Page 58 of The Cult

Holy. Fucking. Shit! Tobias was hung like a horse—and the head of his cock was pierced too.

I wiggled my hands, trying my best to free them from the restraint. I wanted to touch him. Worship him. My cock perked back to life at the sight of Tobias jacking his meat while his balls slapped against his thighs. I opened my mouth, hoping he’d feed me his dick, but he continued jerking. His eyes connected with mine, intensity blazing in them.

Three pumps later, his load gushed over my chest, some drops even finding my lips and chin. “Fuck!” he moaned, his eyes closed, his body convulsing in pleasure. Once his breathing was steady, he zipped his pants up and glanced at my body covered with our releases. He helped me stand, then his damp hands released me from his belt.

I reached for his face when I was free, but he swatted my hand away before I had a chance to kiss him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Tobias scaled the wall and waited for me at the top of the ledge.

Twenty-Five: Tobias

Islammed my door shut, not caring whether anyone heard. I’d completely lost my mind. I glanced at my dead-as-a-doorknob phone, tapping the blank screen, hoping the damn thing would come back to life. “Shit.” I needed a fucking charger, but how could I do that without letting Sterling know that I’d smuggled a phone into the compound? At least I was able to send Zero those images before it died on me.

I tucked the phone under my pillow before beelining to the bathroom for a well-needed shower, hoping to wash away any traces of Abel from my body. I could still smell him; the musky scent of his cock, the bleach-like scent of his spunk, and his fresh breath. Reliving my encounter with him awakened something inside me, beyond the lust pent up deep within. I stood under the cold spray of the shower, cooling the inferno ignited by the most unlikely person. I should feel guilty; remorse for fucking around with my best friend’s son. He’s Oliver’s kid, for Christ’s sake. But why did he feel so right?

No, Tobias. No more. I’d taken a few wrong turns with my mission to free Oliver’s family from this forsaken place, but those shenanigans stopped today. Before I couldn’t find my way back.

Shuffling coming from my room caught my attention. I turned the water off and listened. There was definitely someone inside. It’s fucking late. I’d probably woken the guards next door. That would teach me to control my anger and frustrations. I pulled the towel from the hook and wrapped it around my waist. My wet feet slapped on the floor and water dripped down my body, making puddles of my quick steps back to my room.

One of the guards—the short one with a smug face—was inside.

“What happened here?” he asked, pointing to the glassless window.

“Dunno,” I answered.

He studied my room in silence before his attention landed on my drenched body. He smirked; his gaze zoned in on my chest. His beady eyes danced with delight, widening and traveling down to my crotch. The fucker swallowed hard, dragging his tongue over his chapped lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, dashing to the drawer to grab a fresh pair of underwear.

“I heard a noise,” he answered. “I wanna make sure anyone who shouldn’t be here isn’t here.”

I ignored his insinuation. With my back still to him, I continued. “It’s just me, so you can get the hell out.”

Steps neared; I could feel his presence inches away from me. He smelled like cigarettes and a bad case of BO. He drew a deep breath and moaned. “Mmmm. What do you have over here?” His hand landed on my shoulder, but it didn’t stay there long.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I swatted his hand away and turned. The creep was rubbing his crotch with a sadistic grin on his face. I grabbed his neck and pinned him to the wall. “Fucking touch me again and I’ll rip your hand off.”

He slapped my hand to free himself from my grip, but he was no match for me. I had to give it to him though—he was strong for his small frame.

I released him and stepped back. “Get near me again and you’re dead,” I warned. He’d be lying on the floor and screaming in pain if we were in the real world. In The Creed, I had to play by their rules. Not for long, motherfuckers.

He chuckled, unaffected by my threat, which doubled my irritation. “You’re not my type anyway. I like ’em … young,” he concluded, like a bonafide perverted maniac, before stalking out of my room.

My blood boiled when I remembered how he’d eye-banged Abel on my first day in the cult. The prospect of any guy touching Abel, especially a psycho like him, made me see red. Touch him and you’re dead. I checked that my phone was still under my pillow, thankful the creep hadn’t found it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed my shoulders. No more messing around.

Insomnia arrived like an unwelcome guest crashing my brain. It only showed up when stress or anxiety decided to throw a party in my head, which was not often, since I made sure I didn’t expose myself to things I couldn’t control, but I’d done the exact opposite since I answered that phone call from Oliver. It had only gotten worse since I met Abel.

The night was as black as my mood, and every fucking creak in my shitty room felt like it was mocking me. I tossed and turned, trying to find a position that would grant me even a shred of comfort, but it was hopeless. My mind was a carnival, with every thought of escaping the cult with the Marshalls, the upcoming fight, and Abel racing around like a bunch of drunk clowns.

I hauled my sorry ass out of bed and shuffled over to the window. The room felt like a damn prison cell, and the walls seemed to be closing in on me. I took deep and steady breaths of fresh air coming from the broken window. I hope they don’t send someone to fix it.

The world outside was quiet, the kind of stillness that was so loud it was deafening. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying to drown out the worries in my head. But it was useless. Sleep was playing hard to get, and it was winning once again. All I could do was wait for the night to bleed into day.

By the time Sunday morning arrived, I’d spent the entire evening thinking about Abel. I was staring at the ceiling when one of the guards—one I didn’t recognize—opened my bedroom door without bothering to knock. “No training today,” he said.

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