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“Spread your legs.”
I pulled down her panties until they twisted awkwardly around her thighs. I didn’t have to look, and I couldn’t even really see in the dim light, but the thought of her looking undone and at my mercy like this was so fucking dirty, I groaned.
My middle finger brushed down the cleft between her legs. She was warm and welcoming. Silky and wet.
“That was some rainstorm. Even your pussy is soaked.”
“Gus, please. Make me come.”
My hand moved back and forth, my fingers gliding between her lips until she started grinding back against me in a rhythm. I allowed it this time. Next time, I wouldn’t make it so easy on her.
The pitch of her panting breaths rose higher and higher, less controlled, and I knew she was close. I wasn’t even inside her vagina and her cunt wept onto my hand. She felt so good I was about to fucking blow in my pants.
My own breaths were fast and shallow against her wet hair. As a passage came to me, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Rise up and come, my companion, my fair one, my dove.
For behold, the winter is past,
And the rain is gone;
It has departed.
The flowers are seen in the land.
Arise and come.”
Her voice broke on a wail as she clawed the door with her pointed black talons, riding my hand as she came down.
Startled awake by thepounding on the door, I quickly scanned the room in shame, instinctively searching for my seminary roommate’s uncomfortable face.Oh, God. What noises had I made in my sleep this time?
But this wasn’t seminary housing. It was my parents’ house.
I was alone.
I exhaled in relief. Alone, in the attic cloister of my childhood home, slumped over the bed where I’d fallen asleep during prayer, curled around a pool of my own semen.
Decca
When the door opened,the dim light inside rendered him in shadow. But it was him. The figure was too tall, too broad to be anyone but Gus.
“Decca?” He flicked on the outside light but he didn’t need it. That glow he carried around with him, that inner light I loved, reflected onto me, warming my rain-soaked skin.
“Hey, you look, uh…”Strong. Big. Capable of holding up your end of a theological debate while throwing me over your shoulder and carrying me upstairs.
“What’s wrong, Decca?” he asked gruffly. His hair was mussed. His clothes looked like he’d just thrown on whatever was rumpled and on the floor after being worn during the day. But he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping. There was something wild in his eyes. His irises were almost as black as his pupils. He looked... aroused. Like I’d caught him in the middle of sex.
Oh, God. Did I catch him in the middle of sex?
Why hadn’t I thought of that? We didn’t discuss relationships. Or sex. Ever. Why did I just assume that meant he never participated?That I could just swim over here in the rain and save him from lifelong loneliness?
My stomach tightened at the thought of a woman in his bed. Grasping his holy sheets in her fists as he licked her—
“Decca. It’s late.”
Oh. Right.I blinked, chasing away those…uncomfortable visuals. Here I was. Yellow bug light shining in my eyes. Feet planted on the squishy boards of the funeral home porch.
“Uh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I had a question. I didn’t think you’d be busy.”
