Page 308 of Rage

I step forward, crowding into his space. He freezes, like he always does when I get this close, and sucks in a breath through his teeth when I lift the front of the stupid robe he wears to signify his position in the church. He's a glorified altar boy, all too happy to let the church take advantage of his time and talents for the good of the congregation and ministry.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I slip my hands under the robe and tuck his cock back into his pants, then zip and button his fly. His lips part when I give his crotch a little pat, like it's been a good boy. Then I surge forward to kiss him. He gasps as I take his mouth with mine, whimpering when I force my tongue inside and feed him the mouthful of his own cum I've been holding just for him.

"You taste so sweet," I murmur against his lips, rubbing my erection against his thigh, letting him feel how hard he makes me. "Do you feel what you do to me?" He whimpers again, and my cock throbs. I fucking love the desperate, terrified little noises he makes. "I'm not done with you, sweet boy. Come find me after the service."

"We have th-the potluck. And the youth group is?—"

"—going to go sing worship songs at the old folk's home. Yeah, I know." I pull back, rubbing my thumb across his wet, swollen bottom lip. "But I want these pretty lips around my cock, and I can't wait too long. Find me, or I’ll find you."

Adam's pupils grow darker, then he flinches and looks away when he hears the bell announcing communion. He straightens and smooths down his robe, trying not to look directly at me as he picks up the tray and makes his way towards the stage and pulpit where Pastor Reynard waits for him. Before he disappearsfrom sight, he turns his head and nods curtly. The look of uncertainty and his flushed cheeks make my cock jerk.

On my way out, I stop in the lobby to check my reflection. What I see reminds me why I'm here, and my eyes dim. The way hers have. Because of what that monster did to her.

Maybe it's unfair to use someone as soft and sweet as Adam to get my revenge. If I were a better person, I'd feel bad. But whatever good I had inside me has been swallowed by pain and anger. From the moment I saw Adam watching me, I knew I had my target. My way in.

Senator Havre has to suffer for what he did. And I'm going to use his sweet, stupid son to expose his sins to the world.

Chapter Two

Adam

Potluck Sundays are my favorite. After church, everyone comes together in the recreation hall, arms laden with dishes to share. It's usually casseroles. I love casseroles. They're like comfort on a plate, happiness and love in a baking dish, warmed to share with others. And no one, and I mean no one, makes better casseroles than southern church ladies. It's common knowledge.

I don't even care how hard I'm going to have to hit the gym tomorrow, I make sure to get a little bit of each and every dish that the women of our congregation have set out buffet style. It's probably a little gluttonous, but I don't skip even one dish. What if sweet Mrs. Kelse asks me how I liked her cheesy potato bake, and I didn't have any of it? It's not like I could lie to her, and I couldn't bear to hurt her feelings. Surely my gluttony is justified if I’m trying to make others happy.

With a heavily laden plate of delicious comfort food, I make my way across the room to find somewhere to sit. I avoid my father’s judgmental stare from the front of the room, where he is sitting with Pastor Reynard and the other church officials, like he normally does. As an upcoming member of the clergy, I should probably go sit with them. They probably expect meto. But the youth group is close to my heart. And Levi is here somewhere…

My mouth dries up when I see him sitting at a long table towards the back of the room. He's talking to Leah, a girl in our youth group who is a few years younger. She's petite and gorgeous, with tanned skin and long, dark hair that reaches her waist. Thick, dark eyelashes frame her amber eyes. It's a sharp contrast to Levi's wavy blond locks and bright blue eyes. Sometimes I think everything about him is made of light. God's light.

Seeing him always makes me feel strange. You'd think I'd be used to him by now, but my skin tingles whenever he's near me. I don't see anyone but him until I notice his hand on Leah's back. They're leaning their heads together, whispering like they have a secret. She seems upset. Levi is down on a knee next to her chair, rubbing her back.

"Leah? Are you okay?"

She sniffs and looks up at me, then shares a look with Levi. Like they know something I don't.

Levi clears his throat and resumes rubbing her back. I barely hear what he's saying through the blood rushing in my ears as my eyes zero in on the casual way he touches her. I have to shake my head out of it, remembering that he's trying to comfort the younger woman.

"Leah's mother is being deported. It's the same issue Mr. Alba had," he says solemnly.

Leah's father had to move back to Guatemala a couple of years ago because of an issue with his work visa.

I look at Leah. "How is that possible? You were born here. Doesn’t that mean your parents can stay?”

Leah shakes her head. “That’s not how it works.”

“That seems wrong.”

Leah scoffs and stands up, wiping her face. Her back straightens. “Why don't you ask your father about it?"

What does that mean? I glance over to my father's table, noticing the way he watches Leah flee the room. I can't quite read the expression on his face from here, but my stomach clenches all the same. He has never been as welcoming to the Alba family as he should, never giving them the same kindness and respect as the other members of our congregation.

One of the few times I've ever talked back to my father was around the time that Mr. Alba was deported. I was still in high school, and my father had made an offhanded comment about having “illegals” in the congregation. Considering we have very few church members of color, it wasn't hard to guess what family he was referring to. I'd mentioned that they were good people, hard workers, and active members of the church. He told me I was too young to understand how this country works and gave me a lecture about how illegal immigration was harmful to the economy and dangerous for crime rates.

The Albas were here legally, paid taxes, and were upstanding members of our community. When I pointed that out, he brushed me off as disrespectful and sent me to my room to pray for forgiveness and understanding that he was protecting our way of life. After all, shouldn't I defer to him, as both the head of our household and an elected representative of the government, to make the right choices for us?

I prayed on it, but I never came to the conclusion he wanted me to. Instead, my prayers led me to find quiet ways to help the Alba family where I could. Including writing a letter of recommendation to the university that I recently graduated from. With Leah's excellent grades and extra-curricular work that she does with our youth ministry, she was offered a full scholarship. What happens to that scholarship if her mother's immigration status is challenged, or if her mother has to leavethe country before she graduates high school this year? Will she have to leave too? She doesn't have any other family in the states that I'm aware of, and she's only seventeen.

My father's disapproving gaze locks on mine, and I force some pleasantry into my steely expression. I nod in his direction, and he smiles. A little hope unfurls in my chest.

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