by Logan Fox
I wasn’t just blowing hot air up his ass. When he wants something—really, really wants something—it’s as if the Universe aligns to give it to him.
Even if it’s just an answer to a question I’d rather not give.
“I never said she was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You’re delusional.” I start to stand, but Cass grabs my arm, and not gently either. His fingernails bite into my flesh as he tugs me closer.
“What happens when you have to choose between her or us?”
A hard frown creases my brow. “That’s never going to happen.”
Cass’s expression clears. He releases me. “Yeah, let’s hope it doesn’t,” he says as he gets to his feet. I stand too, and he pushes past me to get to the door. “Because it looks like you’ve already made your choice.”
“Cass.”
He slips out the curtain.
“Cass!”
I could have gone after him, but then I’d seem desperate. Falling onto the couch, I sit stroking a thumb over the marks his fingernails left in my arm as I let the latent warmth from his body soak into mine.
He’s full of shit, but that’s nothing new. Of the three of us, his walls are the tallest and the strongest. No one’s ever broken through them. He doesn’t let his guard down for anyone, not even his brothers. But that wasn’t a requirement for joining this war. Every war needs soldiers, and those soldiers need ammunition.
Rage.
Hate.
Vengeance.
In this case, we each had to bring our own. But me and Rube and Apollo? We’re weak, flickering candles compared to Cass.
He’s the motherfucking sun.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trinity
After breakfast, I spend a few hours at the tiny desk in our room catching up on my homework. Jasper is there for a while, reading a book, and then he disappears without a word. I decide to close the bedroom door behind him, just in case someone—Cass—decides to pop in for an unannounced visit.
I wish more and more every day that I had a damn key.
A few minutes before the lunch bell gongs, I hear a soft sound by the door. I whip my head around to stare at the folded paper someone pushed under the door.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I wait, but thankfully the door stays closed.
When my heartbeat goes back to normal, I stand and fetch the note.
SHOWER?
The words all are in capitals, stiff and boxy.
Reuben.
He’s letting me use his bathroom again. Which is so sweet, especially with tonight’s dinner in mind. I guess now would be the perfect time to go—everyone else would be in the dining hall, eating. If I hurried, I might still make lunch once I was done, but I’d happily trade a meal for a private shower.
Plus, I’d get to see Reuben again.
The prospect does strange things to my tummy and I have to push away the thought so I can figure out what I’ll be wearing to dinner tonight.
I knock quietly on Reuben’s door. Why does no one except Father Gabriel answer their doors in this place? After a third knock I try the handle, eager to get out of the hall before someone spots me.
The handle turns.
The door opens.
I let out a relieved sigh when it opens and quickly slip inside. The apartment isn’t massive, but the minimalistic decor makes it seem pretty spacious. How do students get apartments like these? What does Cass’s room look like? Zachary’s? Apollo’s?
“Hello?”
No answer.
I head for the bathroom and then hesitate. Is it weird that Reuben’s not here? Maybe he’s sleeping. Or studying with headphones on.
“Hello?” I push open his bedroom door and step inside, biting the inside of my lip. I should be in the shower already but damn it I’m too fucking nosy. I know so little about Reuben that I can’t bear to pass up a chance to poke around.
After all, it’s obvious the Brotherhood doesn’t keep anything in their lair.
I go through Reuben’s closet and find nothing but clothes. Only some books and a lamp on his desk. Notepads inside the drawers, all filled with school work. Something starts nagging at me, but I’m too busy snooping to give it any thought. He could be back at any minute. For all I know, he just stepped outside to make a call or smoke a cigarette.
My eyes move around the room until they settle on the bible on Reuben’s nightstand. When it falls open in my hands a hard shiver courses through me.
Phrases in every sentence of every verse on every page have been highlighted.
I flip through, going faster and faster until I can’t make out anything but an orange blur, but still the odd phrase leaps out at me.
Subject to your masters
Sells his daughter
Lay with him
Great plague
Fiery lake
Seek death
Know that I am God
There’s a noise from the living area.
I snap the bible closed and hurriedly put it back on the nightstand, trying to adjust it the way I had found it. Then I grab my clothes, and dart out of Reuben’s room, fully expecting him to be standing there.
But thank the Lord, he’s not.
I release a noisy sigh, press a hand to my hammering heart, and let myself into the bathroom. After stripping down and folding my dirty clothes in a neat pile, I set Reuben’s blood-red rosary on top of everything. I’m not sure how many times wood can get wet before it starts warping or something but I’d rather not risk damaging it. Plus, I’m sure the water will eventually wash away its glorious smell.
The hot water feels sinfully good. I start lathering my hair, eyes squeezed shut so I don’t get shampoo in them. I’m just about to start rinsing when a hand slithers over my shoulders.
Reuben.
I bite the inside of my lip, half-mortified, half-jumping out of my skin with excitement.
I start to turn around, but then his hands sink into my hair and begin rinsing out the shampoo. It hurts when his fingers tangle in my wet hair, but my body still sparks to life—skin tingling, lips quivering, core tightening.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” I murmur, leaning into his touch.
