Dark Descent into Desire

by J. J. Sorel

  Blake’s cum-stained lips parted. His heavy breath expressed the aching arousal I felt grinding over his hard cock, and I opened like a flower as the buildup moved toward what promised to be another convulsive climax.

  My drenched nipples ached from endless sucking, and my breasts were smothered by his constant fondling.

  Blake’s eyes were hooded, and he became lost in his own erotic bubble. His chest collapsed, and a raging release erupted through me, clutching his cock and drowning it in a torrent.

  His head fell back, and a gasp turned into a groan as he emptied himself into me.

  I fell into his arms. Our breathing was rapid and in tandem as we gradually made our way back.

  “You’re an exquisitely sensuous creature,” he whispered.

  * * *

  AFTER BLAKE LEFT FOR his meeting, I went for a walk in the forest.

  A pretty bird with blue wings had me sighing with wonder. It really did feel as though I’d stepped into a fairy tale. Golden gossamer sunbeams filtered through the trees as though sent from heaven.

  The forest had hints of the supernatural, as though I could step into a beam of light and be whisked away to another time. I wished I could, even though I would miss Blake.

  Infiltrated by these strange but pretty thoughts, I ambled along the avenue of glistening soft green leaves. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I lifted my head up to the giant trees and found the sky smiling back at me.

  At the end of a path snaking from the wood, I spied a cute picture-perfect cottage. Bathed in sun, the garden exploded in an array of colors.

  I headed over to take a photo, expecting to see a witch. It didn’t give me a bad vibe, though. If anything, I’d been transported to another time, when technology was only a word and not a way of life.

  Stooped over, gathering herbs, a woman with long dark hair noticed me and smiled. “Hello there.”

  “Hello. I was just admiring your lovely cottage. I hope you don’t mind me looking.”

  “Not at all. It’s such a nice day to be out and about. Are you a tourist?”

  I nodded. “That I am. From London. I’m staying at Raven Abbey.”

  “Oh, how nice. I’m just collecting some chamomile.”

  I looked over the picket fence. “This garden is so perfect. The colors are amazing.”

  “Many come by and take photographs. I imagine there are a few postcards getting around.” She chuckled.

  “It’s wonderfully photogenic, and your garden’s a delight.”

  “Thank you. It’s a labor of love.”

  “My name’s Penelope.”

  “I’m Marion,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  “I envy you living out here in this wonderland.”

  “It’s not an easy life. I have to work at it. I grow most of my food, and I have some animals at the back.”

  “That’s so admirable, though.”

  She smiled again.

  “Well, I’d best be getting back.”

  “Nice meeting you, Penelope.”

  “And you.”

  I watched her as she went back into her home.

  * * *

  I ARRIVED TO FIND Blake asleep. He looked so peaceful that I couldn’t disturb him. I held up the bottle of whisky. For some reason, I felt like a hit.

  “It’s a bit early for that.” I heard from behind.

  I turned to see Blake with his hands behind his neck, smiling and looking relaxed.

  “Did you go for a walk in the forest as planned?” He rose from the bed. “I might as well join you.” He lifted the crystal decanter and poured himself a shot.

  “I did. I met someone who lives in a cottage outside the wood.”

  “Right. A man?” His frown nearly made me chuckle.

  “No. A woman.”

  “That cottage belonged to Gareth Wolf. But he’s no longer alive.”

  “Her name’s Marion. She grows her own food and has animals. She was lovely.”

  “Marion?” Blake studied me. “What did she look like?”

  “She had dark eyes and hair and a scar on the side of her face. Very pretty, though.”

  The frown on his face deepened. “What side?”

  “Huh? The scar?” I asked, feeling a tightening knot in my tummy from Blake’s sudden intensity.

  Gulping down a shot of whisky, he nodded.

  “On the left side.”

  An aching gap of time fell between us.

  “I’m going there now,” he said at last.

  The breath that I’d been holding escaped. “Why? Do you know her?”

  He didn’t seem to hear me. I followed Blake and half expected him to stop me, but he seemed lost in a trance as I scurried along behind him.

  47

  * * *

  BLAKE

  WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN scattering Milly’s ashes at twilight as she’d requested. Instead, I almost ran along. I knew that forest path so well I could have moved through it with a blindfold on and still found the cottage that now housed my undead mother.

  It had to be her. The scar gave it away. It was from her fucking savage husband after he’d held a knife to her throat before slashing her face in one of his drunken jealous rages. Hiding under the table as a six-year-old, I watched on, shivering through a cold sweat. That experience, which felt like fingernails digging into a wound, flashed before me.

  But why fake her own death?

  It was assumed she’d fallen into the river. They’d even sent in divers. Now I understood why her body had never been found.

  I slowed down just as we reached the edge of the wood. At my shoulder, Penelope stood. Her panting blended with the hum of scurrying birds.

  She clutched her arms. “Why are we going to the cottage? Do you know her?”

  “I think she’s my mother.” I took a deep, steadying breath and held out my hand. “Come.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Your description and the scar on her face.”

