Page 22

22

T he last twenty-four hours have been a lot, and I probably shouldn’t be behaving the way I am after what Abbey admitted to last night, but fuck if I can’t ignore the way she looks at me.

She doesn’t even fucking realise the way her eyes roam over me like I’m something she wants to taste, and I’ll be fucked if I can ignore that.

“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I lock the door behind me once again, hiding us away from the rest of my club.

They’ll just think we’ve come in here to fuck, and as much as I’d like that, a fucking feeling I haven’t had in years, it’s not the reason I followed her in.

“What are you doing?” I ask her instead of answering her question, watching how the plate trembles a little in her hands as she stares up at me .

“I…” She glances around, frowning. “I wanted to eat alone.”

Ouch.

“Too fucking bad. I don’t much feel like leaving you alone.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes, and I can’t fucking hide my smirk.

These moments, with the eye rolling and the huffing or scoffing, feel like the real girl hiding behind the wall of steel she’s erected.

“Why do you feel like being alone? I thought we were having a nice meal together.”

She frowns at my words, her gaze dropping to the plate in her hand.

“I’m just not used to being around people.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, gaining her glare, which just makes me smirk again. “While I’m sure you don’t like being around many people, that’s not the reason you ran off.”

She just continues to glare, so I take a step forward, which seems to snap her to attention, her spine stiffening before she takes a step back.

“What’s the real reason, Angel?” I close the distance before she can get much further, taking the plate in my hands and setting it aside on the table. “What did I say to make you run?”

“N-nothing,” she stutters, and fuck, there’s that flush again, and I watch as her lips part and her chest rises and falls a little faster.

Fuck, I wish she’d take my damn hoodie off so I can see her.

“Was it what I said after I fed you the zucchini and you moaned?” I ask before repeating what I’d said. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Her entire face turns red now as she shakes her head. “N-no.”

I smirk. She’s right. That’s not what made her flee.

“Then what was it?”

She shakes her head, refusing to tell me, so I use my dominance to force it out of her.

“Tell me, Angel. Now.”

“I don’t understand why I do as you demand.” She rushes out before her face contorts in annoyance. “Dammit. I did it again.” She stomps her foot. “Why do I do that?”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

I didn’t know she was aware she was doing it, but I don’t hate that she’s picked up on it.

Yes, I’ve been using it to get to the bottom of things, but also, I fucking love how she submits to me so easily.

“Does obeying me annoy you?”

“Yes,” she admits freely, and I grin.

“All the time?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess maybe not all the time.”

“Just some of the time?” I ask, and she nods, her eyes dropping to the floor in shame.

“Eyes up,” I order, and just as she hates, her eyes dart up to mine.

Reaching out, I hook my fingers under her jaw, tilting her head back a little more to stare into her caramel orbs.

What is it about her that has me so… intrigued?

“Do you trust me?” I lean closer, noticing her breathing pick up with the rise and fall of her chest before her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips.

Shit. Does she want me to kiss her again?

Fuck, I wonder what she’d do if I just did it without warning.

Even as I ask myself that question, memories of her trauma rush to the forefront of my mind, reminding me that even though we shared a kiss last night, afterwards, she revealed her horror story to me.

Kissing her would be wrong.

Touching her would be wrong.

But fuck, whyyyyy do I want to so badly?

“Answer me. Do you trust me?” I demand, and again, she obeys.

“Yes.”

Her word is a breath. A whisper. So silent that if I wasn’t looking at her lips, I probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“Then I’m going to be brutally honest with you,” I admit, staring down at her as she so willingly lets me control her right now. “You’re a submissive. I don’t know you well enough to know if this is a natural personality trait, or something you were raised to be, probably a bit of both. The fact that you sometimes talk back to me, express your opinion or disagree with things tells me that it’s probably more from the way you were raised.”

Her eyes drop to my chest, dancing from side to side as she considers my words.

“A submissive?” she asks, although it sounds more like a statement.

