Page 43 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

"I need to get home."

"No, you don't."

"But I need my things. I have to take a shower and change my clothes."

"I have a shower and all your clothes."

The clothes are things he bought because it's what he likes. He never asked if I liked any of the items. Most of the them I would only see once they were delivered. He selected everything and then he pulled out his credit card, and that was it, except for Madam's boutique. My cheeks flame when I think of what happened inside the fitting room. It's not that I'm ungrateful for all the nice things he purchased. It's why he bought them–– for me to be his show pony. The same way my father has me dressed up to attend his parties or when I have partaken in his games, like sleeping with Draven because my mother slept with his father and had to act like I wanted it. It's all just a bunch of mind-fuck games.

We reach a black double gate with three cameras looking down on a white pillar surrounded by tall hedges on each side. There is a screen on a call box, but it must recognize the car because the gates suddenly open when the vehicle gets close enough. When the car pulls through the long-curved driveway, there is a two-story mansion with gas-powered lamps. The house looks modern but with a hint of warmth. Sophisticated like the man.

"Is this your home?"

"Yes."

"It's beautiful."

It is. The house is white with black accents and clear glass doors that allow you to see the foyer. Seven garage doors are to the left, and each side has those beautiful gas lamps with a single flame burning.

"Thank you," he finally says, placing the car in park.

I reach the side of the door, trying find the latch to open it, but by the time I see it, the door is pulling away from me when he opens it.

Following him inside through the double glass doors, I inhale and smell the hint of spice belonging to him mixed with a vanilla scent. I imagine I'm sitting out back with the view of a cozy beach with fluffy blankets and the sun setting on the horizon.

The farther you walk inside, the vibe of the house changes. It's like the entrance and living room is a mirage, and the farther you go, the darker it gets inside the English-style gothic home with its high, vaulted ceilings and an imposing staircase that spirals upwards like a twisted spine. Opaque, polished oak panels line the walls, contrasting the pale marble flooring beneath. An oversized, ornate chandelier hangs above, casting dramatic shadows across the room. A massive antique mirror dominates one wall, its tarnished surface reflecting the past and the present.

When we reach the master bedroom, it's a sanctuary of luxury and gloom, with a four-poster bed draped in rich velvet curtains and a canopy of dark lace. Moonlight filters through the draped windows, casting a silvery glow on the inky walls. A glimpse inside the en-suite bathroom features a claw-footed tub and a vanity adorned with antique mirrors. A shiver runs down my spine when my eyes linger on the bathtub.

"The bathroom is through that door," he says, but I stay rooted to the spot and gaze at him with wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

"D-do you have a shower…please," I stammer.

He looks in the bathroom, where the tub is trying to lure me in to remind me of how I could pay for my sins, and slides his gaze back to me and nods. He walks inside, and I’m relieved when I see the modern rain shower with a digital screen mounted on the tiled wall.

"Towels are in the towel warmer."

I wait until he leaves and place my bag on the counter, looking at the smudges under my eyes from my mascara running and stringy dark hair badly in need of a wash. Wiping my face with a tissue, I turn the shower on, press the buttons on the screen, and look up when the water comes down like rain. It must have activated the music to turn on because "Concrete Jungle" by Bad Omens begins to play softly, and I smile.

I pour shower gel into my palm from the dispenser nailed to the dark tile and wash my body, basking in the warmth of the water and the clean, fresh scent of his soap. How could anyone skip a shower?

A breeze of cold air slides over my skin, causing my nipples to pebble, and I turn to Alaric walking naked inside the expansive shower. "I expected you to use the tub. I always use the shower, but I don't mind."

I want to scream at him and tell him to get out and give me privacy, but I can't. I have no choice but to eventually be his until my time is up and I graduate, or he tires of me. Usually, I play a game my father wants me to star in, and since Gia and Jess showed up, I have turned over a new leaf and prefer to play a game where the innocent win. But this is different.

I stand against the wall watching him under the spray while "Concrete Jungle" by Bad Omens gives way to "Bad Decisions" by Bad Omens and finish washing my body slower than necessary.

He plants his hands above his head on the tile, leaning forward and letting the water run down his perfectly muscled back and trim waist, his tattoos glistening under the bathroom's light. He has ink everywhere, in places I've never seen before. On his neck and shoulders, it stops on some parts and begins on others. Some are scriptures from the Bible; others are skulls and angels. I pause and linger on his impressive cock between his muscled thighs. He’s long and thick with a barbell through the tip. I don't think he had it before, or I would have felt something like that the first time.

I have to admit that I'm aroused. I'm wet and want nothing more than to slide my fingers between my thighs and pleasure myself. It's been a while since I touched myself.

"Do you like what you see?" he asks, bending his elbows and turning his head to look at me.

I slide my hands down my stomach slowly until I reach the lips of my pussy, washing myself with my eyes closed, letting the water rinse me off. I moan while I rub my clit, not caring if he’s watching. It’s bold, but this is all I could do without walking over there and touching his thick, long cock, stroking it in my hands, prepping myself for when I take it inside my body. How well will it fit now? I was an inexperienced virgin the first time, but now I could take him fast and hard.

"Do you like what you see?" I say breathlessly, throwing back his own words. Taunting him. I don't know why I say it. Acting like a different person for so long just stuck and became as natural as breathing.

I suddenly feel heat, and something soft touching me. My eyes pop open, and he's so close I see the tip of his hard cock on my lower belly. He pins me to the shower wall with his body, and my fingers stop rubbing myself, staring wild-eyed into the storm of his gray eyes.

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