  “But that’s kind of vague, isn’t it? I thought your mother’s name was Mary.”

  “Marion is close enough, wouldn’t you say?” I said.

  Her small, soft hand clasped mine, and suddenly, the tension dissolved. I could face anything with her by my side. Her reassuring half smile had a calming influence.

  “I hope she doesn’t mind us bursting in like this.”

  “It’s only six o’clock, Penny.”

  As we moved along the path, memories of playing by the cottage flooded back. I opened the squeaky gate, and my tread became hesitant. With each step, my pulse accelerated.

  “Perhaps you should go first,” I said.

  Penelope knocked tentatively while I waited there. A bead of sweat slid between my shoulder blades. A part of me hoped it wasn’t her. Because the thought of her abandoning me was unbearable.

  It took some time before we heard footsteps.

  When she opened the door, I hid to the side.

  “Oh, Penelope, how nice to see you so soon.”

  It was her. I recognized the voice. I walked like an invalid to the door.

  When she caught sight of me, my mother placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Blake.”

  She leaned against the wall as if she might faint.

  As I helped my mother onto a chair, Penelope ran into the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.

  The glass trembled in my mother’s hand while she sipped.

  Although her eyes were drowning in tears, I recognized suffering and guilt.

  A lump blocked the words forming in my throat. I fought with all my might to remain strong. I glanced over at Penelope. She bit her lip, and a tear slid down her cheek.

  I lowered myself down to a seat facing my mother and waited for her to settle. Penelope reached for a box of tissues and handed them to my mother.

  She wiped her nose, and a sob escaped her as she attempted to speak. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Blake. I had to go away.”

  “But you h
aven’t left. And what about the staff? Haven’t they seen you?” I paused for a breath. “As you probably know, I retained them when I converted Raven Abbey into a hotel.”

  “Only one knows about me, and that’s Rebecca. She lives in Leeds with Ben. You remember Ben, Alistair’s boy?”

  I nodded. Questions rammed at me like a raging bull.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t offered you anything,” she said in that soothing tone that once calmed me.

  Penelope rose. “I can arrange it if you like.”

  My mother smiled at her. “So, you’re both together?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, I’m so pleased. I enjoyed our little time today.” Her sad smile made the lump grow in my throat.

  I wanted to hold her. Hug her. But I needed to hear why she’d left me without a word.

  “I think this calls for something stronger than tea,” she said, rising. She stopped and stroked my cheek. “You’re exactly like him.”

  “Like who?”

  “Sir William. Did Milly tell you?”

  I nodded. “Did Milly know you were alive?”

  “No.” She lifted a bottle. “Sherry, whisky? I have some beer in the fridge.”

  “A whisky would be good,” I replied. She looked over at Penelope, who shook her head.

  My mother poured two generous shots and passed me a glass.

  I took some time to gather my thoughts, sipping. “Why?” I finally asked.

  My mother looked down at her glass. “To hide from that horrible beast that I married.”

  “He’s still alive?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I can’t risk it. I received letters from prison. I never told you at the time, because I didn’t wish to alarm you. You had your own demons.”

  “You know about that?”

  “About the priest, you mean?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  She let out a deep breath. “I only learned about it the day before Milly struck that blow. I had no idea. I’d been a bad mother.” She sighed. “Out of touch. Even Milly confessed to not suspecting anything until she got it out of Harry, who told her that the sick bastard priest had touched you too. Knowing that you worked in the chapel in the mornings, I went there.”

  “You weren’t a bad mother. But running away without telling me— that’s hard to accept.” I stared her in the eye. “Did Milly tell you she finished the priest off?”

  She appeared haunted. “I watched it happening.”

  My brows met. “By that, you mean you saw me?”

  She nodded.

  “You hid in the chapel?”

  “It’s a dark place, darling. Even during the day.”

  She continued, “I didn’t expect Milly to run in. She didn’t see you leave. She thought Harry had struck that first blow.” My mother paused for a breath. “After you struck him, I struggled with whether to call an ambulance or pick up that candlestick and finish him off. But my legs froze. And then Milly arrived, and she had the courage to do what I couldn’t. I’m glad she did. He was evil. Too many boys. It all came out after that. Many locals opened up about their sons, some of whom took their lives, like poor Harry.” She sighed mournfully. “The local police investigated but closed the case after the weapon wasn’t found. I think they realized there were too many suspects. And it had already had a heavy impact on the community. I’m sorry for not protecting you. If I’d known…” Tears poured down her face.

  A lump settled in my chest as I took my mother’s hand to comfort her. I took a deep breath. “Did you remove the candlestick?”

  She nodded, pointing at the mantelpiece.

  There it stood, like a trophy, gleaming and glaringly obvious.

  “You can’t have that here. What if they find it?”

  “Nobody comes here, my love. Only tourists and lovely strangers, like Penelope.”

  “And from what I heard you had a casual chat. What if the next person is a man or someone with malicious intent? You’re out here alone.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, Blake, you always had an overactive imagination. I can protect myself. In any case, I have the candlestick.”

