The Maiden (The Cloister Book 1)

by Celia Aaron

  He wraps his large palm around my shoulder and pulls, leaning me back until my breasts are upturned to him. Lowering his head, he kisses down the valley between them, then licks around one nipple over and over until I’m squirming and desperate. As he claims the stiff peak in his mouth, my back arches and a quivering moan escapes my lungs. He lashes my nipple, sucking and biting, then performs the same torture on the other one. I scrabble at his buttons, but he yanks his shirt apart, shucking it off, then pulling me to his chest. Skin to skin.

  “We can’t do this.” He claims my mouth again, his kiss even more insistent, the need in him matching my own.

  I reach down and unclasp his pants, pull the zipper down, then slip inside. He tenses as my hand wraps around his shaft. Soft yet hard, the skin is so warm. I rub up and down, the same way he did when he came on me. Just the memory of him coating me in his release spurs me to grip him harder.

  He rocks his hips, meeting my hand as it slides up and down. I want more. The need inside me won’t relent, and I follow the twisting path it takes. Sliding to my knees I lean forward, my mouth so close to his wet tip.

  “You shouldn’t.” He grips my hair. “Not after what happened to you when—”

  “This is different.” I dart my tongue out, touching the salty wetness. “I want this.”

  His mercy evaporates, replaced with animal hunger. “Then take it.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me onto his cock. Opening my mouth wide, I take him in as far as I can. I gag, back off a bit, then try again. He groans, his hips pumping into my mouth. My gag reflex dies down, and he’s able to slide deeper. I take him, using my tongue to caress the soft skin as his head presses against the roof of my mouth.

  I suck and lick, not caring if spit runs down my chin. His grunts and labored breaths funnel to that sweet spot between my legs, and I’m soaked for him.

  Pulling back, I lick his head. “I want you inside me.”

  “We can’t.” He glances at the camera, his face tortured.

  “Bathroom.” I bob down onto his cock again, and his hips jerk. Then he’s pulling me to my feet and shoving me toward the bathroom.

  I stumble and then hurry through the door.

  He follows and slams it behind us, then lifts me onto the sink. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this.” But his voice is strained, as if my begging is breaking him.

  “Please fuck me.” I lick my lips. This started out of spite. My bird finger to the Prophet. But the more he looks at me, the more I see how close he is to breaking again, to shattering. And this time I want him to do it inside me.

  “Spread,” he grates.

  Looking down, he watches as I open my wet sex for him. He drags his fingers across my clit, then licks them. Dropping to his knees, he gets a direct taste, licking up my wetness. I grip the sink as he presses a finger inside me.

  “Please.” I can barely get the word out.

  “Such a tight cunt.” He’s gone, his voice turned into rough gravel as he tastes me. “I’m going to hurt you, little lamb.” He licks me again, from opening to clit. “I’m going to hurt you so much.”

  My thighs shake as he plunges another finger inside, stretching me as he tongues me.

  “Adam.” I lean back against the wall, the broken mirror no longer there. My pleasure is building with each stroke of his tongue, each plunge of his fingers. Everything in me tightens, and he senses it, fucking me harder with his fingers and whipping his tongue.

  I shatter, the orgasm coming out in a choked scream. It rolls over me as his fingers continue to work in and out. I shake, my body unwinding in steady waves until only aftershocks remain. He stands, my wetness on his lips, and kisses me. I taste myself, my desire.

  Opening my thighs even wider, he nudges his head at my opening. The tension begins again, twisting in my belly.

  “Relax, little lamb.” He kisses me again, swallowing any protest I may have offered. But I have none.

  He pushes inside me, then waits, every muscle in him rock hard. Then he pushes farther and stops, as if encountering some resistance. “This will hurt, but then I’ll make it feel good. Trust me?”

  I nod and grab his shoulders, holding onto him as he takes the only thing I can offer him. He claims me in another searing kiss and pushes all the way in. I cry out, but he keeps the sound, his tongue whisking it away as he stays inside me.

