Shame of It All Page 14

  The silence from Marina was something I expected, but it lasted forever. I covered my mouth to stop her from hearing my strangled breath. If I broke down, I wouldn’t be able to recover. I had to remain strong to tell her the rest of my story to make her understand why I stayed far away from Cartleigh.

  “I can’t believe you’re telling me this bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you—”

  “You should be sorry. Why are lying?”

  Lying? She couldn’t think— “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Oh please. If you were raped, you wouldn’t be fucking your Russian sugar daddy.”

  She didn’t believe me. My best friend since I was five thought I was a liar. A surge of anguish, something I never experienced before, not even when Grandmother died, paralyzed me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing would come out. Marina had a solution for that as she railed at me.

  “Why so quiet? Because you know I’m right? You’re a piece of work, Pryce.”

  I flinched at her anger, her hate. She’d never called me by just my last name before. She did it to people she didn’t like. It was meant to be an insult, a curse.

  “Why don’t you believe me? Why would I lie to you?” I broke then, unable to stop my tears as they made the room blur. “What do I have to gain by lying to you?”

  “You’re jealous I’m the one respected in Cartleigh and who won Colt. You ran away and sold yourself—”

  “Stop right there. How did I sell myself? I’m not you.” We hadn’t been honest with one another for so long. It could break us both.

  “You bitch.”

  I expected more insults, but those two words were enough. She had constructed a wall, and no amount of pleading and explaining would fix our relationship that had been slowly deteriorating over the years.

  “You can think I’m a bitch, but it doesn’t change the fact Colt—”

  “Enough! You’ve done enough damage.”

  “Me? Damage to what? Our friendship or your fantasy about the man you’re going to marry? He’s a rapist!” I yelled, losing any control I had left.

  “You’re a cunt and whore. Fuck off and die.” She hung up.

  Bitch. Cunt. Whore. The worst of the worst insults a woman could call another woman. The use of the word fuck and to die as a command was just as ugly, but those didn’t hit me as hard. Shock at her not believing me covered the pain those words would eventually inflict. I was more concerned how she would react and if she would tell Colt what I told her.

  But I hadn’t told her everything. Just like Grandmother had been the only one who knew Colt assaulted me, she also was the only one who knew of the aftermath of his attack. Now Marina would be the second to know. I texted her what Colt had inflicted on me because of the rape and how I got rid of it.

  She never responded.

  A moment in time was so fleeting, so insignificant in the expanse of the universe. My rape…Grandmother’s death…and now this conversation about a horrible truth Marina denied had disappeared through the sands of time. They were gone even though we were stuck in the middle of it. The effects would remain until one of us died. As I lay on my bed in huddled misery, I almost wished for death because the pain was too much. I had been numb for so long that my distress was beyond any agony imaginable. The closest feeling I had experienced to what was happening to me now was when the doctor emptied me of the life growing inside of me that would always be a reminder of the horror Colt forced on me.

  Marina never called me back or texted. I lay on my bed, sobbing freely. It wasn’t cathartic. All it did was make me ache, the pain all consuming. I was so lost in anguish I didn’t answer when Yakim rang the doorbell and then called my cell. He had a key and let himself in from the way he called out my name. He eventually found me in my bedroom.

  “Milost, what in the world has happened?” He rushed to me, and even before he sat next to me, I pulled him down and cried in his neck. He wrapped his arms around me and tried to calm me in Russian, but I was inconsolable. I fisted my fingers in his jacket and rubbed my forehead on the fabric.

  “You’re worrying me. What has happened?” He cupped my face, making me see him and not hide.

  “Marina called me. She’s getting married to the mayor of Cartleigh, my hometown.”

  “You’re upset because she’s getting married?” His frown made the lines around his mouth stand out.

  “The man she’s marrying…” I closed my eyes as a rush of tears fell from them. I trusted Yakim with so much, but I had yet to tell him my darkest secrets. “He’s the one—” I gulped in air, gasping as the pain twisted my stomach and chest.

  “What did this man do to you?” He fisted his hands in my hair and brought me in close until we were practically one.

  “His name is Colton, the man I told you about back in college when you spent the night with me. He was the one who raped me when I was seventeen, the day after we graduated high school.” I clamped my hands around his wrists, holding him as he trembled, in what I hoped was shock and not rage at me. “He got me pregnant and, a few weeks before I went to college, I had an abortion.” I tried to escape from his clutches, but he kept me imprisoned. I hung there like a worm on a hook until he loosened his hold and curled his arms around me again while he lay with me on the bed.

  He shed many tears with me that night. Then again forty-eight hours later when I found out Marina was dead.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Catholics were a funny group. They loved to paint Bible verses or inspirational quotes on walls. The basement of St. Anthony’s was filled with them. But the meditation/prayer room only had one on the righthand wall when you entered the space. John 1:9: If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness was the first thing one saw.

