent of musk. Each peck he bestowed on her pussy lips elicited a hunger inside him. Bridget squirmed beneath his light puckers and then raised her hips, silently urging him to feast.

  He eased his tongue between the soft flesh, tracing the sensitive folds around her clit. She jerked slightly, panting, and laid her feet on his back. He positioned his palms on her spread thighs, making sure she couldn’t squirm along the mattress, because he wasn’t going to stop eating until he was good and done.

  Her sweet scent assailed his nostrils. He drew in the steamy aroma while moving his tongue in a circular motion around Bridget’s tiny, hard flesh. Her wet mess invaded his mouth. He slipped a finger into her snatch and the other finger into Bridget’s asshole. Her flesh clenched tight enough that Adam could barely thrust while continuing to bathe her clit with slow licks.

  Bridget ground her pussy along his face, silently urging him to lick faster.

  Her excitement was his excitement. The ache in his cock was unbearable. Finger-fucking Bridget’s cunt and asshole was taunting the jizz in his balls.

  He trailed his tongue to the sexy layer of skin between Bridget’s asshole and pussy. After kissing this sensitive spot, he laid his tongue on the crack of her buttocks and washed this area with saliva. Then he trailed her cleft and flicked at her asshole.

  “Adam... Adam...” Bridget panted and gasped.

  There was nothing he liked better than watching his beloved kwe lose herself to his touch. Bridget’s tits bounced, nipples erect for his touch. Her flat stomach muscles strained from the tension her body was experiencing.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please. Please.”

  “Mmm... you taste good, woman.” He kept stealing peeks at her flushed face, gasping mouth, and pleasure making her smile while he drew a spittle path to her pussy.

  Her cunt lips were slightly parted. Her clit engorged with excitement. He pecked this spot, and Bridget shuddered. She slapped her palms against the back of his head and seared her cunt against his lips. His tongue was nested between her slit, and he wiggled it. She moaned, and he lapped up her wet mess while she bounced her beautiful ass in rhythm with his licks, holding tight to her

  When her squeals invaded the room, she wrapped him in sheer pleasure. His dick ached beyond control. He had to mount her, fuck her good, because her continued groans and pants were enough to drive him insane. He rested his palms on the bedspread for leverage and kicked his jeans to his ankles. Although he always let Bridget have time to savor coming, her silky moans didn’t allow Adam that luxury.

  With his hands bracing the mattress, he eased into her wet opening. The tip invaded Bridgett’s pussy that she clenched, and the heat coating Adam’s back thickened to heavy steam strong enough to drench him in a fever that teetered on bursting.

  Bridget locked her legs around Adam’s hips, trapping him. He yanked her to his chest. His weight crushed her nipples.

  He rode Bridget hard and fast, his erection trembling and spasming. Only she could bring him to that special place. Only she could drive him completely wild.

  Sheer pleasure swathed Adam. He panted and grunted, still plunging deep inside her. Then the shattering excitement gripped him. He did what he always loved doing—gave Bridget every inch of his heart.

  * * * *

  Snuggled under the covers, Bridget rested on Adam’s chest. The
lullaby of his heartbeat was a song ready to put her to sleep. “I don’t want to get up,” she murmured. Her breaths dusted his nipple.

  “Neither do I, kwe.” Adam’s warm lips brushed the top of her head. “I wanna reload and fuck you all over again.”

  She giggled and snaked her legs around his strong calves. Her breasts brushed his hard pecs. His body was warm and strong, but also pure satin, an invitation to drape herself in his.

  “There’s an alarm clock. What time are you usually at the church?”

  “Seven. We’re making blueberry oatmeal, ham, and toast for breakfast. Jenny already made the muffins for the break.” Bridget pecked his cheek.

  “What time do your parents get up?”

  “Dad’s an early bird. Five. He says his Lauds then.”

  “Lauds?”

  “Morning prayers. He prays the Office of Hours. There’re different times of the day he has to pray.”

  After sex, cuddling was the best. Their words were soft whispers, voices a little scratchy.

