by Dark Angel
When the elevator doors finally slide open on the top floor of the tower, I head straight toward my father’s office. I don’t even bother knocking; I just stroll inside as if I own the place (which, in a way, I do).
"Why did no one tell me of this meeting?" I ask him as I storm inside the office, looking at my father with what I hope to be an intimidating look. Of course, my father isn’t the kind of guy to be intimidated by anyone. After all, before devoting himself to take the Donovan empire into greater heights, he fought in the First Gulf War.
"Glad to see you too," my father sighs tiredly, leaning back against his chair and drumming his fingertips against the glass surface of the table. "What the hell are you talking about, Clarise?" he then asks me, looking at me with an impatient expression. "You were the one who didn’t bother to show up. As far as I’m aware, my secretary called the house to inform you of this meeting, and she told me that the message had been delivered."
"Oh, that’s rich," I start, already imagining how it’ll feel once I kick Earl’s ass. "Really rich. Because no one told me of the meeting."
"That doesn’t make any sense, Clarise," my father tries to tell me, but I’ve already turned on my heels and left his office in a hurry. Walking down the corridor with heavy steps, I go toward Earl’s office; I already have my hand on the handle when I notice someone moving from the corner of my eyes. I turn around and, realizing that Earl’s in the main conference room, I go there instead.
I slide the glass door open and step inside.
Making my way toward my asshole brother, I lock my eyes on his and give him my best death stare. "You know," I start, slowly rolling the words out from between my lips, "your attempts at sabotage are going to be your undoing. I hope you know that."
"What the fuck are you talking about, Clarise? Have you gone nuts?" he asks me, trying to feign shock, but I can see it in his eyes; he was the one who got the message from dad’s secretary, and he purposefully kept me in the dark about this meeting. But what else did I expect from my brother? Even though we’re blood related, I can’t say I see him as part of my family, and he feels the same toward me, that much is evident.
"Don’t you fucking bullshit me!" I hiss, grabbing the armrests of his chair and leaning into him. I’m so pissed right now I think I can rip his head off with my teeth.
"Okay, it was me. So what?"
"So what? You slimy piece of --"
"Cool down, ‘sis. I know you’ve been doing your best to secure a spot in the company, but let me tell you something… It’s not going to happen," he says, grinning like a madman.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Earl? I’m your sister!" I tell him, fighting against the urge to slap him hard.
"Precisely. Do you think I’m going to let you waltz in here and rob me of my rightful place? This company is going to be mine. Mine, Clarise, do you understand? And the only way you’ll ever get a say in what happens inside this tower will be over my dead body," he continues, his voice turning into a half-growl, half-whisper.
"You’re a prick. A really evil prick… I don’t even know how the hell you’re my brother," I tell him, standing up and looking down at him with the contempt a piece of shit like him deserves.
"I’m the prick who's going to run this company. And you better get used to it. In fact, if I were you, I’d just try and get hitched. Maybe with Connor, huh? He seems to have a thing for you. Maybe you should just show him these tits of yours and maybe he’ll ditch his vows and marry you."
This time I don’t control myself. I simply cock my arm back, open up my hand, and let it fly straight into Earl’s face. The sound of my hand hitting his face is dry and heavy, like a muffled gunshot, and I’m pretty satisfied when I see the red marks of my fingers imprinted on his cheeks.
"You don’t deserve to be called a Donovan," I tell him, my words dripping with icy contempt. "You don’t even deserve to be called a man."
"Ah, Clarise…" he laughs, brushing the palm of his hand over the place where I just slapped him. "You might try and act like a little lioness, but that won’t get you anywhere. Now crawl back home; I’ve got shit to do."
"You’ll regret this," I tell him, looking straight into his eyes. He stares back at me and, for a moment, I see genuine concern washing over his face. "You want to make an enemy out of me? Very well, that’s what I’ll be."
With that, I turn around and march out of the conference room.