  Full, so full. I’m impaled on him. My walls convulse around his thickness. He strokes my back softly, his mouth gentling against mine as he languidly gives me everything he promised.

  When he pulls out, I gasp. He plunges back in, his cock moving smoothly until he’s fully seated.

  “Look at us.” He watches as he pulls out again, then pushes until we’re completely joined. “Your pink pussy taking all of me. A perfect, greedy cunt.”

  I shiver at his filthy words but want more of them. All of them.

  “It’s mine now.” His dark eyes meet mine. “You belong to me. I don’t care what happens. You are mine.” He thrusts again, harder this time. “To fuck. To devour. To hurt.” Another harsh thrust, and I’m clawing at his back. “Do you understand, little lamb?”

  “Yes.” I match his gaze as he plunges in and out of me, our bodies communing on every level. He fucks brutally, each stroke hard and direct. He grips my hair and kisses me hard, his tongue working at the same tempo as his cock. I can’t catch my breath, and he doesn’t want me to, fucking me like it’s the last time. Maybe it is.

  “I can’t go slow with you. Not this time. Can you come like this?” He grabs my ass and lifts me, pinning me to the door. It increases the friction on my clit, and sends him even deeper.

  I gasp.

  “Or like this?” He takes one thumb and presses it between us, rubbing my clit as he pistons into me.

  I dig my nails into his shoulders as the pressure between my legs ratchets up. “I’m going to—” I can’t finish the sentence. I hold my breath, and then see stars.

  My hips lock and I’m falling. He pounds me harder, the door creaking under the strain, and then slides so deep it hurts. His low grunts mix with my moans as he empties himself inside me. I float along on the rolling waves, drowning in ecstasy as he pumps a few more times, then rests his forehead against the door beside me.

  “Fuck.”

  I would agree, but words don’t come. I’m sore and deliciously sated.

  He bounces his forehead against the wood. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  His regret stings me enough to pull me from the clouds. I try to put my feet on the ground, but he doesn’t allow it. His cock pulses inside me, still filling me with unexpected bliss. He indulges it and thrusts one more time, sending a sweet, sizzling ache through me.

  “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” He holds one hand in front of me, the knuckles still bruised. “I’ll use these hands to do it. And I’ll look you in the eye until your light goes dark.”

  I believe every word.

  “I guess you’ll have to trust me now,” I whisper.

  He strokes down my cheek, then rests his hand possessively around my neck while his dark eyes capture mine. “Once I do, I’ll never let you go.”

  Chapter 30

  Adam

  I sleep in the next day, trying to make up for all the lost time. For the first time in years, I’m able to slumber through the night, no dreams, no sweats.

  But when I open my eyes to Noah looming over my bed, his face serious, I realize the torment was waiting for me to wake up.

  “What?” I rub my eyes.

  “Dad wants to see you.”

  I glance at the window. “It’s the crack of fucking dawn.”

  “Get up.” He throws the blanket off me.

  “Fuck!” I sit up and swing my legs off the bed. “What’s going on?”

  “He suspects you broke the rule yesterday.” He crosses his arms over his stomach and paces the length of my room. “Did you?”

  “Did I fuck a Maiden?” I shake my head and look
at him confused.

  He relaxes just a hair. “I knew you wouldn’t do that. I don’t know why Dad suspects you all of a sudden.”

  And the Oscar goes to … Adam Monroe.

  I stand. “Come on, let’s go up to the house and put this fire out.” Walking into my closet, I pull on some fresh clothes. I don’t bother glancing at the mirror; I already know I look like shit. Noah leads the way out into the second floor hallway. I pass the door on the left that hasn’t been opened in four years. I don’t look at it, but the truth of it is always there, like a dagger in my back that I can’t reach.

  We stride into the cold air, our breath puffing out in dreary clouds.

  “Any idea what prompted this brand new dose of paranoia?”

  “Nope. But he’s summoned the rest of the Protectors.”

