My eyes had barely opened the next morning when I was thrown on my back by Houston, who I’d apparently draped half my body on top of while I slept. He quickly settled between my legs, keeping me trapped with his weight as he peered down into my eyes.
He was angry, and I understood why.
Last night, I refused to talk when I knew they were eager to listen. I’d made demands with no explanation of why I needed them. They hadn’t complained. They simply gave. The only exception had been letting me run away from my problems.
The sweet and woodsy scent of his clove soap wafted off his warm skin, so I knew he must have taken a shower last night. Combined with the intensity of his green gaze, I felt like I was standing in the middle of an evergreen forest. If that forest also smelled like vanilla.
“I know you’re mad,” I blurted when he shoved his sweats off his hips. He then reached over Loren, still sleeping deeply next to us, to flip open the wallet he’d left on the nightstand. I knew already what Houston would grab from inside.
“Mad? No.” Plucking a condom free from Loren’s wallet, Houston tore it open with his teeth before I watched him roll it down his long, thick dick. “I’m livid, baby.”
I tasted cherries on my tongue while my head was scrambling to figure my way out of the trouble I’d landed myself in.
“Okay, I hear you, and I’m ready to talk now.”
“I’m sure you are,” he returned dismissively.
I felt him tug my panties to the side, the only thing I’d worn last night, before testing my readiness with the head of his dick. I was wet for him, but he already knew that.
He slowly pushed inside once he was done teasing me, and he didn’t stop until I’d taken every inch. Still unused to him, he stole my breath even as my legs fell open to make room for him. I felt his mouth skim my neck as he took his time fucking me, and lost in the sensation, I turned my head to kiss him.
As if the war he waged on my body wasn’t enough, he chose to play with my heart as well when he dodged my lips.
“Houston,” I heard myself whine.
I tried to kiss him again, but he continued to elude me. Turning my head away in frustration, I saw the hint of his smile from the corner of my eye and hated him even as I loved what he did to my body.
Houston inevitably picked up the pace, making the bed rock and the headboard slam into the wall as he fucked me harder and deeper under the covers while Loren and Rich slept next to us. I knew I must have worn them out yesterday since they didn’t stir once the entire time Houston fucked me.
We didn’t even try to keep quiet.
If Loren and Rich woke up, I’d let them have a turn too until they were sated, and I was drained of every drop.
I was the whore of Faithful, after all.
The scarlet who’d corrupted good Catholic sons.
The incarnate Hester Prynne who didn’t just stop at one or even two.
I moaned as Houston rose onto his forearm. His other hand then gripped my hip as he wildly slammed his hips against mine with short, brutal thrusts that told me he was close to coming.
Panic and desperation rose inside me even as I cried out from the pleasure.
I wasn’t there yet.
I was close but not as close as him.
It didn’t occur to me the punishment Houston intended to enact until he shoved inside me one last time with a groan as he flooded the condom.
Still breathing hard and seeing the confusion on my face, he quickly leaned down and finally kissed me. I was already wrapping my legs around his waist, eager for round two, when he abruptly ended the kiss. Houston didn’t offer a word of explanation before throwing my legs off him and rising from the bed.
I quickly sat up, holding the covers to my chest as I watched him saunter toward the bathroom while removing the condom from his dick.
He couldn’t be serious.
When he closed the bathroom door behind him, and I heard the lock turn, I realized he had no intention of finishing what he had started. After peeking at Loren and Rich, who were both still sound asleep, I slammed my back onto the bed with a frustrated growl.
I could wake them up, but I couldn’t handle being rejected three times in one morning. I may have deserved it. I may have even loved whenever they used me for their needs, but being here was having the opposite effect.
Suddenly, I was sixteen again and standing on a scaffold.
Instead of the boys whose faces and names I couldn’t remember, it was Houston, Loren, and Rich staring back at me. It was their fingers pointed my way as they forced me to bear all the blame.
My heart rejected the possibility even as the bitter aroma of olive oil assaulted me. Shame was the reason I always stopped myself from talking to them about Rosalie—my reason for joining Bound. It meant revealing everything I’d done and why I was given no choice but to leave home.
Even with five years and hundreds of miles between us, Faithful hadn’t forgotten me.
I didn’t realize Houston and I were no longer the only ones awake until the bed shifted, and the covers were snatched from my body.