If my brother wants a war, I’ll give him a war.
Connor
"Alright, kids, see you next week…" I tell the group of young children as they pack up their bags, stuffing their bibles inside and running down the aisles of the church.
"Bye, Connor!" They all shout on the way out, making a ruckus as they hurry out into the dying light of another day.
I’m not the kind of guy that enjoys ‘down-time’. While some people enjoy vegetating behind a TV or computer screen, I like to get busy. And what better way to get busy than to give back to the community?
Shortly after my father’s funeral, I approached the pastor of the mega-church where the ceremony was held, and I offered my help. He told me he needed someone to teach a bible study class to the younglings from the congregation, and that’s exactly the class I’ve finished teaching.
During my tenure in Rome as a member of the Order of the Temple, I never really had the chance to interact with the community that much. Most of my time was spent going through financial ledgers, helping businesses and non-profit charities do some good in impoverished areas. That helped me prepare for something as challenging as being the advisor to a family like the Donovans but, in a way, it also distanced me from the community.
And you know what? I enjoyed teaching these kids. And I think that they’ve also enjoyed having me as their teacher. After all, I did my best not to be like those old boring farts that drone on about the Bible.
I’ve pack my bible inside my bag when I hear the click of high heels echoing throughout the empty chamber of the church. Raising my head, I see Clarise strutting down the long aisle, making her way toward me. I look at her as she walks, my eyes entranced by the gentle sway of her hips, her whole figure calling to me in that devilish way.
"We need to talk, Connor," she tells me and, for once, I breathe out in relief. The way with which she’s speaking tells me that she wants to talk about business, not about what happened between the two of us, and that’s already a step in the right direction.
"Of course, Clarise. Walk with me," I say with a polite nod; I start walking down the aisle, heading toward the exit, and she walks by my side.
"You have to be careful."
"What about?" I ask her, but I think I already know what the answer’s going to be. Ever since my first day as an adviser to the Donovans, I spotted the biggest problem in the family right away.
"You know what about," she sighs. "Earl. I know he’s my brother, but he … he’s not like my father, you know? He wants things to go his way, and when they don’t…. Well, he has a mean and cruel streak to him. And he doesn’t care about anyone—and that includes you. If he has to crush you to get what he wants, that’s exactly what he’ll do."
"I don’t care if he comes after me… I’m a grown man. Besides, he’s a Donovan, and all I’m trying to do is help out your family," I reply, even though I have to acknowledge what she’s saying: Earl doesn’t care about the family. He cares about himself, and if I stand between him and his goals he won’t hesitate to swat me down like a fly. Thing is—I’m not a fly. If he tries to swat me down, he might end up being the one swatted into oblivion. Like I said, I’m in the States to help the Donovans and if I have to crush Earl to help them, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
"You’re just saying that to ease my mind, aren’t you?" she whispers softly.
"Clarise … don’t worry about me. But thank you for the warning … I’ll be careful around all of the Donovans," I finish off, stopping right before the exit door and turning around to look into h
er eyes.
"You don’t have to be careful around me," she shoots back without thinking twice, and I feel my heart tightening up inside my chest in that lustful manner I’ve come to know so well.
"I have to be especially careful around you," I tell her with a chuckle, fully knowing what she’s getting at. But I won’t let her pull me down into sin again… I won’t allow it. Oh, crap, why does that sound like a lie?
"I also wanted to talk about that. About you and me, Connor," she continues, completely ignoring what I’ve just told her.
"There’s nothing to talk about…" I try and tell her, but I can’t help but feel that I’m lying in the most obvious manner.
"There is…" she replies, lowering her voice into a whisper. Turning toward the door, she grabs the handle and closes it, locking the door with a quick motion of her hand.
I watch her do it, and my brain overheats as I try to determine the best course of action. Deep down, I know exactly what I have to do: I have to open the door, and I have to step out into the sunlight. Sin doesn’t do well under the sun, after all.
