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“No,” he snapped, his hand darting out to grab my jaw to drag me closer, bringing us thigh to thigh. “Anthony. Do you understand. I left Conner for dead.”
“I understand.” I feared he’d vanish again, and this time I’d never see him again.
“Keep stroking.”
My hand returned to what it had been doing, fear still coursing through my veins. His attention returned to my cock, making me throb. His grip tightened. I’d have bruises. The thought nearly made me come.
“Show me how you touch yourself when no one’s watching. I want to see your most intimate moment. How you touch yourself when you think of me.”
Groans fell from my lips as I licked on my hand, neck strained with the angle, but none of it stopped me. I returned slick fingers to my cock, fucking myself with the new slickness. Eyes half closed, breathing jagged, losing myself to the fantasy come to life. He didn’t have to touch me for me to feel it. I felt the intent, the hand on my face enough to bring me to release.
His lips ghosted over mine. My eyes snapped open, confusion washing through me. “Do you remember kissing me before it happened?”
I tried not to look at him but his hand restricted the movement. “Yes. After you beat me with the cincture you’d found in the sanctuary.”
“Our indiscretions saved us that day.” His breath came warm over my lips, making me quiver.
“Will they do the opposite today?” I asked, so close to the edge I nearly fell off with every stroke.
“I don’t know.” He kissed me then, full on. Claiming my mouth as he’d claimed my body twenty years ago.
Pain erupted across my face. I came, shuddering in gasps. Heat stinging deep in the tissue. Ecstasy ruining me for anyone else every again.
He laughed, touch turning gentle, stroking and caressing my face through the last of my orgasm. “Our demons remain the same.”
4
SIN
“Will you haunt me until my death?” Anthony lit candles, methodical. One by one. Not in a hurry, the way he did it every night.
“Am I a haunting? A ghost of your past?” Made bolder by last week’s trespass, I didn’t take my usual seat.
“You’re late.” He didn’t look at me. Didn’t see the blood under my nails. Didn’t notice the dirt on my face. Would he care? Would he know our time was marred by death and think differently of me?
Death was easier as an abstract concept. Normal every day people knew wars killed people, and they accepted that as the price of the purpose sold to them by politicians. But when faced with the grim and gruesome reality of it, most balked and fled.
“A job kept me.”
He froze, candlelighter half way to its purpose. “Funny how I, the monster, ended up the servant of God, and you, the innocent, ended up the killer.”
“Irony at its best.” I stayed where I was, hand on the ornately carved bench, in the pew I considered mine. I didn’t move to sit, expecting the worst.
“Your father wanted you to be a monster. My mother never wanted me to follow in her footsteps. Funny how we both defied their wishes.” It wasn’t funny, but I still laughed.
“If they wanted to comment, they should have lived.” He cast a glance over his shoulder.
“Too true I guess. They don’t get to choose our paths from beyond the grave. I wonder if we’d have disappointed them?” I didn’t wonder. I was sure my mother would look down on me.
He lit the candle. Then the next. And a third. “We are both serving a higher power. Mine God, yours government. They would have hated it.” A hint of joy crept into his words.
“Do you delight in it?”
“A little. I think they deserve it for what they did.”
“Which part? The killing or…well, the rest.” I didn’t begrudge either of them. Only that it brought about their ruin.
“Both. I say no prayers for their souls.” His words were defiant.