  Her dark humor failed to allay my sudden paranoia. “I’m not sure, I feel comfortable seeing it there.”

  “It’s a testimony to whoever’s up there.” She pointed to the sky. My mother had always been religious, although not necessarily in the Christian sense.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve missed you for all these years. The pain of not knowing what happened to you has never left me.”

  Penelope sat close and held my hand.

  “My sweet boy. He threatened to come for me. I was terrified. After William died, I had little choice.”

  “But I would’ve protected you. You could have lived with me.” I took a breath to still my emotions. “Milly recently passed away. That’s why I’m here—to scatter her ashes in the wood close to Harry’s.”

  A sad smile touched her face. “You’ve always been a good boy.”

  For a moment, I forgot that I was a thirty-year-old man. I wanted her to cradle me. I’d become that young child who once craved her warmth and protection.

  “Had I gone to London Jack would’ve followed me. And then he’d have created problems for you.” Her voice cracked again. “I should’ve intervened sooner.”

  Her change of subject jolted me back to my abuse by that depraved priest.

  “How do you know that Jack’s still alive?”

  “I don’t. But I can’t risk it, son.” Her distraught features brought back the awful abuse my mother had suffered while living with that man. I finally understood why she’d gone into hiding.

  I persisted nevertheless. “I could’ve protected you.”

  “Darling, I knew that if you remained here, caring for me, you would’ve become the lord of the manor. Look at you now. You’re a sophisticated man of the world. And turning Raven Abbey into a tourist destination has brought so much wealth into the community. It was a sacrifice I’d make again.”

  “But how have you managed to lay low? It’s such a small place. Everyone knows everyone.”

  “I keep to myself. I grow my own food. I have a goat, chickens, and a cow. Online shopping is also pretty useful.” She smiled at Penelope. “I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty dress.”

  “Aren’t you lonely?” I asked.

  “No. I have my garden. Books. Memories. And now I have you. You will visit again?” Her imploring smile melted my heart.

  “I’d like you to come back with us. I have a very big house in London.”

  “I knew you’d do great things. Milly was right to arrange that DNA test. William was always close to you. He loved you even before he discovered that you were his own flesh and blood. He told me that before dying. He didn’t like Dylan and was relieved to learn that Dylan was Gareth’s son.” She stared wistfully into the distance. “He was the love of my life, Blake. I hope you don’t think poorly of me.”

  “You gave me life, Mother.”

  We hugged, and that lump in my throat thickened.

  48

  * * *

  PENELOPE

  WE ENDED UP STAYING for tea. The stories of Blake growing up at Raven Abbey warmed me. It was nice to hear about the good times.

  Mary insisted we stay the night, but Blake explained that we needed to be in the city by morning. Given the whirlwind events of that day, I’d forgotten I had my graduation ceremony to attend. Putting aside Blake’s dark history at Raven Abbey, I found myself enchanted by that Gothic estate.

  Mary saw us to the door, wearing a wide smile. Her heart seemed to spill over.

  Blake appealed to his mother again. “Why don’t you to come and live with me in London?”

  “Darling, just come and visit as often as you can. And stay next time. There’s a guest room. It’s even got a double bed.” Turning to me, she said, “It’s been so nice meeting you. I’m elated that my boy’s with such a lovely girl.”

 
; I hugged her.

  “Now, you be careful getting back. There are some hidden burrows and bogs.” Mary pointed at the dark, misty wood.

  “I can use my cell for light,” said Blake. “Speaking of which, why haven’t you got one?”

  “I disappeared.” She grinned.

  “Not anymore,” said Blake. “I’ll send you a phone. That way we can communicate. I need to know you’re okay.” He held her hand. “Yes?”

  She nodded with a smile. “Please come back soon.”

  We waved a final goodbye and headed for the wood.

  Treading lightly on the uneven ground, I admitted, “If you weren’t here, I’d never attempt this.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face me. The moon was full, which only added to the magic of the misty surrounds. Its pearly beams lighting our path also helped.

  I couldn’t get the story of the priest out of my mind. “Blake.”

  He turned to look at me.

  “Um… did the priest…?” I sought a delicate way to ask that horrible question. His face darkened, and I swallowed tightly.

  “He didn’t go all the way.”

  “I’m sorry to ask. It’s just that…”

  “He only touched my dick.” His matter-of-fact tone contradicted the gravity of the subject.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Did it just happen once?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is that the reason for your nightmares?”

  Blake rubbed his neck. “That, and me assuming I’d murdered him. Life with my stepfather wasn’t exactly fun either.” He sighed. “I’ve got enough material here”—he tapped his head— “to keep a shrink going for years.”

  “You can talk to me about anything, I want you to know.” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry to have asked. I just needed to know.”

  His brow pinched. “Does that tarnish me?”

  Gulping, I shook my head.

  “It’s left an indelible stain.”

  I took his hand again. “Please, don’t think like that. You were just a victim of a disgustingly depraved beast.”