by Lily Miles
“Enough, Baby,” he growls, scooping me up and laying me down on the pew. As he crawls on top of me, his bicep muscles strain as he keeps his weight from pressing down on me. I wrap my legs around him and bring him down towards me, eager to feel his body against mine again.
His lips capture mine, his tongue stroking my lower lip. I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers in his hair. We open our mouths wider and deepen our kiss, our tongues pulsing together in an intoxicating, passionate dance.
Trevor’s guides his cock between my legs and caresses the throbbing lips of my slick pussy with it, the same way his finger had, making my eyes roll back in my head. Every pore of my body is steaming with feral heat—I want him so bad I could scream.
“Fuck me,” I plead into his ear, cheeks blushing. I’d never even thought that word, let alone said it out loud.
He gives a faint growl and slowly eases his cock deep inside of me. He doesn’t stop when I clutch him tighter or begin to whimper; I don’t stop squeezing his hips with my thighs.
As my virgin pussy stretches to fit his cock inside of me, it hurts a bit, but at the same time, I feel incredible pleasure. By the time he’s buried inside of me to the hilt, the room is spinning and my hips buck against his own.
“Fuck me,” I beg, more urgently this time.
“Maggie, you feel so damn good,” Trevor growls in my ear, pinning me down on the pew as he slowly pulls out of my pussy and then thrusts back in again. Each carnal stroke makes my body spasm with ecstasy. As he pumps, I dig my fingers into his muscular ass, pulling him towards me again and again, reveling in this feeling of being one with him. Full. Complete.
Then I rest my arms behind my head and Trevor’s hands interlace with mine. We rock against the pew, inhaling one another’s moans and gasps of pleasure. I don’t know how much longer I can go before I explode, when all of a sudden he groans against my mouth.
“I'm going to come, Maggie,” he cries. “You feel too good!”
I can only respond with a savage shriek of ecstasy, as my entire body suddenly begins to violently twitch with pleasure, all the muscles inside of me tightening at once—the rubber band is snapping, over and over.
As Trevor moans and buries himself one last time inside of me, he collapses on top of me, his shoulders damp with sweat. As the first stars become visible through the high windows, we cling to one another, one unified organism quivering with euphoric bliss.
I can’t believe I’d been ready to deny myself this forever. Now I want Trevor inside of me forever.
He lifts his head and kisses me tenderly, his shaking fingers stroking my face.
“Maggie, I’m so grateful I found you,” he murmurs, his eyes shining though his voice is thick with sleep.
“I feel exactly the same way about you, Trevor,” I answer softly.
This, I believe, is what faith should feel like. It shouldn’t be captivating or enthralling, it should be liberating. Exhilarating. Orgasmic!
We curl up in this pew where we’re hidden from anyone peering in through the windows, holding each other. When I shiver, he grabs his shirt and slides it over my shoulders.
“What will we do until midnight?” I ask, stroking Trevor’s face as his eyelids slowly fall shut.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers before yawning. “I have a plan. I just need a few minutes to rest. It’s been such a crazy day …”
“Of course,” I answer, kissing his forehead.
Trevor drifts asleep, one arm around me, and I stare up at the ceiling and then at the windows, as night envelops the convent.
Then, suddenly, I hear a faint scuffling at the door. I try to sink lower against the pew, but I recognize the face of the person peering in.
It’s Sister Eva.
My heart drops when her eyes lock on mine, but she doesn’t shout for Mother Antonia or take off running. Instead, she gestures me towards her.
Carefully, I untangle myself from Trevor and pad forward towards the woman, tugging his shirt lower over my thighs.
“How did you know we were here?” I ask grimly.
Eva waves this away, her lips pursing before she speaks. “I heard you're leaving. I just wanted you to know that there’s a notebook that Trevor had in his possession … it had a drawing of you in it.”
“What?” I murmur.
Eva stares at her feet. “I only saw a glimpse of it, but it looked like it was something he treasured. If you two are leaving, he may want it back. Mother Antonia has a drawer where she hides things. She’s with the doctor right now so we can slip in.”
“Why would you do that for me?” I ask suspiciously, not moving from the doorway of the church.
Eva looks at me as though she’s surprised I would question her. “All I really want is for you to be gone, Margaret. You and Catherine both. If you two leave, I can be the one who everyone listens to. I want to be the one with the power. Monica and the twins and Grace are easy to control, Mother Antonia taught me that, but you and Catherine aren’t. Do you want the notebook or not? You don’t have long.”
“Fine,” I mutter, glancing back one last time at Trevor’s sleeping figure.
We walk together in silence to Mother Antonia’s office. We slip inside and Eva produces a key from her pocket, gesturing at a small drawer at the bottom of the mother superior’s desk. I unlock it quickly, finding a weathered notebook inside resting upon what looks like a tin cookie box.
I open the notebook, gasping when I see the beautiful image inside. Trevor had drawn this, and of me?
When I look up, Eva’s face is slightly pained.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, the head gardener lumbers into the room. He stands behind Eva, grinning as I shoot to my feet, clutching the notebook.