Once my hair is rinsed, his hands slide down the back of my neck, returning to my shoulders. Strong thumbs sink deep into my flesh, applying pressure right on the precipice between pleasure and pain.
I groan at how magnificent it feels. At how right this moment is. It’s as if wild electricity sparks between us. If I hadn’t been drenched, I’m sure my arm hairs would be standing on end.
“Thank you for letting me use your shower. I really needed…” My words trail away as his hands move lower. He uses the flat of his hands to gently push me forward. On instinct, I put out my hands, bracing myself against the wall.
His knuckles dig into the flesh alongside my spine as he starts working his way down my wet skin.
One hand stays at the small of my back, working the muscles above my hips, the other slides down my ass.
Over the bruises Zachary gave me.
My breath catches at the faint thrum of pain he brings to the surface as he strokes my skin. Did Zachary tell Reuben about our deal last night? Apollo says they tell each other everything.
He squeezes my ass cheek.
I can’t help but groan at the deep-seated pleasure that pain forces into my core.
He lets out a strange sound, as if he’s holding back a groan of his own.
There’s a muted splash as he moves closer. Now both hands are on my ass. My heart stutters as his fingertips sink lower and lower.
“Wait.”
He stops.
“I’m not…I don’t think I’m ready for…for that.” My cheeks heat up at the admission. He must think I’m some kind of cock tease, letting him touch me and then pushing him away when—
His fingers wreath deep into my hair and he uses that grip to tilt my head back. Water streams over
my face, some going up my nose. I splutter, starting to struggle, and then his mouth closes over mine.
Suddenly, the fact that I could drown doesn’t matter anymore. Eyes closed, heart thumping, I melt against him.
He tastes like toothpaste and something sweet—soda?—and his lips massage mine so expertly that I barely notice when he draws me against him again.
Until I feel his hard-on, of course. I gasp into his mouth, my eyes flickering open. Water pours into them, forcing them shut again.
This is ridiculous. He’s going to drown me.
“Let’s get out,” I whisper through his kisses, blubbering like a fish half the time.
In response, he reaches past me and turns down the faucet. Not all the way—water still patters over my face—but it’s more a gentle drizzle than a cloud break now.
His mouth is on mine before I can blink the water out of my eyes.
Lips so warm.
Slippery.
Demanding.
Holy hell, how can anything feel this good?
I lose myself to him. My lips open on cue when his tongue slides over them, allowing him deeper inside. He moans against my lips, and my core tightens painfully at that urgent sound.
His hands coast down the front of my body. He squeezes my breasts, and rolls my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers hard enough to make me flinch.
Then he slides his fingers down my tummy. His kiss slows, and with it, his movements.
He presses harder against me, until I start aching deep, deep inside. His hands converge above my pubic bone, resting there for an eternity as he draws every ounce of resistance from me with a hard, languid kiss.
My arms had been dangling at my side. When I reach up to touch him, he grabs one of my wrists and instead urges my hand behind my back, between us, close to his cock.
Then the other hand.
I claw into his thighs. Does he want me to touch him? How do I—?
He grabs my wrist again, slides his hand over the back of mine, and meshes our fingers together. Then he drags my hand up his thigh, over his trunks, and up his stomach.
The fingers of his other hand are still just above my aching center. But when he urges my hand down his stomach and behind his underwear, those fingers sink down too.
I touch his cock the same moment he touches my clit.
I convulse, shuddering uncontrollably as a whiplash of heat and electricity surges through me. I break away from his kiss, my head digging into his shoulder as I arch away from his body.
But he refuses to let me go. He starts massaging my clit—hard and achingly slow—as he curls my fingers around his cock.
He rains kisses against the shell of my ear, using his teeth to toy with my earlobe as he starts pumping his cock with my hand, his fingers wrapped tight around mine.
“Fuck,” I whisper, arching again as his fingers press even harder against my clit.
What the hell am I doing? I barely know this guy, and here we are, probably seconds away from fucking? I didn’t think my first time would be in a shower. But, God, this feels so fucking right.
He moves my hand up and down his smooth, hard cock, speeding up as his fingers start strumming my clit faster than before.
My mouth falls open, but then I choke on a spray of water. He abandons my clit just long enough to turn off the water, and then dives back between my legs. But this time his hand sinks down lower than before. His fingertips sink between my lips, and he strokes all four fingers over my entrance.
I shudder hard, a broken gasp spilling out of my open mouth.
He groans, low and deep, and then I don’t feel his underwear brushing against my hand anywhere.
Shit.
This is happening.
Fuck!
I’m terrified, but ecstatic at the same time. If just this feels so fucking good, I can’t imagine—
His lips touch mine, demanding another kiss. I turn my head, and he devours my lips and tongue as if he owned them the second he saw me.
My eyes flicker on the cusp of opening as he applies a hard pressure on my clit and starts rubbing his palm against that nub of nerves.
