I soaped my cock, cleaning it before grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to her knees. She reached up and took hold of my hips. I ran my thumb over her lips, she parted them slightly and her tongue darted out to lick over the pad. I pressed down, prying open her jaw, while my other hand massaged my cock until the soapsuds had disappeared and I was hard again. I then fucked her mouth. Her fingers dug into my skin and she hummed as she sucked. The vibrations caused my cock to twitch and my stomach to tighten, as the desire to come quickly took over. I held her head, not letting her release me as I did. I watched my cum spill from her lips and run down her chin as I pulled my cock free.
Without allowing the water to clean me of her yet again, I opened the shower door, and holding her wrist, walked back into the bedroom and to the bed. I let her go and she fell, curling into a ball. She attempted to pull the sheet tight around her wet body. I pulled it from her.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I said.
Like a cat, she unfurled, slowly, provocatively, until she lay on her back and that challenge was back on her face. There was no emotion other than pure lust in her eyes. I wanted to slap the look from her face. At that moment, I hated her but I was going to fuck her again.
I was having an internal fight as I pulled her legs apart and, for a second time without foreplay, pushed into her. My brain was telling me to stop; my body wouldn’t let me. I felt like I had lost control. Images of Sierra flooded my mind. I was punishing the body beneath me for the murder of my wife, for the loss and anger I had harbored for nearly a year, and for the fact that I wanted to fuck. I selfishly wanted my release. It wouldn’t have mattered who it was with.
I lost track of time, my heart raced with exertion and my arms shook as I held myself above her. Sweat ran from my brow and I was thankful of that. I was thankful, because as I came so hard that my stomach ached, the sweat camouflaged the tears rolling down my cheeks.
I pushed myself from the bed and on unsteady legs grabbed my jeans and pulled them on.
“Gabriel?” she said, as she pushed herself to her elbows.
“Gabe.”
I didn’t reply. I buttoned up my jeans and walked out of the room, leaving behind the sound of her sobs.
I inhaled the smoke from my cigarette as I sat in the garden. It had been a couple of hours since I’d left Lily crying in the bedroom. I’d heard the shower run, but there had been no sign of her. I wasn’t concerned; but the guilt that wracked my body was overwhelming. Rationally, I knew I hadn’t betrayed my wife, but I sure felt like shit. And something else that I didn’t like: I felt relief. How fucking shallow was I? My wife had only been gone a few months, and all I felt was relief that I’d fucked, that I’d let out some of that sexual frustration that had been building.
I’d never fucked my wife; I had way too much respect for her to do that. We made love, sometimes it was gentle and loving, and sometimes fast and furious, but it was always with respect. I hadn’t given a shit about the person lying underneath me earlier. I hadn’t given a shit about her feelings, the fact she came wasn’t my intent. I wanted one thing only, my release.
I leaned back in my chair and raised my face to the sun, warming my body. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Lily was standing in the doorway. She had dressed in jeans and another t-shirt that looked familiar.
“Do you want a beer?” she asked with a forced cheerfulness.
“Sure, why not,” I said, a little confused.
I expected tears or anger, I didn’t expect her to play wife again.
She handed me a beer and stood, as if waiting to be invited to join me. I gestured toward the chair.
“May I?” she said, as she reached for my pack of cigarettes.
“Stop it, Lily, just fucking stop it.”
She startled, making the chair scrape against the brick patio. I sighed, feeling even more of a shit.
“I’m sorry, okay? Sure, have a cigarette, you don’t need to ask.”
I took a sip of my beer.
“What happened earlier, it can’t happen again,” I said.
She interrupted me, “Don’t tell me you regret it, please? Don’t make me feel that.”
“I didn’t regret one minute. But it’s not right for me at this time, okay?” I stumbled through my words.
It wasn’t strictly true but not a lie either. Her hands shook as she lifted her bottle to her lips. Her body said one thing, her eyes another. They held a slight sparkle. Was she fucking with my head? I began to wonder. There were just too many ‘Lilys’ for me to know which one was real anymore.
It was another sleepless night for me. I tossed and turned in the child-sized bed with my feet hanging over the edge. Lily and I had eaten a cold dinner of ham and salad, washed down with forced conversation and fake laughter. My nerves were jangling, and it wasn’t from the large black coffee I’d consumed before bed. I didn’t feel I was the same person I’d been just a week prior. Nothing felt real, yet I knew it was. I missed a call to my daughter, something I’d never done before. I’d silenced the ringing from Thomas, something I’d never done before. I did text him and tell him all was okay, but that was only from fear of him turning up and seeing the mess I’d become.
In just half a day, I’d gone from being in control to feeling like I was losing my mind.
Lily had done that. She had set the bomb off inside me. Had she done it deliberately? That was something I needed to figure out.
It must have been in the early hours of the morning that I finally drifted off to sleep, to be woken just a couple of hours later by the scrape of the door opening. I didn’t sit bolt upright that time, my body was just too exhausted for that level of activity.
“There is definitely someone outside. I swear this time. I saw them,” Lily said. She stood in the doorway in just her panties, her nipples erect and I doubted that was from a chill.
