The Angel (The Original Sinners 2)

Søren slammed her against the wall and wrenched her skirt up. In seconds he was deep inside her. Nora wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on to him as if her life depended on it, and in that moment she knew it did. If she ever let Søren go again…if she ever walked away from him again, she didn’t know if she’d be strong enough to come back. So she held on tight, dug her fingernails into his shoulders, gasped his name in his ear and gave herself over to the brutal thrusts that would leave her bruised, inside and out.

When she came, she breathed his name with her eyes closed. And even after he’d spent himself inside her, he still held her in his arms, pinned to the wall.

“My little one,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek, her eyes.

Slowly he pulled out of her and lowered her to the floor. They straightened their clothes as their bodies disentangled. Holding her breath, Nora waited.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Søren took a step backward. And then another.

“Hands and knees,” he said and Nora knelt gracefully on the floor.

He’d asked her two years ago on their anniversary how she would come back to him if she ever returned to his bed.

If you come back to me, little one, will  you run, or will you crawl?

I’ll fly, she’d answered.

Tonight as she returned to him, she crawled.

* * *

Michael spent nearly three days in Griffin’s bedroom. They came up for air only for food and showers and the occasional glimpse of sunlight before retreating back into bed. The second night together, Griffin strung Michael to the bedpost and flogged him for the first time. And Michael had thought Nora had a vicious flogging arm. Even getting his wrists tattooed hadn’t hurt that much.

He loved every single second of it. Nothing scared him anymore about being with Griffin. The sex part took a little getting used to but the incredible pleasure of having Griffin inside him was worth all the work and occasional grimacing. The S&M they would figure out. The love…the love he had no complaints about. Michael basked in Griffin’s love, wallowed it in, let his heart that had been so thirsty for affection drink in every drop. Every morning Griffin told him, “I love you.” Every night he said the same. And all Michael had to do was come anywhere near Griffin’s reach if he wanted to be pulled into the two most wicked-strong arms he’d ever encountered in his life. Ever since his suicide attempt, Michael had felt near-constant loneliness, anxiety, and a sense that while people like Father S and Nora would understand him, no one ever truly loved him. But with Griffin he finally felt loved, at peace and safe.

But on day three, Griffin did and said the one thing guaranteed to shatter Michael’s bliss.

“I don’t do secret relationships, Mick. If we’re going to do this, I want to meet your mom. Pack up. We’re out of here.”

The words were said in a tone that brooked no challenge. Michael had known it was too good to be true anyway. Once Griffin saw how truly humble his origins were—the tiny house, the ten-year-old car in the driveway, the shabby furniture—he’d realize how different they were and how little Michael belonged in Griffin’s world.

In tense silence Michael stared out the window of Griffin’s Porsche as they drove from the estate to Wakefield. Griffin seemed to sense Michael’s anxiety and left him alone with his thoughts.

When they hit Wakefield, Griffin cruised by Sacred Heart but they found the church empty. Michael guessed Father S and Nora were still in bed enjoying their reunion. He wished he could say the same for him and Griffin. Before leaving the church, Michael went to the shrine of the Virgin Mary in the corner of the narthex and lit a candle in prayer.

Mary, Mother of God, Michael prayed in his heart. Please help my mom. Please help me and  Griffin. That was it. He had no idea what else to pray. He knew he didn’t want to hurt his mother, but he didn’t want her hurting Griffin, either. So many horrible scenarios ran through Michael’s mind as Griffin drove them to Michael’s house. His mother would lose her shit, for sure. She’d probably forbid Michael from seeing Griffin. And Michael would refuse. So what? Move out? Live with Griffin? Seemed a little early for that. Of course, there’d be no Griffin after all this shit with his family went down.

Griffin pulled onto the street and Michael swallowed a wave of nausea. The nausea worsened with every house they passed on the way to his. When they reached Michael’s home the nausea turned to dread, shock and panic.

“Oh, f**k,” Michael breathed as he noticed a familiar and truly unwelcome sight.

“What, Mick?” Griffin asked, grabbing Michael’s knee.

“My dad’s here.”

* * *

Nora stretched across Søren’s chest and released a blissful sigh.

“Thank you, sir,” she purred, turning her head to give him a quick bite under his collarbone.

“Do I want to know what specifically you’re thanking me for or should I simply say you’re welcome?”

Nora moved completely on top of Søren and pressed her entire body into his as he wrapped his arms around her. She loved Søren’s height. At six foot four he stood exactly one foot taller than her. She could lie on top of him, stomach to stomach, and her head could tuck right under his chin.

“Well, I lost count after the seventh orgasm. And you also did that thing I like with the thing.”

“No thanks necessary. I rather enjoyed it myself.”

Nora raised her head and looked Søren in the eyes.