“Fuck.” I moan hard against his mouth, and move his cock down with my hand. I’m still jerking him off, but now his crown can’t be more than a few inches from my entrance. I’m too short though. I have no idea how this would even work if I wanted—
“We’d need a stool for that, peaches,” he says.
My heart plummets into my stomach when my eyes fly open and I see Cass’s face an inch from mine.
I open my mouth for a scream, but he’s too fast. In a second, he’s flipped me around and pinned me to the tiled wall, one hand over my mouth the other on my throat.
My teeth can’t reach him because he keeps his hand cupped. My nails don’t seem to leave any marks on his wet, naked skin.
It was a trap.
That was what was bugging me earlier. I’d flipped through page after page of Reuben’s handwriting, but I’d been too idiotic to connect the dots.
“Would you calm the fuck down?” Cass says, tilting his head and frowning as if I’m working on his last nerve.
So it’s easier for him to rape me? I belt out an enraged—if muffled—scream and try to knee him in the groin. He twists away like all of this is second nature. Then he’s up against me with the wall of his body, pressing me to the wet tiles.
“What, suddenly my dick isn’t good enough for you anymore?” he growls. “And here I thought I’d do something nice for you.”
Astonishment turns my bones to jelly.
He studies me for a second, and then slowly peels his fingers from my mouth. “Jesus, I’d have been fucked off with you if you’d gotten me in the nuts,” he mutters.
“Nice?” I say, my voice violin-string tight. “Nice?”
He slaps his hand over my mouth again. “Keep. It. Down,” he growls through his teeth.
I almost try and knee him again, but I have a feeling that would be the worst way to handle this fucked up situation.
He removes his hand again and steps back. I twist my legs and slap an arm over my breasts in a lame attempt at modesty as I start shaking. Not that it actually matters. His hands were all over me. Almost inside me. And I—I was—I’d had his…
His eyes slide down my wet skin. “You cold?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.” I circle him warily as I move to the frosted glass doors.
I can’t believe I let him touch me. I can’t believe I almost let him fuck me.
I step onto the mat outside and reach blindly for a towel. Cass shifts as if he wants to get out too, but I lift my chin and widen my eyes at him.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper furiously. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He rakes his fingernails over his buzz cut, eyes narrowing. Then he brings up his hand and licks each of his fingertips, popping them out of his mouth one at a time. “Hate me all you want, your cunt is crushing hard on me.”
“Get out.”
He shrugs and slowly gets out of the shower. Unbidden, my eyes dart over his body as my mouth sets in a furious, trembling line.
Motherfucker.
Then I see the burn marks scattered over his muscles. I thought I’d felt something when my fingertips had skimmed his abs but I’d been too lost in his kiss.
Cass grabs the other towel and slings it around his waist. “So you wanna fuck in the bedroom or on the couch?” he asks as a wicked grin slides onto his mouth.
“Get out!” I stab a finger at the door.
He chuckles as he leaves the bathroom, but the sound cuts off as soon as I kick the door closed behind him with a strangled yell.
I should be shocked. Terrified even. But I’m just fucking angry.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he?
The worst part is, my body hasn’t caught up yet. I’m still aching inside, and the more I move about trying to get my wits about me, the worse it gets. I feel like I’m goin
g to implode.
Fuck.
I glare up at the ceiling, bite down on my lip, squeeze closed my eyes, and shove a hand between my legs.
But I wrench it away before I touch myself, shame worming through every inch of me.
I deserve this frustration for being such an idiot. Priests remain celibate all the time. Nothing to it.
I dry off and dress, and as I’m about to leave the bathroom, I hear Reuben’s apartment door opening.
Thank God. At least I don’t have to face him. My hand is on the door handle when I hear voices.
“What are you doing here?” Reuben asks.
I freeze, straining to hear through the door.
“Lady Malone needed a shower. I’m her escort.”
“Your hair is wet.”
“And?”
“Why is your hair wet?”
“I had a shower too.”
My chest clenches so tight, I can barely breathe.
“Alone?”
“That would be wasting water,” Cass says through a laugh. “It was her idea.”
I bolt out of the bathroom. “He’s lying!”
Reuben turns his frown onto me. He’s wearing jeans and a tight-fitting sweater. Standing next to each other like that, it’s ridiculous to think I’d confused Cass for Reuben. They’re close in height, but Reuben’s almost twice his size.
Oh, you knew, you blasphemous little slut.
The immoral, sinful, hedonistic part of me I always suppress figured it out right away, but the bitch kept silent until it was too late. Until I was so caught up in—
“So you didn’t shower together?” Reuben asks, glancing back at Cass.
“No. I mean, we did, but—”
Reuben drops his gaze. “You should leave. I’m busy with an assignment.”
“It wasn’t my idea. He tricked me!”
But he walks into his room without a backward glance. Somehow, it’s worse that he closes the door quietly and doesn’t slam it. Disappointment always hurts so much more than anger.
“Shall we go?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me. He’s wearing a smug smile, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back on one foot. The epitome of someone having a rip-roaring good time.