“Was it…?” I cut short the sentence, not wanting her to know there should be someone patrolling the house—the police.
I didn’t care that I climbed from the bed naked, or that her eyes trailed down my body. She took a few steps into the room and closed the door behind her.
Maybe it was my imagination, but every step she took, when she bent at the waist raising her ass in the air to pick up my jeans and hand them to me, felt seductive. I pulled them on, not making eye contact. I followed her back to my bedroom.
“Look,” she said as she walked to the window.
I walked until I was close behind her. I placed my hands on her hips with the intent of moving her; I heard her sharp intake of breath. That girl was definitely fucking with me. I shoved her to one side, too tired for her games.
“Where did you see them?” I asked, as I peered through the muslin drapes covering the window.
“Out front to start with, then they walked to the side of the house.”
“What did they look like?”
“A man, tall, dark clothing.”
“You sure it was a man?” I asked, as I scanned the road looking for one of Thomas’ deputies.
“I think so, he was fairly well built.”
“Stay here, I fucking mean it this time. And put some fucking clothes on.”
I walked back to Taylor’s bedroom and it irritated me that Lily had followed. I reached under my pillow for the gun I had taken to bed with me and knew at that point I’d made a mistake. Lily had seen me retrieve it. I’d need to find another hiding place.
I crept back to the hallway, listening for any sounds from an intruder. Like before, I kept my back close to the wall as I descended the stairs. I paused halfway when I heard the gentle rattle of the back door. Lily had been right, there was someone on the property. I heard my heart beat frantically in my chest, and a wave of adrenalin flooded over me, washing away my earlier tiredness.
I took in a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves as I continued down the stairs. It was only when I was at the bottom that I’d realized I’d left my phone beside the bed. I was too far d
own to call up to Lily, not that I wanted her to find my phone and prayed that she wouldn’t be able to work out the password if she did.
I knew the minute I rounded the bottom of the stairs, I’d be exposed if someone were looking through the back door window. I held still and continued to listen. When I thought enough time had passed, I slowly rounded the corner with my gun raised and moved as quickly, and as quietly, as I could toward the kitchen. I couldn’t see anyone; there was no noise, but I thought I saw a shadow cross the window.
I decided it was time to brazen it out. I stood tall and walked to the back door, making as much noise as I could opening it. I stepped out in the yard, holding my gun in front of me. Nothing, no one.
I walked to the front of the house and checked both ways up the street. There were cars parked, and in one I saw the subtle flash of a flame as a lighter was lit and then killed. That was Syd’s signal, asking me if all was okay. I covered my mouth as if to stifle a cough, cheesy, but effective communication. As much as Thomas accused me of watching too many crime shows, I’m sure he did the same. I meant to ask him where he’d come up with that.
I took two tours of the outside of the house; there was no evidence anyone had been there. Yet I’d heard that rattle, I’d seen that shadow. Or had I? Could it have been the wind, I didn’t actually see the handle move. Could it have been the shadow of a tree as the branches swayed in the breeze? Paranoia was setting in.
I began to doubt what I saw, heard. I closed my eyes and sighed.
“Anything?” I heard as I walked back into the kitchen.
“I thought I told you…never mind. No. Now, tell me exactly what you saw and where,” I said.
I switched the coffee machine on, thinking I wasn’t going to get any more sleep that night. I slumped into a chair and placed the gun on the table. I scrubbed my hands over my face, dragging them down my cheeks then raising my face to look at her as she sat.
“Exactly, what did you see?” I repeated.
“I saw a man, Gabriel. I know I did.”
“Hair color?”
“It was dark, I think. It certainly wasn’t blond. I think I would have been able to tell if it was blond.”
“What was he doing?”
“He just crossed the front yard. He didn’t look up at any of the windows, then walked around the side of the house.”
“As if he knew where he was going?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing at the window, Lily?”
“The wind had picked up, I was shutting it. I’d left the sash open just a fraction for some fresh air, but it was blowing the drapes.”
It was always plausible. Everything she said could be fucking true, or a shit load of lies. I didn’t know anymore. I wasn’t sure about anything. Was she a good enough actress to produce the fear on her face, the tears that rolled down her cheeks?
“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said, quietly.
“I’m tired, Lily. For months, I’ve been lucky to get just a few hours sleep a night. I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
She sucked in her lower lip and lowered her gaze before nodding slowly. She stood from her chair and looked around the room.
“I need to leave. I’m so sorry I brought all this to you.”
“Sit down, you’re not going anywhere,” I said and sighed.
She didn’t. Instead she walked toward the hallway. I rose to follow.
“Lily, stop right there.” I wasn’t up for games anymore.
Her shoulders were slumped and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was clear from her body movement that she was crying.
“I can’t do this anymore, Gabriel. I’m scared; I’m also tired. For every hour you’re awake, do you think I’m not? I lay there, night after night, wondering if it’s my last. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To know you’re next on the list to be murdered. I think about how they’ll do it. Will they stab me like they did Sierra? How much will it hurt? How much will I beg for my life, knowing those words will mean nothing? You want to know why I lied about my childhood? Because I’m sure you’re busting to know. I spent ten years being fucked by men who believed they were servants of God. They fucked every part of my body, including my mind. You want to know why? Like Sierra, I’m a Divine Child.”