But instead of doing that, I remain exactly where I am, waiting as she locks us inside the church.
We’re just going to talk, I try and tell myself, but it’s so blatant of a lie that I almost feel like laughing. I’ll keep in control, I continue, my heart picking up the pace as Clarise takes one step toward me, pursing her lips and looking straight into my eyes.
Fuck, what the hell am I doing? Snapping myself out of the dazed state I’m in, I reach for the door and start turning the handle; that’s when she lays her hand on top of mine and steps between me and the exit.
"Stay."
Clarise
"It was a moment of weakness, Clarise. Nothing else," he tells me, the words coming out of his mouth so fast that I just know he's been rehearsing them all day. And, just like my mother, I’ve learned to smell bullshit miles away… And I’m smelling it right now, because what happened between me and him wasn’t just a moment of weakness. I know that, he knows that. Everything else is a complete lie.
And that’s exactly what I tell him.
"I thought that men of God weren’t supposed to lie," I shoot back at him, lowering my voice into a whisper. "We both know it was more than physical weakness. Am I wrong?" I ask, and he just stares into my eyes in complete silence, the air around us growing heavy with electricity. "There’s a spark between the two of us, and I know you can feel it…" I continue, reaching for him and resting one hand on his chest.
The moment my fingertips brush over the fabric of his shirt, Connor moves so fast that all I see is a blur. He curls his fingers around my wrist and takes my hand off his chest, taking one step back and pursing his lips.
"We can’t do this," he tells me, his voice firm and steady, but I can also feel it crack underneath.
"Of course we can’t," I continue, fighting against his hold and somehow managing to free my hand from his fingers. I take it to his chest once again, and this time he doesn’t pull back. "We can’t, we shouldn’t … but here we are."
"Clarise --"
"No … don’t speak," I press my index finger over his lips, silencing him, and take another step toward him. Our bodies are just inches away from each other, and I can feel that simmering heat under my skin. "I know I’ve been a bad girl, but maybe that’s why I want you so much, Connor. Maybe I need a good man."
"I’m not what you’re looking for," he replies, hesitating as he pushes my hand away from his face. "Whatever you think I am, you’re mistaken."
"No, you’re the one who’s mistaken. I need a man like you… I need salvation, and I think that you’re the one that can save me."
"Succumbing to temptation isn’t exactly the best road toward salvation."
"What if this isn’t temptation? What if this is destiny? Maybe you were sent here for a reason, and that reason is me," I insist, placing both my hands on his chest, feeling the contour of his hard pectorals under the palm of my hands.
"Maybe God sent you because I prayed for someone to save me," I continue, looking into his eyes as I let one hand fall down his chest. I take it all the way down to his waist, my fingertips brushing over the leather of his belt.
"Your definition of God is a twisted one, Clarise," he replies, but each time he speaks I feel his voice growing less steady. Still, he grabs my arms and pushes me back again. Turning around, he averts my gaze and looks up the aisle, his eyes going straight toward the huge crucifix at the end of the church.
The expression on his face is a conflicted one, and I can tell that there’s a fight raging inside of him. The kind of fight I just know his rational mind won’t win because I have a say on what happens now.
I mean, let’s be real for a moment; if he really didn’t want anything to happen, he wouldn’t have allowed me to lock us inside here. But, despite his protests, he didn’t unlock the door; he remained here with me, listening to my words. And the way he looks at me … it’s almost as if he’s begging me to break past his defenses. And, oh, I’m so happy to do it.
"Maybe my definition is the right one," I say, once more closing the distance between us. Reaching for him with my hand, I place two fingers under his chin and force him to look back at me. "Maybe God wants us to be happy? I doubt he wants you to keep torturing yourself like this."
This time, there’s no quick reply. He just stares at me in complete silence, his breathing growing shallow and ragged. In a sense, the way I’m mixing sex and religion is turning him on… All he needs now is a little push.
