Page 40 of At Her Will

She understood why he was here, not just to seek guidance for his own pain, but for the suffering of others. He saw their isolation, pushed past and through it, took that feeling of being lost, alone and desolate, and tossed it aside for the lie it was.

But it could overwhelm him, as it would anyone. When he raised his head and she looked up at him, she touched his face. He gazed at her through wet eyes, his mouth firm and soft at once under her fingertips.

“Money and power, they not evil,” he said. “But a man’s soul can get sick and let them become a poison. Don't have to be a lot of money or a lot of power, just a lot in his world.”

His mind was on his aunt and cousin, she knew, but she stayed silent, listening.

Rev looked down at her hand, clasped between his. “We lost a kid last year because he had twenty dollars in his pocket from mowing a yard. Another group of kids beat him to death for it, but that wasn't why they did it. They beat him for not joining their gang, for showing them they didn’t have to be that, didn’t have to take what wasn’t earned. They wrote $20 on his forehead.”

She closed her eyes. She knew the kind of helplessness he was feeling. She and the other TRA women felt it whenever they couldn’t get someone in desperate circumstances to come to Laurel Grove or one of its sister shelters.

"Witford…he's a good preacher,” Rev said. “He want to be a great one, but he don’t realize that’s not what they need. He just needs to care about the people and let God guide him to the lessons He needs to talk to them about.

“He's gotten to be about Witford, standing over them on that pulpit, having people shake his hand, consider him important. We're only important as God’s instrument, and He gives us the gift of being important to those we love.”

Rev sighed. “Guess that can be one of my singing sermons, but how do I sing it to Witford so he hear? I don’t know, but hopefully God will know and tell me.”

She pressed her head to his shoulder, gripped his arms, a silent wish for the same. “Is it okay that I’m here?” she asked at length, lifting her head.

His beautiful lips curved and he touched her cheek, rubbing the tear track there. “I’d like to kiss this, hold onto it in my mouth, Mistress. Is that all right?”

At her assent, he leaned in, touched his lips there. Her fingers tightened on his biceps. “You’re going to give me impure thoughts,” she said.

He drew back and looked at her seriously. “Nothing impure about the way you make me feel, or the way I make you feel. Our bodies linked to our heart and soul. Can’t you feel it? I kiss your skin, and think about kissing more of it, all over, being inside you like I was the other day, and my heart hurts wanting to be that close to you again. You made it…sacred, that energy you were talking about. The way it’s meant to be.”

Rev was a devout, loving, balanced soul. He was also a powerful male who desired a woman and had no shame in the way he felt that desire. It made her all the more determined to be his Mistress. And thank the Lord and Lady, God, the Powers-that-Be, for the gift.

“Yes. Sacred.” Her lips tipped up. “Yet it feels so good it almost feels indulgent. What your people might call sin.”

“My people?” His eyes glinted at her teasing, then he sobered. “Sin don’t feel good. Not really. Not if your heart’s open to what’s right. Everything about touching you feels good, Mistress. Why’d you come to me here?”

“Something you said. About needing to get your head in the right place.” She held onto him tighter. “I’ve been thinking…have you ever thought I can be the person you can come find when you feel that way?

“I’m not trying to compete with a Power that knows way more than me,” she added, looking around them. “This is a way to get your head right with God. I just…you can have an earthly version of getting your head right with yourself. Someone to lean on when you need it. A Mistress can be that.”

“For a submissive like me.”

Because the typical interpretation of the word implied bad things about manhood or strength, the ability to protect and care for others, most men with a submissive orientation avoided the direct characterization, at least at first. But she wasn’t surprised that Rev had accepted it. He understood what surrenderingcontrol meant, and knew it wasn’t weak at all, not when done willingly, with that open heart.

“Teena Joy said nothing gives the Lord as much joy as giving Him your trust.” Rev appeared to have read her mind. “She said she thought that might be the source of His strength, our trust in Him.”

He helped her onto the bench, and slid his hands over her knees, removing tiny bits of gravel. “You could have scraped your pretty knees on that concrete.” He leaned in and kissed each one, his fingers lingering.

“Rev.”

He chuckled. His face still showed signs of weeping, but the contrast with his sensual teasing made her heart tilt. He glanced at the angel. “You two have the same look on your face, like you about to scold me.”

She pressed her lips against a smile and clasped his hands. He put his head on her knuckles, his wide shoulders a platform she could rest her free palm on. It wasn’t enough. She leaned forward to put her cheek on the back of his head, and then he turned it so her hair brushed his face and he could inhale her scent, his back expanding from the deep breath.

“What you said earlier, about inviting me to your home,” he said. “Is that invitation still open?”

“It is.” She straightened, and he did the same, looking at her.

“Then I’d like to take you up on it. Just for a night,” he added. “I won’t take advantage of you.”

“It never crossed my mind that you would.” She leaned back in. “But I intend to take full advantage of you.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

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