“Men don’t kneel for forgiveness. They kneel for humiliation.” He once said to me.
My hands fist and I know that if I don’t stop it now, it’ll never end. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until he’s dead. I’ve been praying for years he’d die. God never listens. If my father can stand in front of a congregation and pretend to be God, so can I.
I make my way to the office and storm in. He’s sitting at his desk, looking at his computer. “Go home, son,” He dismisses me without looking up. “You can repent tomorrow.”
“That won’t be happening.” I state, pulling my Zippo out of my pocket that my mother gave me all those years ago. “It’s time you pay for your sins father.”
“What are you doing?” He jumps to his feet.
Picking up a book off his bookshelf, I rip the pages out, then toss it to the floor. It’s all ancient biblical shit that he doesn’t even believe in.
“Everything must look perfect,” my mother always tells me. They’re just props.
“Cross! Stop!” he snaps.
I do it to another one.
He rushes me, slamming me into the bookshelf, but I lift my right arm, elbowing him in the face. He cries out, holding his nose and falling onto the couch.
“You must learn to endure pain, Father,” I say the same thing he once said to me while I kneeled in this church. “It’s time you pay your debt.” I light some papers on fire and toss them to the floor next to the ripped books. They catch fire immediately. Then I light a few more on the shelf for safe measure. I don’t want him putting it out. Then I’d have to start all over.
“Cross.” He reaches out to me from the couch. He coughs, as smoke is already filling the room, the fire growing bigger with each second. “Son, stop this.”
I walk over to him and rip the chain that holds the cross from his neck. Pocketing it, I turn to the door not even looking back. “Learn to like the fire, Father. I hear it’s hot in hell.” Slamming the door shut, I lock him inside.
I sit straight up, breathing heavily and looking around aimlessly. Blinking, I remember it’s just a dream. Well, it was very real back then. Now it’s technically a memory. I can still smell the smoke and feel the heat. I hope the motherfucker is still burning.
Getting out of my bed, I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the sink. I splash some water on my face. Then cup my hands, taking a drink of it. I’ve maybe been asleep for an hour. After the night we had, I had to get some rest. I needed to lie with Alexa in my bed, knowing she was with me and safe.
“You okay?”
I spin around to see her standing in the doorway. Still naked from when we passed out earlier after we were done with each other.
“Fine.” I lie.
She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around me. “Thought things were different?” She questions. “If that’s true, then why are you lying?”
I turn to face her. Spinning us both around, I pin her back to the counter and pick her up, setting her ass on it. “It wasn’t a lie.”
“It wasn’t the truth,” she counters. “I want to see you.”
“You’re looking right at me.”
“No,” she says softly, placing her hands on my forearms and slowly running them up my arms. “The Dark King known as Cross.” They continue up to my neck, and she brings them around the front and grabs hold of the cross that hangs around my neck.
Instinct has my hand shooting out and gripping her wrist tightly, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she gives me a soft smile, her head tilting to the side as if she was testing me and I failed.
“Are you afraid I won’t love the real you?”
“No,” I say honestly. “I’m afraid that you will.”
She pulls back, and I let go of my hold on her, knowing this is it. She’s had her fun, but it’s over. I’ve been too honest with her and how I feel.
I step back to give her space, and she jumps down off the counter. But instead of leaving the bathroom, she steps into me. Placing her hands on either side of my face, she stands up on her tiptoes. “I’m not so innocent, Cross. I don’t need you to protect me.”
But I have to. No matter what I do now, I promised myself years ago I would never be my father—If I ever fell in love, I’d cherish her. I’d burn the world to protect her from people like him and myself.
She drops to her knees before me. My cock is instantly ready for her, and I let out a growl as she takes it into her hands. Mine find their way into her already knotted hair, helping hold it back from her face.
She opens up for me and licks up my shaft. I throw my head back and moan when she gets to my piercing. Her tongue gently plays with it, making me weak in the knees. “Alexa,” I call out her name, not even sure why. Other than just needing to say it.
Her hand grips the base of my cock while her mouth swallows it, setting my body on fire and fulfilling that craving I always have. I touch the back of her throat, and I lean forward, one hand having to hold the counter while the other remains in her hair. She picks up her pace, and I allow her to take control, letting her do whatever she wants to me.
Slow, fast, deep, or shallow, it doesn’t even fucking matter. This woman is my damnation. I’ve always known I was going to hell; now I know it’ll be her who sends me there. Because I will do absolutely anything for her. She doesn’t even have to ask.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ALEXA
“GOOD AFTERNOON,” I sing, falling into my seat at the booth for lunch at Empire, downing what’s left of my second Monster.
“Afternoon.” Emilee is the first to greet me. Haven gives me a smile, and Jasmine didn’t hear me because she is too wrapped up typing out a text.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your bar,” Emilee tells me, giving me a sympathetic look with her amber eyes.
“Do they know who did it?” Haven asks curiously.
I’ve never really spoken to her, but she’s the girl’s best friend, and now that I know who she’s married to, it makes me a little nervous to even be around her. What if she goes home, tells her husband she hates me, and he offs me? The guy has some major pull in this town. I bet he’d make it look like an accident. Like I slipped and just happened to fall on a knife to the chest. Or maybe my car would conveniently lose a wheel while I’m driving down the highway. I mean …
“Alexa?”
“Hmm?” I blink, looking up at Emilee.
“Do they know who did it?” she asks what Haven had, and I realize that I never answered.
“I believe so.” I keep it vague. I’m not sure what Cross would want me to say. I guess we should have had the discussion last night instead of fucking multiple times. So many things needed to be discussed, but I craved that connection with him more than answers. Or maybe I just really don’t want to know. Love does make you stupid.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” April states, falling down next to me.
“You’re just in time. We were about to order mimosas,” Jasmine tells her.
“I’m not drinking.” Haven waves her off.
“What? Why not?” Jasmine snorts.