There was no time to react before my panties were discarded, my legs pushed open, and a head with hair as dark as black ink fell between them. His warm tongue swiped my wet opening, soothing the soreness there and making me forget my woes. Soon, he began to attack my throbbing clit, bringing back the orgasm Houston had stolen from me as the sweet smell of berries pushed away the shame.
Winding my hips as I pushed my fingers through the gorgeous stands, I tossed my head back and sighed his name.
“Rich.”
We sat alone at the back of the quiet church.
Communion had just been given, and after receiving it, the congregation belonging to the Angels of Purity & Faith fell into reflective silence. Houston, Loren, Rich, and I went ignored but not forgotten.
There was only one sweet exception.
My sister turned in her seat once more since learning I was here and smiled brightly as if she was seeing me for the first time today.
I smiled back.
We had the same brown eyes from our father and red hair from our mother, although Rosalie’s tresses were paler and cropped at her shoulder. Our mother maintained that long hair was the mark of a wanton woman. I made sure when I left home to trim mine less often, and now my hair stretched toward the end of my spine.
Rosalie’s excited gaze shifted to the rock gods fidgeting in the wooden pew we shared as if they’d burst into flames any moment now.
I shared their anxiety.
I never thought I’d be here again.
After my mother made it clear last night that I wasn’t welcome in their home, I knew this would be my only chance to see Rosalie before leaving. We had a show in Seattle tomorrow night, and I didn’t want to force my boyfriends to cancel another performance just to stay where we weren’t wanted.
Amelia Fawn, catching her youngest daughter distracted, voiced her disapproval in a quiet tone, making Rosalie pout as she turned and faced the front. I swallowed the bitterness as my gaze shifted to the boy sitting next to her and his parents sitting on his other side while our parents flanked Rosalie’s right, keeping them together.
I would never forgive my parents for forcing a life on my sister that she didn’t want, and my parents would never forgive me for derailing the one she did.
“Go in peace,” Father Moore dismissed moments later, “glorifying the Lord by your life.”
I nudged Loren next to me, who’d fallen asleep, and he awoke with a loud snort that drew unwanted attention our way. I pushed air through my nose when I was recognized immediately. Now that Mass was over and they were done pretending to be God’s innocent children, the whispering and the stares began.
“What the hell is everyone staring at?” Loren griped.
It never took any of them long to notice much, which never seemed to work in my favor. I was still hoping to get out of this without having to come clean about my past. They knew I wasn’t innocent when they met me, but they had no idea just how much I had sinned.
“You’re not supposed to curse in a church, Lo,” Rich scolded.
Loren paid him no mind as he continued to look around. I stood up, smoothing down the brown, long-sleeved midi dress I carefully chose for the occasion, so he did too. Once the four of us were standing in the aisle, I waited near the narthex.
No way was I going near Father Moore or the chancel.
Standing here, I could almost feel the smear of anointing oil on my forehead while the pungent smell of olives never left me. Father Moore had used it to cure my “sickness” as I stood before distraught parents and the sons they’d brought with them for absolution.
My only regret had been not having the wisdom to give my body to a boy who deserved me, someone who would have stood by me as a friend or even just a hand to hold.
None of the nine who’d been there that night did.
As I waited for my parents and sister to reach us, I fought to push away the memories before my knees could collapse. I almost gave up and let the shame take hold when a large hand slipped into mine, tangling our fingers together.
I looked up and into the green gaze of Houston Morrow and knew he’d noticed the stares too.
Shrugging at the question in his eyes, I offered him a wry smile that wasn’t entirely a façade. I was used to being the outcast. I’d lived that way for two years until I was able to escape when I turned eighteen.
And I never would have looked back if it hadn’t been for my baby sister.
She’d been too young at the time to understand what was happening to me, but it didn’t change that she never abandoned me.
The last of Father Moore’s flock who weren’t intending to stay now that Mass was over and continue their prayers finally passed us.
I knew the moment Houston spotted my family because his hand tightened around mine ever so slightly.
Jericho was next to recognize my sister, and I could hear his soft swear even after just moments ago berating Loren for doing the same.
The bassist was last to notice them. His gaze skirted over my mother and father dismissively before landing on my sister as she approached with a very swollen belly and a diamond ring adorning her left hand.
She was only thirteen.
