Page 63 of That Sik Luv

And running from me is an undertaking she’ll never achieve.

Chapter thirty-two

Beautiful Blackmail

Iwatchinsilence,collecting myself, as he pulls black gloves from his back pocket.

They just appear, as if this man called them to be.

Grabbing a cloth from somewhere in the dark corner of the confessional, he cleans the gun, wiping it down before placing it near the now deceased deacon who tried to murder me.

Two people.

Two bodies that I know of.

Aero has blood on his hands because of me, and nothing drove me more to the point of absolute lust than this disturbing realization.

He is my protector. My teacher. My source of the absolute pleasure I’d been taught was the end to my eternal salvation. The kind I’d never known until him. I’m still figuring out all that is the masked man who has seemingly come into my life overnight, but this display of unabashed obsession has me overcome with emotion. Emotions I shouldn’t feel for someone I know nothing about. I hate that I like it.

“They’re going to know someone did this. The bullets, the trail...it will come back to us...” I mutter nervously behind him, readjusting my skirt.

My nerves have my stomach twisting into a knot. He stills with his back towards me as I take in his tall, broad form in the shadows, his clothing stretched to accommodate his sculpted shoulders and the toned musculature of his back. He’s really an intimidating man when standing over you the way he does, all dark and imposing, but even so, I feel I can push him in a way few people get the chance to do.

The whole stint using Saint’s name in my confession... He wasn’t wrong, I was protecting him, but in the same breath, I got a rise out of the maddening jealousy he seemed to portray. Saint gets under his skin like no other, and the reasons for that are entirely unclear.

He seems to own this claim to me that I don’t understand. I can’t say I’m ready to let this man take what he wants from me anymore, even if I’ve grown to crave the feeling of his thick, veiny organ inside me, that piercing coaxing out orgasms from the very base of my core.

This sex, or whatever it is we’re doing...it’s mind-blowing. It’s otherworldly. It’s indescribable. It’s a strange release of this tension I’d built over the years, contemplating if I was sick in the head, sinful, or destined for despair. Indecent thoughts plagued me since his arrival, as if he opened the gates to sexuality as a whole. Aero makes me feel like the expression of the sex between us is innate, entirely natural, and completely necessary, like the oxygen we breathe.

I should feel guilty about my transgressions. I should yearn to confess and work towards finding Christ and the light again, seeking his forgiveness. But the worst sin I’ve committed was not feeling guilty for my sins. I knew I was destined for damnation, and this deranged part of me was okay with that. I’d accepted it in exchange for the pleasure my physical body had found. The trembling and the light reverberating hum of the excited energy that flowed through my veins at his touch; it was a glimpse of the wonders of the Holy Kingdom right here on earth. A virtuous life, wasted at the promise of a Heaven I’d found so easily obtainable.

He turns towards me in the small space, and I squint to see the black paint smeared across his face, noting the dishevelment of his dark hair hanging down across his forehead. His eyes sharpen to slits, his disposition entirely cold, as he grips the hoodie of his black sweatshirt and tosses it over his head. Grabbing a bag from the corner I hadn’t seen before, he slings it across the front of his chest.

I can still feel his cum dripping out of me, sticking to my thighs, seeping from the confines of my damp underwear. It’s entirely impure. It’s dishonorable. It’s twisted, indecent, and yet, these reasons are what bring the appeal.

“We need to go,” he demands.

I release a sigh, frustrated at his lack of explanation for anything, but nod anyway. I have to put my trust in him at the moment, as much as I don’t want to.

He leads me by my wrist with his large, glove-covered hand, back out of the confessional and towards the Sacristy, the preparation room where only the clergy or altar boys come to dress in their robes and other relics remain. Just the fact that he knows his way around this place so well has me filled with endless questions.

“A guy...” I say, pausing in place behind him, pulling my wrist from his grasp as he continues trying to lead me through the room. “A guy saw me when we came in here. I’m the last known person to have seen the deacon!”

Slowly, he cracks his neck while facing away from me. Back and forth, his head rotates from side to side as his fist presses against his chin until I hear the popping of his frustration. He turns to glare at me over his shoulder. A single hazel eye burns through the smeared black paint on his face, searing through me, with the heat of a ruthless killer. Disgust, disappointment, and detestation emit from him, the direct look, causing me to swallow and take a step back.

“You have no idea who I am and what I’m capable of,” his gravel timbre vibrates within my chest.

I shrink into myself, my chest heavy and my legs weakened. His statement fills me with terror of that unknown he speaks of.

“But—"

“Now shut the fuck up and follow me,” he says through gritted teeth.

He’s just such a sweet and caring soul.

I shake it off, and unfortunately, put my trust in the only person I can. Walking behind him, that thought marinates in my mind.The only person I can trust.

Aero is entirely calculated, his past a complete mystery. Either he gives me more of him, or I’ll be forced to act out recklessly in defiance, like a child, attempting to get some answers for myself. It seems my only option at this point. He needs me to go along with his plans, assumes I will blindly trust him. But this man has another thing coming if he thinks I’m just going to continue down this unknown road without so much as a last name from him.

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