“What happened in your home growing up if you didn’t do as your parents asked you?” I ask, and those caramel eyes find mine again.

“I was punished. Just like any kid.” She shrugs, frowning at me.

“What were your punishments?” I ask, taking her hands in mine and leading her to the couch. When she goes to sit, I stop her, lowering my arse first and then tugging her onto my lap.

“What are you doing?” she asks, stiffening. “There’s no one here to see us.”

I chuckle at the way she thinks my affection outside is still a ruse.

“I know. Does it bother you to be on my lap?”

For the longest moment, she just stares into my eyes. I almost start fucking squirming from the intensity of it, but then she shakes her head slowly, her lips parting to speak.

“No.”

I grin.

Thank fuck, because I’m not letting her run off right now.

“Back to my question. What were your punishments?”

“As a kid, just the typical grounding or going to bed without dinner. Being made to do extra chores. A slap on the hand a few times.” She shrugs and I nod, brushing back some of her blonde flyaways.

“And what about more recently? Did your punishments change?”

I already know the answer, but I need her to work through it and come to the realisation herself.

“Yes,” she whispers, moving to lower her head, but I lift her chin again, making sure she keeps her head up.

“Don’t be ashamed of that, Angel.”

Her eyes turn glassy as she fights back tears, and as much as I don’t want to see the pain in her eyes, I know these conversations need to be had. Especially now that I know which church she’s been attending with her family.

“Tell me how they changed.”

She chews the inside of her cheek for a few beats, and I can see she’s working hard not to cry .

“Grounded turned into total isolation and being banned from being friends with certain people. Being sent to bed without dinner turned into not being allowed food for the entire weekend sometimes, or only being allowed to eat a certain thing, like porridge.” She shudders. “I fucking hate porridge.”

I grin. “Angel, did you just swear?”

Her lips spread wide into a grin, and she bashfully bites her lip.

Fuuuuck. I want to bite that fucking lip.

Finally, she relaxes on my lap, resting back on my arm as she continues to analyse her punishments.

“Extra chores turned into complete slave labour.”

“How so?” I ask, my gaze falling to her dainty fingers resting on her thigh, and the way they fidget.

Without thinking too much about it—because let’s be fucking honest, if I overthink it, I won’t do it—I take her hand in mine, stroking my thumb over the top of her hand and watch how her gaze falls to where we are connected.

“Ahhh…” She loses concentration for a moment before she shakes her head and continues. “Instead of mopping the floor, I was forced to clean it with a rag on my hands and knees. Instead of doing the dishes, I was forced to take every dish, glass, and bowl from the cupboards and wash and dry them, even if they were clean.” She falls silent then, and I drag my gaze from our hands to her face to see her lower lip wobbling as she struggles with her emotions. “Then there was the night Mum made me cut the back lawn. It was freezing, dark, pouring rain in a storm…” Her tear-filled caramel eyes dart up to mine and she sobs. “She made me cut the entire back lawn with a pair of scissors. It took me six hours. I finished at four in the morning, and even though I couldn’t fe el my fingers from how cold they were, they hurt so much from using the scissors for so long. This,” she holds her hand up to show me the side of her right thumb where an oval-shaped scar is, “this was raw skin. Blistered and bleeding.”

“Fuck, Angel. I’m sorry your parents did that to you.”

“That wasn’t even the worst thing,” she whispers, and my fucking heart sinks. “The times I did something she found unacceptable regarding Daniel were the times that I’ll never be able to forget.” She shakes her head before swiping at the tears. “I was so clueless the first time it happened. I thought when she brought the Scripture out that I’d have to recite something and repent.”

“What Scripture?” I ask, already having an idea.

“The Scripture of Symme.”

Fuck. Symme. That’s different. Last I heard, the Valley of the Trinity fellowship cults were using the Scripture of Adie. I’ll need to update the Marx crew and the Angel sisters about this.

“That’s a type of bible, right?” I ask and she nods, leaning into me more and resting her head on my shoulder.