  “I guess he has no choice but to get up that early.”

  “Not really. Father Bennie isn’t an early bird.”

  “Your dad would be.” Adam grunted. “I guess we can’t spend the night here. We’d have to leave at four-thirty. You need your sleep.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Quarter after twelve.”

  “Let’s stay here a wee bit longer. I’m not ready to go home.” She remained curled around Adam’s muscular body.

  Never mind her fears. Emery would tell Bridget to have faith. She needed the Big Guy more than ever. The Exposition of Christ was set out daily for the Catholic participants to utilize during the workshop.

  She’d give anything to possess half of her brother’s faith. Emery had fought hard for the new life he had now. Where did this leave Bridget? Her life sure didn’t mirror Jude’s wrapped-in-a-bow Catholic existence.

  “Kwe, what’s crawled up your beautiful ass? You’re stiffer than a prison shank.” Adam rubbed her arm.

  Bridget couldn’t confess the truth. She’d hurt him.

  His deep breaths eased away the panic settling in her throat. If only they could stay here forever. All they needed was Kyle. Up on the reserve, hidden in a motel room, real life didn’t interfere. Real life wasn’t present to drive Adam back to drinking.

  “Kwe, wake up. Wake up. We fell asleep.”

  Bridget had been dreaming. They’d been on her favorite island, the one with the beach where Randy used to take her. She’d been swimming with Kyle while Adam grilled steaks over a campfire.

  “What time is it?” If Mom and Dad noticed she was missing, a fight would ensue.

  “Six.”

  “Six?” Bridget gasped. She scooted off the bed and flung open the curtains, which wasn’t a good idea because a man was smoking at one of the picnic tables, under sunlight. Yes, the sun. Dad was awake. So was Mom. Bridget was supposed to be showering before leaving for the church.

  Even worse, she’d left her phone in Emery’s old bedroom. Not good. Not good. She stamped her feet.

  “We gotta go. I don’t have my phone. I always have my phone. What if Kyle—”

  “Easy. Jude has him. Kyle’s fine. If anything happened, I think Emery would’ve figured out where you were since I didn’t go back to his place last night.” Adam came up behind Bridget. His strong arms encircled her waist.

  “Emery.” Bridget smacked her forehead. Just great. He’d also know what had happened. “We’d better go. You still have to shower and dress for the workshop.”

  When she whipped about, her breasts bounced against Adam’s chest. They were naked. They’d slept together all night. As she looked up and into his soft, dark eyes, the scent of their union lingered on his breath and skin.

  She buried herself in his hard muscles. Why did he have to have so many demons to fight? Adam was the perfect man, the perfect man for her.

  His palm brushed her hair. “Kwe... maybe we can stay here if everyone knows.”

  The offer tugged at her insides, but she knew better. “You’re here to heal. The workshop is called Healing the Spirit. I need you to do this.”

  “You need me to?”

  “Yes. I need you to.” If humanly possible, she’d creep inside Adam, find a safe spot to hide. “I need you to. Kyle needs you to. We need you to do this... Please.” Because I love you.

  Bridget slunk up the front steps to the house. From inside, the sound of banging dishes carried from the open window. If Mom was pissed, Dad was probably hiding on the deck.

  The first time Bridget had disappointed them, she’d gotten home at two in the morning after partying with Randy and his friends. Mom had told Bridget no more visits for six months. So instead of seeing her parents at the rez, Mom and Dad had traveled to Thunder Bay.

  With a big breath, Bridget opened the door. Please don’t let there be fighting. Please.

  First, she’d shower and then sit at the breakfast table to defend herself like a bad teenager who’d done wrong. She padded down the hall to check her phone for messages. Once finished, she darted to the bathroom, undisturbed, but the banging continued in the kitchen.

  After Bridget had dressed, she padded to the kitchen. Mom stood in the dining room, readying a quick breakfast before venturing to the church. Dad wasn’t present. Great, he’d gone off somewhere to pout.

  “Is Dad here?” Bridget sat at the table and poured herself a coffee from the carafe.

