Page 8 of For I Have Sinned
“Look at me,” I whisper. Zaiden turns his face my way and I bring the fork to his mouth. His lips part, eyes widening and glassy. A groan nearly breaks free from my throat as his lips cover the fork and I slowly pull it from his mouth. I watch as he chews and swallows, his Adam’s apple working.
Very unholy thoughts about his throat move through my mind as I continue to feed him, sharing the fork and taking bites as well. The way he watches my mouth. The way he licks his lips. The way he turns into me, his leg coming up on mine and pushing my hand closer to his hard cock, his arm moving to rest on the back of the couch behind me. If I move my fingers even a little bit, I will feel his want for me.
I don’t see any of the game. Even after we finish eating and turn forward again, his hand slips beneath the table, clutching mine. It isn’t so much to keep it where it is and not explore. I think he just needs an anchor. He needs to feel me as much as I want to feel him. His hand has just slipped to my leg, daringly moving up, when Carter announces that he is calling it a night.
Most of the table follows. It is that pressure to leave too that made us stand and follow the group out. But we hang back, letting them walk ahead and put distance between us, his hand brushing mine with every step.
“Tomorrow?” he asks. “Saturday. Do you do anything on Saturday during the day? The morning?”
I do. I do a lot of things every day. Including trying to convince myself to stop giving in to this ‘sinful’ behavior so I can fulfill what I’m supposed to be fucking doing.
“After breakfast. Mid morning,” I tell him instead of what I should. “I can meet you wherever.”
“My house?” he asks, and I already know that my answer should be a resounding no. But I nod as we turn down a back street, one that’s not lit as well as the others, and head for his house now. It would be far too easy to slip inside. When the world is shut down for the night and no one is watching.
We’re quiet as we traverse the shortening distance until we’re standing on his front porch in front of his door. He’s already opened it but has left all the lights off, so we’re standing in the dim glow of the moon peeking at us from behind clouds.
Zaiden steps closer, his eyes shining in the night. I swallow. His mouth opens and I quickly shake my head. “Don’t ask me in,” I whisper.
His mouth closes, and he nods, swallowing audibly. When he licks his lips, my moment of weakness is far too great. I pull him roughly to me and close my mouth over his. Zaiden groans immediately, pressing the entire length of his body against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck. I take far too much. Kiss him far too deeply. Biting his lip until he whimpers into my mouth.
When I pull away, I’m nearly cursing and try to catch my breath as I forcefully push down the irritating guilt inside me. I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I say, “Good night, Zaiden.”
He doesn’t answer right away, still staring at me with wide, glossy eyes. His fingers hover over his lips. He’s so fucking beautiful. So goddamn innocent and pure. So good. My whole body is burning with the need to bring him back against me. But I force myself to turn and walk away.
His quiet voice follows me into the still night. “Good night, El. See you tomorrow.”
Fuck. Me.
Four
ELLSWORTH
I wake early in the morning and drop to my knees. It’s not so much that I want to do so much as it is a force of habit. While I try to concentrate on my prayers, focusing on recapturing all the sinful shit I’ve been doing and asking for forgiveness, I can’t ignore the bitterness in my stomach. That loud part of me that never leaves, telling me this is all garbage.
It’s always loud. Always sour. Always angry that I’m wasting my life. I try like fuck to tell it off, to shove it down and keep it in its little prison, but that shit just seeps out. Like it’s vapor. Unable to be contained. Unable to remain hidden and locked away. Nothing can keep it in because it’s not solid. It seeps through the cracks.
My issue isn’t dedication. For three years, I’ve done nothing but pray and study the Bible. I’ve listened and learned and devoted myself to this shit.
But therein lies the problem. There isn’t a single part of me that believes it’s more than shit. I don’t care how many fucking people are out there practicing this. To me, that makes them gullible. Not faithful. Not living good, holy lives. They’re going to die just like everyone else, and that’s it.
I’m not sure I even believe in a soul. So the question, ‘if you don’t believe in heaven or hell, where do you think your soul goes when you die’ means fuck all to me. No soul, so that question is invalid.
No one in my life knows that I feel this way. That I think this way. I know what it looks like to believe. How it looks to pray. What you need to portray to those watching so they think you’re fully dedicated to this life.
And I know I’m good at living that lie. Since the moment I walked into the cathedral, no one has questioned me. No one.
Although, I think they’re starting to since Zaiden’s shown up in my life. I don’t miss the looks I get, even as I outright ignore them. In fact, I lied when I knew I was going to be overheard, insinuating that I am teaching Zaiden the truth. Showing him the light. Saving his soul.
The words are bitter in my mouth. Not the lie of telling them, but the fact that it is all a lie. My life. This whole fucking construct. I knew after they left my mouth and the proper ears heard them, that their confidence in me was restored.
It makes me all the more bitter.
Climbing from my knees, I head for the small, attached shower and wash away the ick that always remains on my skin after praying. I sure as shit know that’s not how you’re supposed to feel. It’s the same feeling I got after I touched a girl when I was trying to convince myself I was into that.
The comparison makes me chuckle and I close my eyes to the water. Getting out, I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then push my feet into my sneakers, and leave the small bedchamber on the upper floor of the cathedral. My one request when I began this lie was that I needed to live on campus, so to speak. I wanted to be immersed.
