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I roll her under me and kiss a trail down to her bellybutton, then lower, and she arches on the mattress as I burrow between her legs and taste her. I pull her legs over my shoulders, and she reaches down and tangles her fingers in my short hair. She tastes of summer mornings and spring rain, of cupcakes and dark spices.
“Please,” she murmurs, “please, please…”
Fuck, I have to be inside her, can’t wait a second longer. I pull back, bend over her and kiss her, swallowing her whimper, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Reaching down, I grip my weeping, aching cock and guide it inside her, groaning as I sink into her velvety heat.
I rock into her, and her legs tighten around me. Her hair spills on the comforter like liquid gold. My hips snap forward, pushing me deeper, and my insides clench. I can feel the wave of pressure rising, and I snap my hips faster, sparks of pleasure chasing up my spine.
Holy shit. It feels better every time, every time more intense, more powerful. More meaningful, like a symbol of the future.
My cock grows heavier. I’m so close, and she’s moving with me, moaning. Moaning my name.
Shit. I lose control, rocking frantically in and out of her, my teeth gritting with the cresting of pressure and the o
nslaught of release. Black teases the edges of my vision, bleeding inward. I brace my hands on either side of her head, a shout building in my throat. She tightens around me, and I crash my mouth on hers, so we swallow each other’s cries.
So perfect.
Chapter Fourteen
Tessa
Friday morning, and I’m sitting at my desk at work, my mind a thousand miles away.
Well, okay, not really that far. It’s stuck in a small house in the north of town, in a yard of overgrown weeds with a letterbox that’s broken and bangs in the wind. In a bedroom where I left Dylan asleep after making love this morning.
My face heats at the memories of how he went down on me, and how good it felt, how he touched me and filled me, and how amazing it was.
And then he fell asleep. More like passed out, not even stirring when I left the bed.
I’ve known Dylan for a big part of my life, and he’s an athlete, his stamina nothing short of legendary. Why is he so tired? What’s going on?
I stare at a piece of paper where I’ve written the name of the sect his dad belongs to. Dylan asked me to check it for him, see if I find out anything about where they are based and what their philosophy is.
Admittedly, the messages his dad has been leaving in the house are a bit worrisome, although they don’t have to mean anything. The fact his dad drew them on Dylan’s brothers’ foreheads is awful but still not necessarily a sign of anything dangerous.
But Dylan says he has a feeling something is off, so I close the logistics and contact number files for the archaeology expedition and click open a browser. I type the name of the cult in the search box.
Sky Gate. A church of redemption and transformation.
Very little is available online. I find a site chock full of pics of burning chariots in the heaven, monstrous cherubs and quotes from the Old Testament. Not a very friendly image. Also, no contact information. No schedule of meetings and masses at any specific location. All vague and pessimistic, warning about the end of the world.
Looks like they don’t recruit their members through their website. Then how did Dylan’s dad find them?
A photo catches my eye. There’s a man with a long beard, looking pensive and forbidding, but behind him… Something’s familiar about the building in the background. I squint at it, unsure.
Hey, isn’t it Miles’s school?
If it is, maybe Sky Gate is located nearby. It’s a long shot, but I could check if there are other buildings in the area the cult may be using, and…
And what, secret agent Tessa?
I stare at the headings of the website pages. ‘Liberate yourself from earthly bounds.’ ‘Repent and find heaven.’ ‘Smoke signs.’
Smoke signs?
I open each page, glance through it, and it’s the usual preaching about finding God, repenting and finding peace. Nothing new, nothing that can help me answer Dylan’s question.
Is this cult dangerous? Doesn’t look like it.
