Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

SLOAN

T he heavy wooden doors of the church creak open under my tired, trembling hands, and the sound echoes through the vast space like a death knell. 12:02 AM. Two minutes late. I've lost the game.

My legs nearly give out as I step inside, the sudden warmth making my frozen skin feel a thousand pin pricks. Every muscle screams from exhaustion – from running, from the cold, from what Alex has put my body through tonight. God, just thinking about it makes heat flood through my body, fighting against the bone-deep chill.

The church seems to breathe around me, old and knowing, filled with spirits. Moonlight filters through towering stained glass windows, casting jewel-toned shadows across worn marble floors. The air is thick with pine and perfume, lingering from midnight mass. I imagine all of the people sitting in the pews as I walk, and the wide variety of sins and secrets they hold close while listening to the service.

Our Father, who art in Heaven...

I almost laugh at the fragment of prayer that floats through my mind. Church was never my thing – too many rules, too much guilt, too little room for the messy reality of human desire. The Adams family, of course, have their own pew here, third row from the front, marked with a discrete brass plaque. I wonder what they would think if they knew what their perfect son has been doing tonight.

My wet boots echo on the tile as I make my way down the center aisle. Rows of empty pews stretch out on either side, their wood gleaming dully in the low light. Above, the vaulted ceiling disappears into darkness, but I can just make out the intricate carvings – angels and demons locked in eternal battle.

How appropriate.

The altar looms ahead, a masterpiece of carved stone and gold leaf, far too fancy for a town as small as this. A massive crucifix hangs above it, and even in the dim light, I can see the agony on Christ's face. The pain. The ecstasy.

A table of candles left lit makes shadows dance across the stations of the cross that line the walls. Each depicts its own form of suffering, its own blend of pain and transcendence. I've never understood the Catholic obsession with beautiful agony until tonight. Until Alex showed me how closely pleasure, pain, and exhaustion can dance together.

My legs are shaking so badly I have to lean against a pew. Every inch of my body aches – from the cold, from running, from him . The last encounter in the tree farm nearly broke me. It took everything I had to pull myself up from the snow, to force my frozen limbs to carry me the rest of the way here. Even knowing I'd lost, even knowing what that might mean.

Or maybe because of what that might mean.

The thought sends a shiver through me. Because the truth is, part of me slowed down on purpose. Part of me wanted to be late. Wanted to lose. Wanted to discover the grand finale Alex has been saving for the end of the night.

A door creaks behind me, the sound impossibly loud in the midnight silence. My heart leaps into my throat as footsteps echo off the floor – measured, unhurried. Confident . The walk of a predator who knows his prey is cornered.

I don't turn around. I can't. Every muscle in my body has locked up, caught between terror and anticipation.

"You're late." His voice slides down my spine like water dripping from an icicle. He's closer than I expected, just a few feet behind me. I can feel his presence like a physical weight, like gravity itself has shifted to pull me toward him.

"Two minutes," I whisper, and my voice sounds strange in the vast space, too breathy, too desperate. I turn to meet his gaze. "Only two minutes late."

"Late is late, Sloan." The ski mask should look ridiculous on him. Instead, it makes him look dangerous, predatory. A demon in disguise, here to claim what he’s owed. "But I have to admit, you played the game... exceptionally well." The words roll off his tongue like silk.

He moves closer, and I grip the pew harder to keep from swaying toward him. Even after everything tonight – the chase, the catches, the countless moments of pleasure and pure exhaustion – my body still reacts to his presence like a moth to a flame. Like it knows something my mind is still trying to process.

"The game is over," he continues, and there's something in his voice I've never heard before. Something that makes my knees weak. "But rules are rules, and now nothing is off-limits."

The sound of something soft sliding against cardboard makes me turn to face him fully. In his gloved hands is a black box, elegant in its simplicity, wrapped with a black ribbon that seems to absorb what little light there is. My breath catches. After a night of so much suspense this small box somehow feels like the most dangerous thing yet.

"What is it?" The question escapes before I can stop it.

His laugh is low, husky. "Curious little thing, aren't you? But no. You don't get to know. Not yet." He steps closer, near enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and can smell that distinctive mix of expensive cologne and primal male that's now him. "You don't get to open it until I'm done with you."

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise. Above us, the carved angels and demons seem to lean closer, as if they too want to know what comes next.

"And when will that be?" I manage to ask, proud that my voice only shakes slightly.

He reaches out, tracing one gloved finger down my cheek. Even through the leather, his touch burns, igniting my core. "When I've had my fill of you. When I've taken everything you have to give. When I've marked you so thoroughly that you'll never forget who you belong to."

The words should frighten me. Should make me run. Instead, they make me so wet I can feel the slickness between my legs without touching myself. His words make my breath catch in my throat. Because this isn't the Alex Adams who loyally follows mommy and daddy to the ends of the earth. This is something else. Someone else. Someone who’s been hiding behind his perfect manners, waiting for the right moment – the right night – to break free.

"The game is over," he repeats, setting the black box carefully on the pew beside us. "But the night?" His hand slides into my hair, gripping hard enough to make me whimper out a small cry. "The night is just beginning."

