Page 78 of Forgive Me Father
I blink, thrown off balance by the sudden shift. “The park?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “What does the park have to do with this?”
His eyes soften, and for the first time, I see a vulnerability in him that I hadn’t noticed before. “That day in the park, when I saw you sitting alone on that bench... I didn’t know what I was getting into. But I knew, even then, that I couldn’t just walk away.”
The memory stirs something deep within me, a fragment of a moment I had tried to bury. “You were there,” I whisper, the realization dawning on me. “You were the one who stopped me.”
Roman nods, his expression filled with a mixture of pain and resolve. “I couldn’t let you go through with it, Eden. Not then, not now. I’ve been watching over you ever since, trying to protectyou, trying to keep you safe—even if it meant lying, even if it meant going against everything I’m supposed to stand for.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and suddenly, everything starts to make sense—the way he’s been acting, the way he’s been covering for me, the intensity of his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“I didn’t know how,” He admits, his voice rough. “I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear it. But I couldn’t stand by and let your father break you, Eden. I care about you too much to let that happen.”
The sincerity in his voice pulls at something deep inside me, something I’ve tried to keep buried. I search his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all I see is raw, unfiltered emotion. “You saved me,” I whisper, the words barely audible. “That day in the park... you saved me.”
Roman’s hand finally moves, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “And I’ll keep saving you, Eden,” He vows softly. “As long as it takes.”
Roman's hand lingers on my cheek for a moment longer before he lets it fall to his side. The air between us shifts, the tension thickening, becoming something else entirely—something that crackles with a different kind of intensity.
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but the way he’s looking at me now, with a mix of concern and something darker, makes it impossible to think clearly. His eyes drop, trailing over my body, taking in every detail.
“Eden,” He says quietly, his voice low and filled with something that makes my heart skip a beat. “Why are you wearing my flannel?”
His question catches me off guard, and I instinctively wrap the fabric tighter around me as if that could shield me from the heat of his gaze. “I—I just grabbed something to wear,” I stammer, but the lie is weak, even to my own ears.
Roman steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Without a bra?” He murmurs, his tone holding a dangerous edge. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric covering my chest. “Do you think anyone would miss the outline of those pretty breasts if they closely looked?”
His thumbs skim the curve of my breasts, the touch so light it sends shivers down my spine, and warmth pools between my legs. I can barely breathe, let alone respond. The space between us seems to disappear, the room narrowing down to just him, just us.
My mind is a haze of sensation and desire. The weight of his presence, the intoxicating scent of him clinging to the fabric I’m wearing—everything overwhelms me. “I wear it when I…” My voice falters, the words catching in my throat as his thumbs roll over my nipples, the cold metal of his ring contrasting sharply with the heat of his touch, making them even firmer.
“When you what, Eden?” He asks, his tone demanding and soft all at once, like a dark promise. His lips find the sensitive skin of my neck, and he gathers it between his teeth, barely sucking, just enough to make my body melt into his touch, every thought consumed by him. “Confess your sins to me, baby,” He whispers, the words vibrating through me, making my knees weak.
“W-When I want to… touch myself,” I finally admit, the confession slipping from my lips like a secret I’ve held onto for toolong. His lips curl into a smile against my skin, a smile that’s triumphant, like he’s just won some unspoken game.
“There’s no need to touch yourself, beautiful,” He whispers, his teeth nipping at my earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. “Not when I’m here.” His words are a command, a promise.
Roman's mouth hovers just inches from my skin, the warmth of his breath lingering as he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense and unyielding. My pulse pounds in my ears, matching the rapid rhythm of my heart. Every time his ring brushes against my skin, it feels like a branding iron, marking me as his.
"Roman—" I start, but my voice is breathless, weak.
"Keep saying my name, Eden," He whispers, his tone both commanding and desperate, as if he needs to hear it as much as I need to say it. His fingers fumble with the buttons of the flannel, each one coming undone with agonizing slowness. "Whisper it, shout it, scream it. Just let me fucking hear your pretty voice. I’ll never get sick of it."
His words send a shiver down my spine, and I’m about to give in, to let the last button fall away, when a sudden surge of resolve tightens my grip on his hand, stopping him. I stare into his eyes, searching for the Roman I thought I knew beneath the burning desire that clouds his gaze.
"My father—" The words are a harsh reminder of the twisted reality that waits for us outside this moment.
"Wants me to prove to him that you’re untouched, pure," Roman spits the word out like it burns his tongue. "He’s convinced that if you were to—bleed—during some sick ritual, it would mean you’re still untouched by sin."
"But I’m not—" I confess, my voice trembling.
"I know," Roman says through gritted teeth, his anger barely contained. "But he believes that if you bleed during a... I don’t really know. A ritual or some kind of punishment, maybe? That it’ll prove your innocence to him, that you’re still...pure in his twisted mind."
The thought makes my stomach turn, the weight of what he’s implying settling heavily on my chest. Roman's fingers hover over the last button of my flannel, his ring cold against my skin. Even as the tension between us thickens, he doesn’t move to take off his ring, and the horrifying realization dawns on me.
"Then make me bleed, Roman," I say, my voice steely, even though fear tightens my throat.
He stops, his eyes searching mine, looking for any sign that I don’t mean what I just said. The seconds drag on, and I can see the pain in his eyes, the desperation not to hurt me, even as he’s caught in the web of my father’s twisted demands.
"Eden..." His voice cracks, but I hold firm, knowing that whatever happens next is beyond just the two of us.