  Many who came here for reflection most likely found the quote motivating. I found it patronizing and judgmental. Most religions did, but the Catholic faith was in a group all its own. But I didn’t come here after Sunday Mass for reflection or to ask for forgiveness from the crucifix hanging on the wall behind the small altar. I had a purpose but not a higher calling from God. I had a plan, to wait for Colt to come to me. He had watched me covertly from the second row while I sang with the choir. He didn’t bother to hide his lust and want even with his parents sitting next to him or the others who saw him as clearly as I did. But he had acted the same when we were in high school. Strange how no one seemed to notice or figure it out back then. The same would apply here as history would repeat itself but only the start. The end would be completely different this time around.

  It didn’t take him long to find me. He stood in the doorway, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I threw him a glance over my shoulder. He then entered but closed the door and locked it. Interesting the door that was open to all could be locked from the inside. Gone was any alone time in this room where so many before me had been to meditate or reflect on their lives. They probably prayed for peace or forgiveness. I would do neither. It looked like Colt would do the same.

  “You don’t care you’re interrupting my special time with our lord and savior Jesus?” I indicated Jesus hanging on the cross in front of the stained glass window. It didn’t make much sense why there would be a stained glass window that wasn’t really a window. A fallacy to lull people into a sense of calm?

  “You were in a hurry to leave after Mass.” He sat next to me but didn’t press his thigh to mine. “Nice dress.”

  The dress was a baby-blue floral-print ruffle. I wore it not just because it showed off my attributes in a way that would attract Colt, but it gave me an air of innocence. I didn’t want to slut it up too much in church just to excite him. I wanted the public to believe I was decent and respectable since I was the spokesperson for Alzmeya.

  “You followed me here.” I kept a neutral tone, unbothered by his appearance.

  “I wanted to talk to you about last Friday.” He shifted toward me
and hung his arm over the back of my chair. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. How are you?” I viewed the cascading rock waterfall next to a mini altar. The tinkling water was soothing even with Colt’s fake concern eating up the acoustics of the small space.

  “Confused honestly.” He tapped the top of the chair, close enough to touch my back.

  “Because I let you go down on me in a bathroom?” I straightened in my chair. Let him think I was uncomfortable around him. It would give him the confidence to be aggressive. I needed him that way for what I wanted him to do to me in this room. It wasn’t chance I ended up here. The only surprise was him locking the door.

  He stopped his tapping and his leg met mine. I guess I should have used a sharper tone. I sounded too unsure, almost spent, as if I had weakened around him because of the sex act I let him do to me.

  “Don’t you think we should talk about it considering our…relationship?”

  I expected him to remain cocky. Maybe he was frustrated because I didn’t return the favor. But he’d had to take care of business on his end afterward because why would he walk around with his cock hard for all to see? Unless he wanted me to take care of it for him? Now that he had a taste of me, he would want more. I had made certain he would.

  That made me smile, erasing the annoyance brewing inside me. He could be manipulative, but I didn’t think it was planned on his part, unlike me who always had a plan when it came to him.

  “If you want to talk, you wouldn’t have locked the door. You would have waited for me to leave and asked if we could talk someplace else. Perhaps your house?” I shot him an amused glance and moved in front of the altar to watch the light shimmer in the stained glass.

  “I have thirty minutes until brunch with my family. I wanted to ask you if we could talk later. But then I saw you walk to the basement, and I couldn’t help myself.” He came up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders, pulling me to him. He brushed his lips along the side of my face where my hair covered my ears.

  “Have you ever been in here with another woman with the door locked?” I gripped the edge of the altar and rubbed his front. I was tempted to stroke him, but I wasn’t ready to push him yet.

  “Never. This room isn’t meant for that.” His breathing deepened.

  “I bet others have used this room for things besides praying. Some say sex is as close to heaven as you can get. That is, great sex.” I turned and faced him, pressing my back into the altar.

  He wiped his upper lip, moist with sweat. The room grew warm when only seconds ago it had been cooler. Strange how a person’s arousal could change the temperature in a room.

  “What are you doing?” He lowered his arms to his sides and stared at me with a combination of confusion and need, and from his stance and reaction, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not being in control even though he could overpower me at any time.

  Mind over matter was a wonderful thing, and I had that and more with this fool. Knowing he couldn’t hurt me like he did years ago made me extremely confident and brazen. What I wanted to happen in some secret corner of the church or even in a confessional, which was a naughty fantasy of mine, would happen here.

  I tugged on his tie and, twirling my hair, I boosted up to sit on the altar, spreading my legs far enough to hike up my dress. “I’m not in the mood to talk right now. We can talk later after you take me to brunch.”

  He snorted and shook his head, his gaze on something behind me, which could have been the crucified Jesus or the glass. Whatever he saw didn’t affect him or make him reconsider his next move. He shifted in closer to stand in between my legs and grip my thighs.

  “Before I give you more of what I did to you on Friday night, I want you to kiss me.” He blew on my forehead for some reason.

  I rubbed my forehead and then scratched it. His breath was not wanted, not because his breath smelled bad, but I wasn’t ready to kiss him yet. We weren’t at that level where I would let him take possession of my mouth yet.