"You want me," I continue, allowing my gaze to roam down to his crotch. His pants are tented, and I can already see the contour of his rock hard cock straining against the fabric. "And I want you…" With that, I reach for his hand slowly and curl my fingers around his wrist. Maneuvering his hand, I guide it between my thighs and force him to press the palm of his hand against my pussy, over the fabric of my dress.
I bite down on my lower lip as I feel the pressure of his fingers, and I let a slight moan escape from my mouth.
"Are you going to leave me in such a state?" I continue, my voice suddenly gaining a hard edge. "Are you going to make me beg? Because if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it… I’ll beg and beg and --"
"This is wrong," he breathes out, his voice so heavy I can almost feel the impact of his words against my chest. Still, despite his words, he keeps his hand on my pussy even though my fingers are no longer around his wrist.
"And maybe that’s why it feels so right," I find myself saying, and before he can stop me, I reach for his cock with one hand and grab it tightly. Allowing a wicked grin to take over my lips, I narrow my eyes as I tighten my grip on his cock.
"Are you going to make me beg?" I ask him again, and the look on his face is the only answer I need.
Connor
Turns out, I don’t need her to beg.
The moment she placed her hand on my cock, I was done for.
Still with my hand between her thighs, I take three steps forward and push her back against the wall. Pressing hard with my hand, I start rubbing her pussy over her thong, flicking my wrist at a steady rhythm as I keep my eyes trained on her.
"Is this what you want?" I ask her, my voice heavy and brimming with pent-up desire.
"No … I want everything," she whispers back at me, that devilishness in her voice making her eyes shine. Gritting my teeth, I grab the fabric of her thong and flick it to the side; cupping her naked wet pussy with the palm of my hand, I let my thumb fall over her clit and I start to rub it. At the same time, I part her drenched folds with my fingers and then, moving fast, I slide my index finger all the way in; curling it upward like a hook, I send it straight to her G-spot. The moment I hit that sweet spot hidden inside of her, she lets out a moan so sudden and loud that I feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
From the first time I heard her voice I knew that hearing her scream and moan would be something special, and I wasn’t wrong about that.
There’s really nothing better than to have my body pressed against hers, my cock buried deep inside of her pussy while I have her lips brushing against my ear as she moans my name.
Flicking my wrist at a steady pace, I let a smile creep on my lips as I look at her. She has her head thrown back back against the wall, her hair already slightly disheveled, and her eyes are closed. As for her lips, they’re slightly parted, just enough for her to breath out heavily and let me know all about the pleasure I’m inflicting on her body.
"I want you to come for me," I tell her, the commanding tone of my voice surprising me. "And I want you to do it now," I continue, pressing hard against her G-spot as I rub her clit fiercely.
"Oh, Connor…" she pants and, as if her body decides to obey my words, I feel her inner walls tighten up around my fingers. She arches her back slightly, and I notice the muscles around her neck tensing up as she grits her teeth. The tension in her body is almost palpable, but it doesn’t last long; sliding one more finger inside her pussy, I thrust it hard against her G-spot again and she comes undone.
"OH FUCK!" she breathes out fast, the tension in her body slowly crumbling as slight spasms take over her muscles. The sound of her voice echoes through the church as if it’s being amplified by a microphone, and a shiver goes up my spine as I realize what we’re doing; we’re going at it in a church, one of the largest ones in America. Sure, it’s deserted right now, and I’m pretty sure we’re the only people in the main chamber… But there’s always a risk, isn’t there? The thing is, right now I think I love the fact that we’re running a risk. If sinning didn’t feel good, no one would ever do it.
"That felt good, didn’t it?" I ask her as I slide my fingers out of her pussy, her creamy juices coating them. With my heart beating at a thousand miles per hour, I raise my open hand, taking my drenched fingers to her mouth; looking straight into her eyes, I brush my fingertips over her lower lip, painting it in her own fluids.