I should feel sacrilegious, letting him touch me like this in a house of God. Should feel guilty about the way my body arches toward his, hungry for more despite my exhaustion. But all I feel is alive. Electrified. Like every moment before this was just preparation, just practice for this version of Alex.

His other hand comes up to trace my bottom lip, and even through the glove, I can feel him trembling slightly. Controlled Alex, proper Alex, perfect Alex – barely holding onto his composure. Because of me. Because of this game. Because of whatever's about to happen next.

The black box sits beside us, mysterious and promising. Could it be more cash? A few thousand dollars to spend on skimpy outfits? My mind wanders away from the box because right now, with Alex's hands on me and the suspense hanging in the air, it's the least interesting thing in the room.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, my bottom lip quivering with need between words.

Alex tsks, shaking his head. “It’s not what I’m going to do, my sweet doe. It’s what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t have anything left to give,” I admit, still leaning on the pew for support. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to ride me,” he says immediately. “I want you to fuck my cock with that tight little cunt until you’re too exhausted to move. And after that, I’ll force your body to bounce on my cock until you’re weeping for me to stop. I’ll draw out every drop of pleasure your body holds until you’re on the verge of passing out. You will give me all of you. You will give me everything.”

Alex grabs my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at his dark eyes hiding behind the mask. They’re hard, but those gold flecks are still there. How have I never noticed those before?

Pulling me from thought, he jerks me into the pews, forcing me down onto his lap so that I’m straddling him. His tone is sharp and possessive as he whispers against my ear. “Tell me you’ll give me everything, Sloan. Tell me you’re mine. ”

Trembling, I nod. “I’m yours.”

His hands fall to my hips, and he’s rubbing his thumbs over my sides. “Tell me you’ll give me everything.”

“I’ll give you everything.” My words are soft, barely audible.

Alex growls with approval, tightening his grip around my hips. “Take my cock out, and suck it before you fuck it with that perfect little pussy.”

Without protest, I climb off his lap and lower myself to the floor, resting my weight on my knees. Alex plays with my long, tangled hair while I make quick work of unfastening his pants. I pull his already hardened dick from his pants, and then free it from his briefs. It’s stiff in my hand, making my mouth water at both the sight and feel. Wetting my bottom lip with my tongue, I lean forward, opening until it’s wide enough to fit him. His velvety cock slides into my mouth easily, and I let my tongue coat it in saliva the entire way in. I close my lips around him, moaning as I begin to bob up and down.

“Mmm,” Alex moans when I take him all the way to the base of his cock. “Just like that.”

I keep going, quickening my pace as I use my right hand to stroke his cock in unison with my head movements. My left hand is braced on the seat of the pew, and it’s pretty much the only thing preventing me from falling over right now. My body is so far beyond the point of exhaustion, but I can’t stop because who the fuck knows when Alex will act like this again? Who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to give head and get fucked in an empty church on Christmas Eve night again?

I need this.

I need him.

Alex’s hands lace through my hair, and he pushes down on the back of my head, forcing me to take him so far down my throat I can no longer breathe. He holds me there for a few seconds before yanking me back, leaving me gasping for air.

“Get on it,” he demands, pointing toward his dick with his eyes.

I’m unsteady as I rise to my feet, and I have to use the back of the pew behind him as I climb back onto his lap, straddling his fully erect cock. Removing one hand from the pew, I grab him in my hand, lining up the head of his cock with my entrance. I’m already sopping wet, so he slides into me easily as I lower myself onto him. My pussy swallows him whole, taking him in one movement.

“Oh,” I cry out in a moan, letting my head fall back as I begin bouncing up and down. Moving my hands to his shoulders, I use him for support while I ride him.

Alex pulls a knife out of nowhere, and I jump back when he brings it to my stomach.

“Don’t stop,” he barks, making me wince.

Slowly, I start moving again, watching his glistening blade closely with wide eyes. He pulls on the bottom of my dress, slipping the tip of the knife through it, and then he rips it up, cleanly slicing the fabric from my body. My boobs pop out, bouncing in his face while I keep the rhythm going.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, setting the knife on the wood beside us and gripping my hips, slamming me down on his cock as hard as he can while taking one of my tits into his mouth. His tongue flicks out, lapping at my nipple and making it harden into a peak.

I cry out as the pleasure builds, radiating through my body. My legs are burning, but I push through because this is my chance to live out my most taboo fantasies. This is my “fuck you” to Alex’s mom and dad.

This is my darkest desire come to life.

I bring my fingers to my clit, swirling over it so furiously that an orgasm crashes into me, making me bare down on his cock. I feel the heat of the liquid leaving me as I shatter internally, squirting for him. He leaves me no room to feel self conscious about my body’s sweet release when he bucks his hips beneath me, driving himself into me harder and forcing me to squirt harder.

Stars dance on the edges of my vision. Like sugar plum fairies performing a ballet just for us. Smiling, I put every last ounce of energy into pleasing Alex.

Tonight has been the best gift I could have ever asked for and more.

Merry fucking Christmas, Alex.