His lips are brutal, and I can’t get enough. My tongue wars with his, but mine is a grazing offensive. A paltry defense to his overwhelming force. I give him what he wants, what I want. Like an animal, he senses when he’s won, when his prey has finally given in and given up, ready to offer up its own blood to the hungry victor. With a low growl he, presses his body into me, his clothed length hard against my bare center.
I press my legs against his hips, anything to ease the ache he’s stoked in me. His hands slide lower, and when he strokes my wet center, I moan. I can’t breathe, my world is spinning, but I don’t want this to stop. He thrusts against me, his cock aligned with my clit, his fingers rubbing my hot flesh and teasing at my entrance.
When he breaks our kiss, I inhale deeply. When he bites my neck, I can’t stop the obscene sound that flows from me.
“Again,” he grunts against me, then bites my shoulder, clamping down like an alligator. I want him to drag me down, to drown me in him. I run my hands through his wet hair as he licks his bite then sucks my throat. His fingers continue to tease. I roll my hips along with him, not caring that I’m getting my arousal all over his pants.
I drag my nails down his shoulders, but the gauze around his chest stops me from going farther. When I touch it, he freezes, as if that white strip is the third rail.
“Adam.” I don’t recognize my voice, or the girl pressed up against the wall who wants nothing more than to be dominated by the monster holding her close.
“Stop.” He puts me down and steps back.
The tension is back, his shoulders tight. Whatever world we’d just made together crumbles right in front of me.
“Ada—”
“Go to bed.” His voice is a steady snarl, but his eyes hungrily trace the lines of my body.
I step toward him, trying to get that connection back.
“Go.” He grabs my wrist and squeezes until it hurts. “Now.”
I wince and pull my hand away. He’s changed. The monster is back to the fore, his violence no longer promising pleasure.
Backing away, I keep my gaze on him as I slide under my blanket. He slams my bathroom door. A roar comes soon after and my wall shakes. I don’t dare get up. Not when he looked at me as if I were his enemy.
He opens the door right as a Spinner barges in.
“What was tha—”
“This was my fault.” He pushes past her, his shirt on but unbuttoned. “No punishment for Delilah or there’ll be hell to pay.” He disappears into the dormitory hall as the Spinner hurries into my bathroom.
“Oh, dear.” She wrings her hands. “The Prophet won’t care for this at all.”
I get up and follow her into the bathroom.
“Your dress.” She points.
Crimson hand prints appear at my hips like a grisly tie-dye.
But that doesn’t take my focus. My mirror is smashed, a bloody smear in the center of the shattered reflection. I stare, half of my face looking back at me, a crimson gash across the image.
Broken.
It’s what I saw in him earlier. His truth that echoed inside the darkest parts of my soul.
Just like me, he’s broken.
Chapter 17
Delilah
Training the next day comes with a new set of lessons. Ones that—even though I knew what the Cloister was—never occurred to me.
“Some men—” The Spinner walks back and forth in front of the group, a plastic sheet crackling under her feet. Her hands are clasped behind her back, the knuckles turning white. If I didn’t know better, I would think she’s nervous, perhaps uncomfortable. She clears her throat. “Some men prefer what is referred to as ‘water sports.’”
Half the maidens groan; the other half has no idea what she means. Now the plastic sheet makes sense. Jesus.
“In particular, the current governor of Tennessee, who is married to one of our former Maidens, is very much into this particular practice. It’s far more common among powerful men than you’d think.” She can’t seem to stop clearing her throat. “So, this is something that we need to add to our curriculum.”
“You want us to get peed on?” Susannah blurts.
“Susannah!” The Spinner stomps her foot on the plastic-covered wood floor, which makes only a dull thump noise. “You need to be in perfect obedience to your husband at all times. If this is what he requires, you must do it.”
“But what if I don’t?” Susannah adds sass to her tone.
I look around and, thankfully, the Head Spinner isn’t in the room. If she were, Susannah would already be yanked up and taking a beating.
The teaching Spinner turns red, her round cheeks seeming to expand. “If you aren’t in perfect obedience to your husband, you will get cancer, you will lose your ability to bear children, you will get fat, and your children will sicken and die. Any number of horrible outcomes can be thwarted if you are in perfect obedience to your husband.” She shakes her head in an attempt at motherly disapproval. “Being in harmony with your husband and obeying him in all things are the keys to living a happy, healthy life. And, as the Prophet teaches, the only way to enter His heavenly Kingdom.”