Page 38 of Remorseless Sinner

I didn’t care about the money. Only about revenge.

“Complaining about a few names the Elders called your wife? This is not the action of a sane man. How could we ever make a bargain with you in the future?”

I only smiled.

They didn't understand me, and they never would.

“I’m not a sane man,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been sane. I wouldn’t know what that feels like. I did know I don’t forget an insult to my wife.”

Then I left and went to find her.

I walked into the kitchen and Gracie was already fucking elbows-deep in dirty pots and pans like the good obedient girl she wasnot.

“Is this what they’ve got you out here doing?” I asked sharply.

“I’m happy to do it,” she protested. “It is a daughter’s duty.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you do it. You are going to go out there and eat your food. Not sit in here while your food gets cold.”

“And if I refuse?” she asked, her eyes sparking at me.

“You won’t refuse. Because you know I’ll fucking enforce this on you. My wife is not going to be out here as the dishes bitch. Put the plate down, Gracie.”

As we sat down to the dinner, the other Elders gathered around the table, I held my wife’s hand as Father said grace, the feeling of her soft fingers going right to my cock.

Dinner was very subdued, with nervous glances over at us, but I took a big uncaring bite of spaghetti.

“Gracie,” Dr. Meier said, clearing his throat. “I take back what I said the other day. I was mistaken.”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“I was mistaken,” he repeated, and I heard the wet swish of him wiping wet palms down his pants. “You weren't trying to seduce me at all. I apologize for saying you were. I beg of you to forgive me.”

Her face looked surprised.

Very pleasurable.

Pastor Mickelson coughed. “And I don't think I've ever told you, Gracie, but you make an absolutely lovely meatloaf. I, er—greatly appreciate all the times you’ve cooked for potluck.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“And cleaned,” he added. “It is much appreciated.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously.

I felt that feral, primal urge rise up in me.

This was the real me. I might look more respectable now, I might wear a suit now, but deep inside, I was still that guy.

That unsettling guy.

The one who had a bone-fucking-deep fixation with his stepsister.

I held her hand in mine, loving the feel of her soft fingers, tracing the stone on her wedding band. Biggest goddamn ruby I could find.

I won Gracie with blood and brutality.

This was all I had worked toward from the very moment I had met her.

---