Before I can even manage a scream of surprise, Henry grabs me. He spins me around and pins me against his chest with ease, his rough hand covering my mouth and nose as he shoves aside the grotesque crucifix statue to reveal a passageway in the wall I’d never seen before. I struggle against him, kicking and biting, but he just laughs at my attempts.
The last thing I see are Eva’s wide eyes as the passage door slams shut.
35
Trevor
I jerk awake to the first rays of moonlight shining in through the nearby window. Two pairs of curious eyes stare down at me. I gulp and leap up, recognizing Sisters Monica and Grace peering down at me.
Suddenly remembering my nakedness, I cover myself with my hands before fumbling around for my jeans, then pulling them on. While Monica’s eyes curiously graze over me, Grace flushes scarlet and covers her eyes with her hands.
What are you doing in here?” Monica asks lightly, while a much more critically-toned Grace adds, “Men aren’t allowed inside the convent!”
“Maggie …” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking around. “Where is she?”
Monica shrugs. “With the doctor, I assume. He’s giving flu shots. Sister Grace and I already got ours, poor Gracie almost fainted.”
Grace peers through her fingers to pout at her friend. “It wasn’t because of the shot, it was because he kept holding my arm. He had to pull up my sleeve and I felt so naked …” her eyes drift back to me, who was recently actually naked, and she gives a faint yelp and covers her eyes again.
While Monica barrages me with questions about why in the world I would be naked in a church, I look wildly around, noting the discarded habit still laying on the floor where Maggie left it.
Something is wrong. My gut is twisting and turning like snakes have replaced my intestines. I rush towards the doors of the church that lead into the convent, but Sister Monica grabs my arm and stops me.
“Where are you going?” Monica asks. “If Mother Antonia sees you, she’s going to have a fit.”
“You don’t understand, Maggie was supposed to be here with me!” I cry out in a panic.
Sister Grace’s eyes flicker over towards the discarded habit, her cheeks going pink. She hugs herself, arms wrapping tight just
under the curve of her ample breast. Monica frowns, as well, her head tilting curiously to the side.
“Why?” Monica asks innocently.
I start to tell them the details, but then I cut myself off. I shouldn’t get these girls involved. Not with how dangerous Mother Antonia is. The less they know, the better.
“I’ve got to go.” I push away from them and run out the other doors that lead outside, looking urgently around the empty convent courtyard.
Where could Maggie have gone?
I whip towards the kitchen, charging over towards it and throwing open the doors. The kitchen is empty, aside from the head chef.
Erik points a spatula at me, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he glowers. “You have to order in advance!”
“No, I'm not here about any damn food, Erik!” I shout furiously. “I need Catherine. Have you seen her?”
Erik lowers his spatula, considering my panicked face and deciding to keep his smart comments to himself.
“Yes,” he says simply, narrowing his eyes on mine. “Catherine is with a girl. The serious looking one.”
“Where did she go?” I press.
Erik says nothing, but points his spatula at the closed double doors that lead into the dining room.
‘Hang on, Maggie,’ I mutter inaudibly. ‘Just give me a little longer.’
36
Sisters Eva and Catherine stand at a distance in the dining hall, the room empty and quiet: Saturday’s traditional early dinner hour had already come and gone.
Eva swallows hard, her fists clenched tightly. Catherine sinks languidly down into one of the dining hall chairs, dragging her black cloak up over her knees and letting her feet rest on the table. Eva’s eyes rake over the fishnet stockings, her throat suddenly dry. She forces her gaze back onto Catherine’s own, refusing to give her the reaction she knows Catherine wants.
Catherine smirks faintly, her head tilting from side to side as she analyzes Eva’s face. With Maggie and Trevor safely hidden away, she could resume taunting those around the convent she didn't like. If she didn’t, Mother Antonia would almost certainly get suspicious. Catherine was quite surprised she wasn’t already being hounded for details on Maggie’s disappearance, but she supposed Dr. Cliff was just doing an exceptional job keeping Mother Antonia occupied.
Catherine enjoyed watching Cliff from her private room upstairs. She could just see into the clinic, and at times he would change into his running clothes after his shift was over. He had the muscled body of a Greek statue, and Catherine appreciated the view.
“What were you doing alone with the chef?” Eva asks dryly, stalling for time.
She hasn’t made up her mind about what she wants to do, or whether she’s going to tell Catherine what happened.
Catherine’s eyes drift over to the dining room doors, thinking of the chef and the way Erik pushes up his sleeves, showing off muscles and rippling tattoos which Catherine enjoys with interest. She’d always wanted to run her fingers up and down the man’s arms, and maybe some day, she would. Erik, gruff and coarse though he is, has a tender heart. Catherine is many things, but tender isn’t one. At least not towards anyone other than Maggie.
At its core, she and Erik have a business deal.
The chef is Catherine’s connection to the outside world, and the way she gets all of her illicit paraphernalia smuggled into the convent, such as chocolates and steamy novels and fishnet stockings. It’d taken some convincing to get Erik to do her bidding, but everyone can be convinced if one makes the right offer. Catherine has always been cunning—she knows how to get what she wants, especially from men. Even if they're not interested in her “that way.”
“He’s a friend,” Catherine muses. “Not that you would know what that means.”