She laughed, bitterly, and I was rooted to the spot.
“Ask me, Gabriel. Ask me what a Divine Child is.”
At first I couldn’t find the words. “What is a Divine Child?” My voice was hoarse.
“I’m the daughter of an angel, can you believe that shit?” Again that bitter laugh echoed around the hallway.
“I don’t believe in angels,” I said.
“Neither do I. And I doubt the pedophiles that abused me, abused Sierra, really believe that. Let me tell you about the Cult I grew up in. You see, they are some fucked up individuals. They thought my mother was angelic, as I said before, the purest mated with her. Those poor men went through hell to prove themselves worthy of her, of her body. Shall I tell you what they do? What their initiation is before they’re deemed worthy of my body? Blood has to be spilled, that blood has to drip over my body, coat my skin, claim it…”
“I don’t want to hear…” I said. My stomach recoiled at the thought.
“But you have to, Gabriel. You have to know. Only the bravest will slit their wrists in the sign of the cross, only the toughest get to mate with me. Only the worthy. And the worst part? The women, children, writhed with pleasure when that hot blood sizzled on their skin. We were conditioned to, programmed to be aroused by its metallic smell and taste.”
“Enough…” I wanted to heave. She kept talking.
“But they didn’t want sex; they didn’t want to fuck a child. No, they wanted to keep my bloodline going. I was supposed to give birth to daughters. Except it didn’t quite work out that way.”
I took a step closer to her until just an inch or so separated us. For a moment neither of us spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Yeah, that would have made for great conversation, wouldn’t it? You knew about the abuse, you knew about Sierra. I didn’t need to tell you my story. I didn’t want to relive that life, a life I had pushed so deep in my memory that, for a while, I believed it to be fantasy. It didn’t really happen. I shut it off, created a new life. And then my sister got in contact and hell returned.” She spat the word ‘sister.’
“So these people think angels exist and you're the child of one?” I asked.
“What part of what I’ve just said wasn’t clear?”
“That’s about the most fucking ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“So now you don’t believe that? What version would you like to believe? Tell me, what works in your perfect little world, with your perfect wife, your prefect child, and your perfect house? Tell me, and maybe I’ll spin a tale that suits your fragile mind.”
I grabbed hold of her and spun her around to face me. My fingers dug into her arms.
“Don’t you fucking dare bring my family into this. I’ve done all I can to help you. I want one thing, Lily, I want to find out who killed my wife. Who came into my home with my daughter inside and stabbed her five times?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been shaking her all the time I spoke.
“You can’t hurt me, Gabriel. I’m beyond that. You want the truth? I hope those fuckers hurry up and find me. I hope they put me out of my misery, sooner rather than later. You know what I’ll do? I’ll walk into the police station, I’ll tell them everything they need to know to arrest the people that fostered me, to hopefully track down that convent and bring those men of God to justice. But it won’t bring Sierra back. It won’t answer your question. Sierra’s murder will be lumped into that investigation, solved, buried, filed away, forgotten.”
I was broken, beat. My arms fell to my sides, my chin dipped to my chest and I closed my eyes. When I raised my head and looked at her, her face mirrored mine, I imag
ined. Her eyes were red, her lips puffy. Her tears rolled down her cheeks. I reached up and using my thumb, wiped under one eye. She closed the gap between us, and I wrapped my arms around her while she sobbed into my chest. I nuzzled into her neck, breathing her in, trying to absorb some of her pain.
We stood that way for a while until a wave of exhaustion rolled over me.
“We need to sleep,” I said, my words were slightly muffled by her hair.
Without another word we walked upstairs to my bedroom. I climbed onto the bed; she did the same. At first we lay side by side, until I reached my hand under her neck and pulled her close. She snuggled into my side.
I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was to comfort her, or to find some comfort myself.
“Can you keep me alive?” she whispered.
“I’m going to try.”
Lily placed her hand on my stomach, my skin goosebumped at her touch. She ran it down to the top of my open jeans. I placed my hand over hers, intending to lift it from me.
“Please, I need just one last night of thinking I have the perfect life. That’s all I ever wanted, just a taste of what Sierra had. She talked about you, about Taylor, and I fell in love with her life,” she whispered.
Was it sleep depravation? Was it lust, confusion, the need for a woman’s touch to soothe my bleeding soul? Whatever it was, I lifted my hand and let hers slip under the waistband of my jeans. My cock hardened at her touch. I placed my hands above my head and closed my eyes. I raised my hips so she could lower my jeans and my cock sprang free. I kicked the jeans off.
She wrapped her hand around it, sliding gently up and down. A moan left my lips as my arousal rose. My stomach tightened as she increased the pressure, the speed. I wanted to come so badly but did my utmost to delay that. As much as Lily wanted one night of perfect, so did I. I didn’t want to think, just feel. I wanted someone to make me feel good, to ease the constant pain in my heart and my head. I wanted to lie back and be pleasured, let someone else take charge just for a few minutes.
Gabriel: A thriller (Standalone within the Divinus Pueri series) Page 12