  “You know why your father isn’t here...” Mom’s lips formed into a straight line. She sat. “Eat. It’ll be a long day.”

  Bridget scooped up a serving of toast and eggs. “You don’t have to be angry.”

  “Then what exactly am I supposed to feel?” Mom readied her own coffee. She stared at the carafe.

  “I’m thirty-six. I know what I’m—”

  “This isn’t only about you.” Mom’s words came out in small huffs beneath her breath. Her long fingers gripped the coffee mug. “This is about Kyle. He’s been through enough already. If you wish to welcome chaos and dysfunction into your life, by all means, go ahead, but I won’t let you subject Kyle to his behavior.”

  “His?” Bridget’s gut burned. “He has a name. He’s also Kyle’s father. Adam’s working hard to rebuild their relationship. It’s the reason why he’s here.”

  “Is he really?” Mom’s delicate shoulders sagged. “Or did he follow you here?”

  “Mom.” Bridget gasped. “How can you say that? Do you really believe I’d associate with a man that shallow? That selfish?”

  “Associate?” Mom’s face reddened. “I think you did more than associate.” She set down the mug. “Why? What about Stephen?”

  “We went on one date.” Bridget shoved the plate away. “I hardly think one date merits a relationship.”

  “Sweetie, what am I going to do with you?” Mom pressed her palms to her temples. “Why are you this way? Why do you always give your father and I grief?”

  “Grief?” Bridget was simply trying to live her own adult life. Yes—adult.

  “Why are you this way?” Mom wilted in the chair. “I’ve tried so hard to be understanding. I’ve tried so hard to explain your behavior to your father—”

  “What?” Bridget sputtered. “What behavior?”

  “How rebellious you’ve been. Honey, this has been going on since you were a teenager. A child. We tell you to do one thing, and you do another. We wish one life for you, and you find another. All we ever wanted is for you to be happy. You can’t tell me Adam makes you happy.”

  Mom was right. Bridget also wilted in the chair. Was she happy? She was happy when she could disappear with Adam, away from Mrs. Dale, away from Mom and Dad, away from the pressures of life that had sent Adam to drink.

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Living in the Past

  Not one word had come from Emery or Darryl when Adam had arrived at the cozy two-bedroom log house. They also hadn’t said anything when he’d showered and dressed
. And Emery hadn’t said anything before leaving for the church.

  Now Adam rode shotgun while Darryl drove them to the workshop, who still hadn’t said anything. He stared straight ahead at the dirt road, wearing his customary black sunglasses. Bandit stuck her snout between the two seats, resting her paws on the console.

  Adam petted the dog’s soft fur.

  Darryl cleared his throat. “I know it’s not any of my business...”

  Nope, Adam’s all-night disappearing act wasn’t anyone’s business.

  “I just don’t wanna see you go through what I went through in July.”

  “The deacon gave you a tough time?”

  “Yeah. Sure did.” Darryl turned the truck onto Church Road. “Try understand, he’s had it tough. Another residential school survivor. He’ll share his story this morning. You’ll see why he is the way he is when it comes to Em, Jude, and Bridget.”

  “She’s never been the kind of person who listens to her folks.”

  “You nailed it.” Darryl chuckled. “When she’d come up here to visit, she was always getting into trouble.”

  “She may do things that piss off her parents, but she’s a woman devoted to the church. I don’t see why this isn’t enough for them.”

  “I wish it was the same way, too.” The truck rolled up to the church where Clayton Kabatay and his family continued to protest.

  “Talked to Raven at the meeting last night. She made some good points.” Adam unbuckled his seat belt, something he’d never done until he’d met Bridget.

  “They make a lot of good points,” Darryl said. “I used to agree with them. Preserving our culture is extremely important, but we can’t disrespect or try discourage another’s beliefs, which they’re doing.”

  Darryl spoke the truth. Raven and her family were completely against the church, and completely against the Matawapit family.

  “They really hate the deacon, huh?” Adam followed Darryl to the basement door beneath the car port.