Eva glowers, her heart torn in two directions.
All she can think about is Maggie’s tormented face and what that man may be doing to her. When Mother Antonia told Sister Eva to bait the young woman out of the church hall alone, Eva hadn't known that Henry would seize Maggie. They’d been gone for a while and Eva had been hoping to catch the man returning, but there was no trace of him yet.
What if he hurt Maggie? Would that be on her?
She wanted power, but she didn’t want anyone physically injured. No, that would be just too much. Besides, emotional torment was way more fun.
Before Eva can say anything at all, the doors behind her and Catherine fly open. Eva whirls around, while Catherine just nonchalantly turns her head. At the sight of the panicked and grim-faced young gardener, though, even Catherine shoots up to her feet, nearly knocking over the chair behind her.
“What are you doing out here, Trevor?” Catherine cries irritably. “You need to be with Maggie! If someone sees you, it’ll be over.”
“She’s gone,” Trevor answers, his chest heaving. “Maggie is gone. I can’t find her, Catherine.”
Catherine turns towards Eva, her eyes wide. “You knew, didn't you? Is that why you brought me back here. Are you trying to distract me so I can’t help find her?”
Eva’s already pale face drains of color. Her dark eyes shift between Catherine and Trevor, her lips moving but no words coming out. Trevor charges forward and grabs Eva by the shoulders, giving her a rough shake. Eva trembles in his arms, trying to writhe free of him.
“Where is Maggie?” Trevor demands, looming over the slender nun. “You tell me right now or so help me—”
“The man, Henry. He took her,” Eva whispers faintly. She knows she can’t undo the choice she made to help Mother Antonia, but she can help get Maggie out of this situation. “He dragged her away behind the crucifix statue. I don’t know where they went.”
Catherine grabs Trevor’s wrist, dragging him back towards the kitchen.
“I do,” she growls.
37
Margaret
In the dusty upstairs room, I peer through the darkness at the shadowy, looming figures of Mother Antonia and Henry.
The mother superior stands directly in front of me, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight through the grimy drapes covering the windows. Behind her, Henry leers, his eyes wandering over my body. The way he openly gapes at me makes my skin crawl, but I refuse to be intimidated. In the struggle in the reverend mother’s office, some buttons on the shirt I’d borrowed from Trevor had ripped off, so it was now hanging open in the front, exposing me. My hair is mussed, curls falling freely over my shoulders. I'm sure my lips are still bruised from the intense kisses Trevor and I shared, and I know I have love bites dotting my neck and breasts. I wear those with pride.
“Henry, the door,” Mother Antonia hisses, pointing a gnarled finger at the passageway door that Henry had dragged me through earlier.
When I’d started screaming as soon as he released me, he’d laughed maniacally and told me that no one would hear me. I could scream until my throat burned and someone would just think a kitten was mewling in the distance. Judging by how raw my throat felt right now, he was right.
Under Mother Antonia’s command, he grabs a hammer and some nails from his back pocket and begins to seal up the door. My pulse quickens but I remain calm, glaring at Mother Antonia with my chin lifted.
I’d been afraid of her for so long that now it feels odd to no longer be under her control. Odd and liberating.
“Why are you dressed in that man’s shirt, Sister Margaret?” the woman asks frostily, her gaze piercing.
I don’t think she’s blinked since she brought me up here. When I don’t answer immediately, she steps closer and thrusts a finger against my chest.
“Did you let him touch you, girl?” she snarls. “Did you let him have his way with you?”
“How did you know we were in the church?” I ask firmly, unwilling to give her an answer without first receiving some information of my own.
Mother Antonia narrows her eyes. “You did have sexual intercourse with him, didn't you?” she growls, rage igniting the woman’s cold,
gray eyes.
“I did,” I whisper back, grinning lasciviously. Though each nail Henry pounds into the passageway door is meant to keep me locked in here for God knows how long, I will not be silenced.
There’d been so many times I wanted to speak my mind to the mother superior, but I’d always been afraid. She’d left me trembling in my shoes, too cowed to ever raise my voice. But I was no longer the weak little girl that Mother Antonia could push around: I’d bloomed, finally, into the strong, beautiful rose I was meant to be—and just watch out for my thorns. Meeting Trevor had helped me find my roots and blossom, though I’d had my doubts and questions long before.
That was why I was so drawn to Cat, who is so unapologetically fierce. Knowing her and Trevor have brought me at last to myself.
“You vile wench!” Mother Antonia shrieks, shuddering at the thought of a man’s hands on my body.
“And I loved it, Antonia,” I smirk as I disrespect her with her first name, my fingers curling into fists. I lift my chin even higher, still grinning rebelliously despite her intention to cage me away. “I loved the way it felt when he pinned me down on that church pew, the wood rough on my back and his mouth crushing mine. I loved it when his cock thrust so deep inside of me that it made my head spin—”
Mother Antonia’s palm suddenly collides with my cheek in a loud smack, knocking me backward from the doorway where Henry has been standing guard.
I stagger back, clutching my cheek, but the more furious Mother Antonia gets, the bigger my grin becomes. Her chest heaves as she frantically clutches the rosary at her breast.