  Fuck. I keep up a long stride, rushing to meet my fate. If Delilah talked, then it would be over for both of us. But if it’s just whispers from a Spinner or something circumstantial, I can talk my way out of this.

  The house is warm and scented with cinnamon as we walk in. Mom is waiting by the back door.

  “What are you doing here?” I scan the area and Noah closes the door quickly and flips the lock.

  “He’s on a tear. Coke all night long. Girls from the Chapel.”

  “What did he do?” I push the dark hair away from her forehead. A patch of gauze covers about an inch of skin. Murderous rage erupts inside me like a geyser.

  “He’s done worse.” She glances around. “I just wanted to warn you. He says he’s got video of you breaking his law. But I watched through a crack Castro left in the door. It’s nothing.” Her cheeks heat. “I mean, it’s something, but it doesn’t—”

  “Mom, footsteps.” Noah grabs her elbow and pushes her down behind the basement bar.

  “The Prophet is waiting.” Castro hits the bottom step from the main level, grinning and motioning for us to get on with it.

  Mom stays put. If he saw us talking to her, there would be even more hell to pay. I haven’t been that close to her in years, not one-on-one, anyway. An old, familiar ache cuts through my chest, but I ignore it and follow Castro to my father’s office.

  “Here he is, my prodigal son.” My father glares as Noah and I enter. The other Protectors are already spread around the room, crammed on sofas or standing at windows.

  “I have more contracts to work on, so if we could get to it, that would be perfect.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms over my chest.

  “You see how he flouts my law?” He looks around the room.

  The Protectors nod as he pulls their pathetic puppet strings.

  “My firstborn, the one who should be working to further the goals of Heavenly, who should be the example that all others live by. Instead, he turns his nose up at both God and the Father of Fire. And worse, at me.”

  I let him go on and on about how awful I am. Most of it’s true, so there’s no point arguing. When he finally gets to the point, I stand straight.

  “And now, he’s broken the one rule that we all live by. The one rule I enforce with unflinching certainty based on what God has revealed to me. He has fornicated with a Maiden.”

  The Protectors’ heads turn on a swivel. They can stare all they like.

  “Do you have any evidence?” I inspect my fingernails.

  “I certainly do!” he bellows and scrabbles to grab a remote.

  Castro hits a button on the wall, dropping a flatscreen from the ceiling. My father presses play, and video from Delilah’s room appears.

  A smirk spreads across my face as the scene plays out and she drops to her knees. “Mind if I narrate? I can tell you for certain that her tongue is soft as silk, and, thanks to my instructions, her gag reflex verges on nonexistent.”

  A couple of Protectors shift uncomfortably. I’d be feeling awkward too, if I was sporting a boner like they are.

  “Here!” My father points as I push Delilah off screen and follow her into the bathroom. “This is where you broke my law.” He fast forwards and stops, noting the time stamp when we exit the room. “Fifteen minutes. What were you doing in there for fifteen minutes?”

  I smile. “She swallowed my first load, but dribbled some down her chin. I told her to go clean it up. You saw me shove her worthless ass. Then she sucked me off again, and swallowed every last drop in perfect obedience.”

  My father’s brows are still pressed together. He must be behind on his botox schedule.

  “You expect us to believe that?”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “I sent Grace this morning.”

  My stomach churns at what Grace would do to Delilah if she thought the allegations were true. “And?”

  He throws the remote onto the desk, and the back pops off, sending batteries rolling onto the floor. “Grace!”

  Soft steps across the marble at my back, and Grace appears. She must have been waiting in the sitting room.

  “Yes, Prophet?”

  “What did the girl say?”

  She cuts her eyes at me. “I questioned her for an hour. Used a few tactics to make sure she was truthful. Her story matches his down to the last detail. I also performed the test—” she holds up two fingers “—but it was inconclusive as to virginity, given she admitted in her entrance interview that she was a filthy female who violated herself with tampons. However, I would like to investigate further.”

  “How?” My father finally sits in his chair, but doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  “If I may inspect Adam’s manhood?”

