Page 91 of Corrupt Obsession

He was so fucking tired of hearing her say that. He cut her off as he abruptly slammed himself inside of her, making her release a shrill scream that echoed around the chapel.

“I can’t what?” he whispered, fingers tightening around her throat as his demon howled in triumph. “I can’t fuck you in a church? I can’t make you want me?”

“I hate you!”

Her words skewered his heart. Despair and lust tangled in a devastating mix that decimated his control and his desire to be gentle. He abruptly straightened and gripped her hips.

“You better hope someone walks through that door and saves you,” he growled as he began to move in hard, brutal strokes that caused her whole body to jolt. “And puts us both out of our misery.”

He took what he wanted, what he needed, or he’d go insane. He didn’t hold back, couldn’t. Not after being so long without her. He dared God to take her from him, to deny him this after everything he’d sacrificed. He made Violet beg, cry, scream, and moan. He was certain this form of worship had never been practiced here, but he ensured if God was watching, it was memorable.

He wasn’t ready to come, but when she rippled around him, he almost went over the edge with her. He ground his teeth, fighting his response as she impaled herself on him, taking what she needed and shuddering in relief as he met her needs.

Unable to withstand another second, he flipped her on her back. He straddled her chest, knees pinning her arms on either side of her even though she was no longer fighting, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He gripped her cheeks and forced her mouth open. His jubilant shout echoed through the church as he spilled, as he defiled a place he’d once considered sacred, and accepted the fact that he was going to hell.

Violet stared up at him with glazed eyes. Needing to prolong the moment, he slid his dick in her mouth and released her cheeks. He was tense, waiting for her to bite, but he relaxed and stroked her hair when she sucked and let her tongue feather over the sensitive head.

“Good girl,” he husked.

That broke the spell. She went rigid beneath him and tipped her head to the side to expel his dick. She coughed and retched, but she’d already swallowed most of him, which is all he cared about. She began to buck and kick beneath him. He admired her for a few seconds before he rolled off her and collapsed behind Pastor Sonny’s wood podium.

Violet stumbled to her feet and wove drunkenly toward her clothes strewn on the steps, swiping at her face as she hastilydressed. He listened to her run out of the church and the loud bang as the heavy door slammed shut behind her.

He waited to be clobbered by those incipient emotions that had dogged him since he jacked off at church camp—shame, guilt, regret, remorse, fear, disgust. All he felt was warm satisfaction. Anyone could have come in and discovered them, but God hadn’t intervened. Maybe God hadn’t abandoned him after all.

His climax left him drowsy, but he had work to do. He forced himself to his feet and dragged his jeans up and fastened them. He made his way to a closet with cleaning supplies and grabbed a spray bottle and washcloth. He wiped up all signs of debauchery before he began to execute the task Pastor Sonny had entrusted to him.

When he made his way out to the truck with four paint cans, he saw Violet huddled in the front seat. She hadn’t been able to take off since he had the keys in his pocket and there was no one in the vicinity that she could ask for a ride. He propped the front door open as he loaded up lumber and the other building material they hadn’t used during the renovation. Tomorrow, they would be working on the McMillan’s house, members of the church who had a house in dire need of repair.

It took thirty minutes to load everything. By the time he joined Violet in the truck, the sun was beginning to set. He wasn’t surprised when Violet angled her body away from him. If she had allowed it, he would have drawn her against his chest and held her. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that it didn’t have to be this way, but he knew she wouldn’t listen.

He knew she was hating herself, hating him. That was her default whenever they came together. It didn’t matter how pleasurable and gratifying. She would always turn it into something amoral and twisted. She couldn’t admit that a part of her reveled in what they’d done.

As they made their way home, he wondered what Violet would say to their parents. Had fucking in church pushed her over the edge? Was that the final straw? He felt a burble of unease, but it couldn’t morph into true fear because of the overwhelming contentment that canceled out all else. His mind was empty, his inner turmoil gone. Possessing her in any capacity made him feel right, centered, whole. He refused to believe she didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t possible for such a connection to be one-sided. Their chemistry had been ordained by God. If she had loved him a fraction of how much he loved her, they could have conquered anything. Instead, she doomed them to lives where neither would ever be truly fulfilled.

When he pulled into the driveway, he glanced at Violet and waited to see if she had any last words for him before she decided his fate. She kept her face averted as she pushed open the door and hopped out. He ambled in her wake, hands in pockets.

As he expected, their parents hung around. Mom was still in the kitchen and Dad was in the living room. Both turned when they walked through the front door. Violet stopped in her tracks, clearly not anticipating this. He waited several seconds before he moved her inside so he could close the door.

“So?” Isaac prompted.

Mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her face still pinched with worry.

Violet was so rigid, she was trembling. He glanced down at her and saw her mouth open and eyes fill with tears.

“Violet?” Mom asked.

He curbed his arm around Violet’s shoulders and turned her into him a second before she burst into tears. His hand sank into her hair and kept her face pressed to his chest as he said, “She forgave me, but she’s still hurt and angry.”

Violet’s hand fisted in his shirt.

Mom’s expression eased slightly. “Forgiveness doesn’t take away the hurt, but it’ll pass.” Mom came up to them and rubbed Violet’s back. “Are you okay, honey? Want to talk about it?”

His hand dropped to Violet’s nape and squeezed. A second later, Violet shook her head.

“Violet helped me load up the truck. We’re a little dirty,” he said.

Mom nodded and stepped back. “Dinner will be ready in a half hour.”

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