Page 44 of Drag You Down
He’s made it clear he has no reason to try to resist touching me, either.
I stand up anyway.
Gabriel smiles gently at me, an expression that is so at odds with the predator I know he is. He reaches for the collar of my shirt and undoes the first button.
My cheeks flame up instantly.
Nobody has ever undressed me before. Even when Eve had to patch me up, it was always after I’d already taken my own shirt off for penance.
It feels worse, somehow, to be undressed in this manner, more intimate as Gabriel slowly unbuttons the shirt to reveal my undershirt. He kisses my chest, over the undershirt, before moving on to the next button.
My entire upper body is red from embarrassment when Gabriel gets down on his knees to undo the last button.
His hand lands on my belt. “I’ve been dreaming about you, my lamb.”
I’ve been dreaming of you, too.
“Stop,” I whisper, shaken by the veracity of my own thought.
On his knees, looking up at me, I can’t help but wonder about things that have only figured into my fantasies. Terrible things,wrongthings, things that I should confess to and seek penance from.
I’m too ashamed.
It’s too late, though. Even if he stops now, he’ll know just by looking at me that I’m aroused, that my body is interested even if my mind is screaming that this needs to stop before it goes too far.
Gabriel kisses my crotch, and even through the fabric of my beige slacks I can feel it. My cock twitches, and I’m terrified of becoming fully aroused from something so simple as a kiss through my clothes.
Gabriel sits back and undoes my belt, but to my dismay—it should be relief, why isn’t it relief? —he stands to gently pull my shirt off my shoulders. He sets it aside on the ottoman, then directs me to lift my arms so he can remove the undershirt.
Why am I complying so easily?
What’s wrong with me?
Gabriel kisses my forehead again. “You’re so beautiful. Exactly as I imagined,” he says, running one large hand down my torso.
I’m shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s because I never stopped to begin with after being in the basement or because of his touches.
Both, probably, though the reasons are so vastly different.
Then, it was God’s terrible judgement that terrified me into panic.
Now, it’s the Devil’s sweet temptation.
“Why are you doing this?” I find myself asking.
I desperately need this answer, a reason a murderer is interested inme.
“Are you going to kill me, too?” I blurt out before he can even answer the first question.
Gabriel scowls. “Why would I kill you, my little lamb? The only people I would ever—” He cuts himself off. “There are people who deserve it. Whose blood is better spilled, lest the rot in their veins infect the rest of the world. You understand, right?”
He meets my gaze, searching for something.
It feels like a waste of blood, I find myself thinking despite myself.
I wet my lips with my tongue. “Who are you to judge them?” I ask, my voice wobbly.
How is this different from Father Zachariah meting out punishment based on what he judges to besinful, wrong? But he knows better than we do. It’s his responsibility to herd us in the right direction.
