“I’m pretty sure the Spinner is going to lose her shit when she sees—” I gesture toward my face before dropping my too-tired arm back to the bed.
He rises and zips up his pants, then snatches his shirt from the floor. “You don’t need any of that shit.”
I smile, my lips swollen from his rough kisses. “Did you just compliment me?”
He smirks and runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, and I’ll do it a second time. I’m going to take that perfect, tight ass again the first chance I get. So be ready.” He walks into the bathroom, then returns with a warm washcloth. “I hate to do this.” He swipes at my ass, cleaning me, his voice barely a whisper. “You should always have some of me in you, on you, fucking everywhere.” He bites my shoulder, then rises. “Clean the rest of it up yourself,” he says loud enough for any listening device to hear and tosses the wadded washcloth on the floor with a smirk.
Whatever storm raged inside him is quiet now. His easy confidence is back, the usual darkness, the quiet air of control. I did that. Am I the music that can calm the beast?
Without a goodbye, he strides from the room. A few gruff words in the hall sends my Spinner rushing back inside. I sit up, and her gaze travels over the love bites on my neck and my breasts. She tsks and kneels, collecting the bits of the makeup kit.
I stare at the door long after he’s gone, wondering about the tempest that blew him to my bed.
Will I ever know what makes him tick?
Chapter 10
Adam
Christmas music wafts through the foyer of the Prophet’s home, and dignitaries mill about. The Christmas Eve bonfire draws the filth of the earth like moths. Senators, governors, CEOs—they’re all here drinking and carousing in the hour before the ceremony is set to start.
“And this is my son, Adam.” My father pulls me into a conversation he’s having. “Adam, this is Senator Roberts.”
I force a smile and shake hands with the man. He’s mid-thirties and trim. I’m certain I’ve seen him before.
“Nice to meet you. Your father is truly a man of God. And I’ve learned some new, Biblical teachings during my visits to the Chapel here at Heavenly.” He grins broadly at his too on-the-nose joke.
“We’re glad to have you.” I keep the fake smile, and it works, because the senator takes another drink from his glass.
“The Senator is here looking for the future Mrs. Roberts.”
“We have plenty of Maidens that I’m certain will spark your interest.” I take a crystal glass from a passing tray. Champagne, of course.
“I think I already have my eye on a certain one.”
“Oh? How so?” I don’t miss my father’s grin.
“I ran into one at the Chapel. She didn’t belong there. But she certainly whet my whistle for more of what she had to offer.”
I grip my glass too hard. The only Maiden I know of that’s been to the Chapel is Delilah.
“Well, you’ll have the pick of the litter, I can assure you.” My father claps him on the back and shoots me a pointed look. “I need to go over final preparations with Adam for this evening, but please make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, you simply have to ask.”
“Will do.” Roberts raises his glass to my father, then turns to mingle in the crowd—most of them potential suitors for one of my father’s Maidens.
I follow my father to his office. He closes the double doors and walks around his desk.
Castro isn’t here. As that knowledge sinks in, my blood begins to pound, beating a violent rhythm in my ears. Has the Prophet just unknowingly given me a gift? I move toward the chairs as my father flicks on the screen behind him. Delilah and I are there, our bodies moving as I fuck her.
“I really enjoyed this show.” He turns toward the screen.
I edge closer. There’s a heavy paperweight in the shape of a cross I can use to do it. Expedient. Though I’d rather use my bare hands.
“Did you know your Maiden’s cunt looks like a lily, the lightest shade of pink on earth? She showed me, opened her legs wide and offered me everything.” Satisfaction punctuates every one of his words.
They sting, but not as much as they could. I’ve already tasted the heaven between her thighs, and she’s given me everything. My father will never be able to touch what Delilah and I shared.
I’m at the side of the desk, moving slowly as my father stares at the video. He’s just the sort of degenerate who can get his rocks off while watching his son fuck someone.
A few more steps and I’ll be close enough to strike. My fingers graze the paperweight. I slow my breathing, a calm falling over me. It always feels like this when I’m about to deliver the death blow. Serene. The calm before the burst of adrenaline and the splash of blood.