“So what happened when your mum brought the Scripture out?”

“Well… there was some reciting at first. Followed by an admonishment.”

“Admonishment?” I ask, not all that familiar with religious terms.

“It’s like a reprimand. A warning,” she explains, her fingers gently gliding over my open palm, like she’s not sure she should be touching me.

“What was the warning?” I ask, gripping her fingers when she goes to pull them away from my palm.

“That each time I dishonour Daniel or my family, my penance will get worse.”

A slow, simmering rage bubbles deep in my gut, ready to unfurl and seek vengeance. She hasn’t even told me what the penance was yet, and I know without a doubt, I’ll crave her parents’ deaths a thousand fucking times over.

“What was the penance?” I ask reluctantly, not wanting to hear another word spoken on how such cruelty was dished out to this sweet soul.

“Lashings,” she whispers, her whole body beginning to tremble. “Don’t make me describe that.”

Fuck.

FUCK!

“I’ll never make you tell me anything you’re not comfortable revealing.” I assure her, yet when her eyes find mine, I can see the doubt in them.

“You won’t demand me?”

Shifting her to face me better, I cup her cheeks. “I may demand things, but you have the power to deny me. You control what you give to others, not the other way around.”

She stares at me for a long moment before giving me a slight nod, and once again my fucking eyes track to her plump lips.

Don’t fucking do it.

Control your-fucking-self.

Gently, I force my hands from her face, releasing her and willing my fucking paws to stay the fuck off her.

“Tell me about the Scriptures. Are they the same as Christianity? ”

“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s a lot about worshipping God’s vessel, Symme. Followed by guardians that nurture and provide for us.”

“Guardians? Like your parents?”

She nods. “That and husbands. Husbands come before parents.”

“The Scripture says you have to worship your husband?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Through wifely duties,” she whispers, and I frown.

“What? Like cooking and cleaning?”

“Amongst other things.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but fuck that. I know it’s a big deal.

“What other things?”

Again, she shrugs, biting her lower lip as she thinks, probably trying to find a way to sugarcoat it.

Fuck that.

“Angel, be honest. Tell me exactly what other things fall under wifely duties.”

Sighing, her caramel gaze drops to her lap where her knees are curled up, and she starts picking at the loose cotton hanging from the bottom of my hoodie she’s wearing.

“The duty of the wife is to be at her husband’s beck and call. Should he want intercourse,” her eyes dart up to mine briefly before looking back down, “a wife should never refuse him, and if she does, as the husband, he has the right to indulge in his wife’s body as he sees fit. A husband has the right to choose the penance for his wife if she disobeys him, with the only allowance being that penance must not be something that will affect the wife physically if she is with child and for the first six months of the child’s life.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Abbey recites the wifely duties like she’s been forced to memorise them, and I have no doubt her mother made her do exactly that.

“Eyes on mine,” I demand, needing her full attention, and as usual, she obeys, her gaze locking with mine. “You know the Scripture is wrong, don’t you? You know no one has the right to indulge in your body in any way you don’t agree to and want, right?”

She nods, tears welling in her eyes. “I know. I really do know that, but I had no choice. I was trapped. I… I—”

“You don’t need to explain, Angel. You did nothing wrong. That so-called church is a cult. They are nothing more than a group of sick fucks brainwashing people to benefit them. They lie, steal, cheat their way into communities, and it’s too late when authorities realise what’s happening. The damage is done. They’ve already got their claws into people that are weak and vulnerable and fucking gullible. They take their money and force their beliefs on their congregation, using them until they get revealed and quickly disappear, only to pop up on the other side of the country as a new religious faction and do it all over again to a new community.”

“How do you know that?” she asks, her gaze now wide with interest.

“The Southern Sadists’ mission isn’t in taking down the cults popping up everywhere, but we help those that make it their mission to try to catch these sick fuckers. I actually thought the one your family has been involved in was already handled, but obviously not if they are still spreading their teachings in the Timber Valley district.”

“Can they go on the list too?”