  “I’m not ready to kiss you.”

  “But you let me fuck you with my mouth.” He ran the tips of his fingers up my thighs, not quite digging in my skin but just enough pressure to make me sensitive.

  “Ah-ah, language, Mr. Mayor. You’re in a place of worship.” I loosened his tie and scraped the side of his throat with my nail. He exhaled and clasped my thighs tighter.

  It was a good thing I was in control of the situation. He wasn’t no matter how much he used his strength or body to try and overpower me like he did at the lake. I bolted down any memories so I could stay on my current course. If my body shut down or denied him, all my plans would be ruined. He had to stick his dick in me here to move to the next steps.

  I wouldn’t kiss him on the mouth, but I would lay my lips on him elsewhere. I shifted toward him and pressed my mouth to the side of his throat I had scratched, licking his skin. He jerked and curled his fingers around my waist.

  “We should stop. Anyone could walk in here.” His breathlessness pleased me. We wouldn’t leave until he fucked me.

  “You locked the door. You wanted to get frisky with me here.” I swept my hand down his front and grasped his erection.

  He froze and let me manipulate him. If he came in his pants, it would be embarrassing for both of us, or so he would believe. If he thought I would get on my knees like I was praying and give him a blow job, he would be sorely disappointed. He didn’t deserve my mouth on his cock just yet. I would tease him a little before I lowered to a subservient position. But I still held all the power with my seduction techniques.

  He rocked in my palm and began to unzip his pants. His black briefs molded to his penis, which was pleasantly plump. His bulge was adequate enough for what I wanted. I would give him the compliment but even though he was adequately endowed, it all came down to how he used it.

  “I have a condom in my purse. Unless you have one on you?” I flicked his bulge and then sat back on my palms.

  “You always carry condoms?” He glanced at the door and then at the crucifix.

  If he had a crisis of faith because he was worried fucking me on church grounds was a sin, I would end up in hysterical laughter. Even if we did get caught, which most likely would be by Father Chavis, it wouldn’t matter because of how deep he was with Colt. The mayor’s reputation would stay intact.

  Growing impatient, I jerked up my skirt and took off my panties. I tossed them at his face. He caught them, staring at the crucifix as if it had thrown my underwear at him instead. I lay on the table and pressed my feet down, giving him an incredible view he wouldn’t be able to resist.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. While he searched for the condom in my purse, I assumed, I rubbed my inner thighs and vagina while I unbuttoned the top of my dress and opened it. The strapless bra made it easy for me to uncover my breasts and pluck at my nipples to make them stiff. I usually didn’t play with myself like this to ready for sex since I always had someone to do it for me, but I had to work harder for Colt.

  “You must have forgiven me because no woman in their right mind would do this.” He came back to stand in front of me, his face redder than before and his shirt wrinkled. His jacket and tie were missing, and his pants rode low on his hips. I didn’t glance at his cock encased in latex. I didn’t care what it looked like. Just what it felt like. This time would be very different from the last.

  “I guess I should be honored I’m the first woman you’re fucking in here.” I moaned without much thought when he curled his hands under my thighs and brought me to him. Let him think I was completely aroused because of him and not the environment.

  His cock landed on my vagina, and he cursed. “How can you be this wet?” He pressed his palm there, making his cock slide upward toward my clitoris. I jerked at the sensation and moaned again.

  “Take me.” I arched back and squeezed my breasts, staring up at the light overhead until I saw black spots. I closed my eyes and let my body take over.

&nb
sp; He slid inside me easily, and I clenched down on him. He groaned my name and rocked once but then stopped. I grabbed his head and moved him down on me, offering him one of my breasts to suck. He took the offering, using too much teeth. The slight pain excited me, and I locked my legs around him and joined him in his pumping.

  I never locked eyes with him or shared tender words. He went to work on me, lost in his own bubble of pleasure. His biggest fault was being too involved in one thing and not noticing everything else around him. I always noticed everything, meaning my surroundings. While he pleasured himself with me, I let him think I was all in with him, not that he would have noticed if I wasn’t. When the spot behind my eyelids vanished, I opened them and sat up, embracing him while he pummeled me. Staring past his shoulder, I caught the red blinking light in the far corner of the room and waved.

  Knowing we were recorded pushed me over the edge and let me climax before he did.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “You’re the type of woman who prefers to sit at the bar instead of at a table,” Senator Hahn said after he ordered another mimosa from the bartender.

  He was correct. I preferred bars because of their position. A bar had more height and an openness a table didn’t, especially if you dined with a large party or your partner invaded your space. Colt had done that too obviously during brunch with his family and friends, such as Karine and her family. They were all polite with the exception of Agnes who barely hid her disgust toward me. Her devotion or crush or whatever she had for Colt was pathetic.

  “Are you the type who prefers the bar, or are you more comfortable surrounded by people at a table, Senator?” I sipped my glass of Riesling. After today’s events, I was ready to go home and drink another bottle of the wine Yakim had sent me this week. I was anxious to call him.