  I fist my hands, but don’t give any other outward sign of wanting to beat her to death.

  “By all means.” My father waves a hand at me.

  “Thank you.” She faces me, a smile playing across her thin lips. Dropping to her knees, she unbuckles my belt, unfastens my pants, then pulls them down to my ankles. “No underwear?” She smirks up at me.

  “Get on with it.” My cock doesn’t even twitch as she does her inspection.

  Leaning in, she takes a big whiff, then settles back on her heels.

  “Well?” My father raps his knuckles on the desk.

  Grace stands. “He’s clean. No scent on him.”

  “He must have showered,” my father mutters.

  I scratch the four days of growth on my face. “Afraid not.”

  “Get the fuck out of here!” He yanks open his desk drawer and pulls out his coke stash. “All of you!”

  Noah lets out a deep breath and pulls me into the foyer. “Fuck, man.”

  “Come on.” I hurry down the steps and out the back door, not even glancing at the bar. My mother may still be there, but I won’t reveal her hiding spot.

  I’m moving fast, thanks to the adrenaline exploding through me.

  Noah is close on my heels. “That was close. Too close.”

  “I know.” I shove my hands in my pockets and head for my house. My father is losing his already shaky grip on reality, and no one will do a thing to stop him.

  “Dad is acting—”

  “Like a psycho? Even more than usual?” I keep my voice low even though we’re out of earshot of the rest of the Protectors.

  Noah shrugs. “I guess he’s just doing what God tells him, or the Father of Fire.”

  “You still believe that horse shit?” I hate myself for wanting to pummel him.

  “You saw the flames. You saw what he can do.”

  I shake my head. “What we thought we saw when we were stupid kids doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t explain what he does to Mom, or you, or me, or anyone else in this goddamn pit.” I whirl on him. “Wake the fuck up, Noah! Our father doesn’t speak to God or the devil, or anyone other than his coke habit. This place is the farthest thing from holy. And he’s planning on making it all worse.”

  His jaw clenches. “I don’t believe that.” He frowns. “Well, not all of it.”

  “Fuck off, Noah.” I turn my back on him, then stop. Turning, I say, “Look, I—”r />
  “No, I get it.” He holds up his hands and backs away. “I’m fucking off. Forget that I came to warn you, that I always have your back, that I always take your side against Dad.”

  Regret punches me in the gut, but I let him go. I add the hurt in his eyes to my already-crushing problems.

  Chapter 31

  Delilah

  Adam doesn’t come. I wait for him, wondering what he endured this morning. Grace questioned me, using her baton on me every time I gave her an answer she didn’t like, and then violated me in an even worse way. I’m sore, bruised, but holding onto hope that Adam will know I didn’t say a word. And I need to see him. Not because of what happened with Grace, or to find out what’s going on, or even to ask about Georgia. I just need to see him.

  I stand and walk to the bathroom, examining my injuries under the harsh bathroom light. My mottled skin will heal in time, and even my broken finger is starting to mend. I glance up at the newly-installed camera in the corner and feel sick. There’s nowhere to hide. Not anymore.

  Pulling my dress back into place, I return to my bed. Everything hurts, so I lie down and stare at the door. Waiting. Maybe he’ll never come again. The thought twists in my gut like a knife. Surely, he’d never tell them anything. Or would he give me up? I shake my head at the thought. He wouldn’t. And if he had, I get the feeling I’d know it. Grace looks forward to punishing me more than her next breath. She’d take any opportunity to grind me down.

  I try to calm my racing heart. Closing my eyes, I hear phantom footsteps that sound just like Adam. But they aren’t him. The other Protectors have already come and gone. I’m alone. I pull my knees up and hug them. It’s easier to make myself small now. Slow, methodical starvation does that to a person.

  My eyes close, but I still listen for him. I can feel him inside me, the ache reminding me with every step I take that I’m different now. But is he?

  A scratching noise at my door startles me awake. The moon is gone, the sky outside black—it’s late in the night. The scratch comes again. I hurry out of bed and hesitate by the door.