Her words are so quiet, I almost miss them.

Almost.

A sinister smirk spreads my lips wider, and I give her a nod.

“Yes, Angel. Even if you ask me not to go after them, I will deny you. Death is coming for that cult. Once and for fucking all.”

Slowly, Abbey’s spine straightens. Her eyes appear almost stormy as she takes me in for a long moment before she finally speaks.

“You asked me earlier what I was thinking about that made me blush.”

As her fingers start to fidget together on her lap again, I watch as said blush fucking returns and I almost can’t believe she’s broaching this subject.

“I did. Are you finally going to tell me?”

She nods, taking a moment to mull over her words before she speaks.

“Promise me something first,” she demands, although it carries no fire.

“What am I promising?”

“Not to laugh at me.”

My hairline lifts as my brows do, not at all thinking she was going to say that.

“Why the fuck would I laugh at you?”

She shrugs. “You just might find what I’m about to tell you… funny.”

Using my index finger, I draw a cross over my heart. “I cross my heart and hope to die.” I recite the words we used as kids.

She grins bashfully, taking a moment to study those damn hands of hers again while I wait impatiently.

Then finally she speaks.

“You asked me to go to you.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Come here, is what you mouthed.”

“I remember,” I admit, and again she shrugs.

Is that her tell? A nervous shrug?

“Well, you did the same thing the night before… you know.”

Oh, I do fucking know, but now I need to hear it from her lips.

“Know what?” I ask, playing dumb.

“You know.” She leans in, whispering conspiratorially.

Biting back my chuckle, I shake my head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Dammit,” she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thinks over her options.

“Just tell me, Angel.”

“Fine. Last night in the courtyard when everyone was getting naked. You were…” She gestures her hand to my lap and shoots me a duh glare.

“I was what?”

“Christ, Ringo, you were like… wanking.”

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t fucking laugh.

“Yes. I remember.”

“Well, that’s what I was thinking about that made me do this.” She points to her blushing face, her frustration evident in her tone and posture.

“You were thinking about my cock?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. Okay. Are you happy? I was thinking about your dick.”

I chuckle. “That makes me extremely happy.”

“But… Why?”

“What the fuck do you mean, why?” I ask, and she gestures between us.

“This is just a ruse, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” I ask in all seriousness and her expression morphs into a deadpan, and fuck, it makes my cock jerk to life.

“Seriously?” she huffs. “You can’t keep avoiding answering my questions by asking more.”

“Can’t I?” I smirk.

“Ugh, stop. You’re infuriating.”

“Infuriatingly sexy.” I shoot her a wink, and when she rolls her eyes once again and goes to move off me, I stop her, delving my hand into the hair at her nape.

She gasps as I tug a little, the action forcing her chest forward, and those tits that I get the feeling are nice and fucking plump despite her bony arms and legs, press against my chest, just begging to be touched.

Sucked.

Fucking worshipped.

I wonder if she’d let me.

Fuck, no. I can’t.

“You have the infuriating part right.” She breathes and fuck, I tilt her head back even more, hovering over her angelic face, my lips just a breath away from hers.

“I know last night triggered something, but I need you to know, Angel. When I asked you to come over to me, that was no fucking ruse.”

I shift a little closer, moving slowly, waiting to see if she’ll tell me to stop, or push me away. Our eyes are locked on each other’s, her caramel pools darker than I’ve seen them. My nose brushes hers, so delicate and soft against mine, and I’m pretty fucking certain my bushy mane of a beard is tickling the skin around her lips and chin.

I’ve kissed women before. Too many to count. But never have I felt my fucking heart beat in my chest so hard and fast that I feel like it’s about to explode.

Never has the mere closeness caused such a feeling of anticipation that I don’t want to rush over the line just yet, instead, relishing how fucking thrilling it is just to have her here like this, our lips so close that our breath is already mingling, even though our lips aren’t touching.

“Angel,” I rasp, and she whimpers like she’s aching. “I’m going to kiss you now.”