Illias couldn’t stop his orgasm before it crashed over him. His teeth sunk deeper into Cantrell’s skin, and he rutted desperately against his lap while he rode out his high. Head spinning, heart in his ears, Illias released his jaw and soothed the bitemark with a kiss. He rested his head against Cantrell’s shoulder, boneless and floaty.
“Good boy,” Cantrell praised. “Such a good boy for me.”
“Did you—” Illias cut himself short when he felt Cantrell’s cock twitch beneath him.
“Don’t worry about me, pup,” Cantrell assured, tracing Illias’ sides languidly. “I’ll be okay. How do you feel?”
Illias shrugged. “Floaty.” He nestled into Cantrell’s neck, not wanting to part ways yet. Needing him to stay. “Need you.”
“I’m here.” Cantrell held Illias close. “We can stay here for as long as you need, pup.” Kissed his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Illias’ chest tightened. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cantrell
“As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man.”
- Proverbs 27:19 KJV
Cantrell rose from the floor with a pained grunt, knees crying out in protest after spending an hour removing hardened wax from the carpet in the nave. He leaned against the pew closest to him, curling his fingers around its edges in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. Taking a slow, steady breath, he examined the spot on the carpet with a small frown. While he was able to remove a majority of the wax from the carpet, there was a small blackened area from where the candle singed the fabric.
Two small children had bumped the candle racks while roughhousing, causing one to fall. Thankfully, Cantrell was close by when it happened and was able to keep the damage to aminimum and, surprisingly, his temper at bay. The mother, who was speaking with Rier about baptism arrangements prior to the incident, apologized profusely while wrangling the still tussling siblings. Rier escorted the trio out while assuring the mother all would be fine and it was something that could be easily fixed.
Damned kids, Cantrell thought, massaging his right knee. The pain lessened to a dull throb. He sighed, bowing his head.Forgive me, he prayed,I am tired and weak.
“Were you able to remove the wax?” Rier asked, walking back into the nave.
Cantrell carefully maneuvered between the pews and met Rier in the middle aisle. “Yes, I believe so. We will have to get someone out to patch the carpet,” he said, adjusting his glasses further up his nose.
Rier sighed. “I will let the bishop know.”
Cantrell nodded and yawned. “Excuse me,” he said, covering his mouth. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Rier’s eyes narrowed as he eyed Cantrell. “Are you not sleeping?”
“I’m fine,” Cantrell said dismissively. “Just the usual worries keeping me up. Besides,” he added, removing his glasses to clean them and giving a small shrug, “I rarely sleep well.”
“Hmm, perhaps you should take some time away from Saint Anthony’s,” Rier suggested. “Realign yourself with your true responsibilities here at the church. After all”—he looked down his nose at Cantrell— “the church should be your one and only focus. Unless there is something, or rathersomeone, that’s become more important.”
Fear, icy cold and sharp, clung to the nape of Cantrell’s neck. Mouth full of sand, he cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back. “If there is something you would like to accuse me of, do so plainly. I am too old for games, Rier.”
“I am not accusing you of anything, brother,” Rier responded quickly, looking Cantrell dead in the eyes. “But, if I were, it would be that you let thatheathenKoller boy lead you astray.”
Cantrell’s eyes hardened. “For you to say such a thing, to imply that I am involved in some sort of scandal,”even if it may hold a shred of truth,“is despicable. I may have come from a past that, in your eyes, does not deserve redemption, but I”—Cantrell pointed at himself— “have dedicated years of my life to making amends for the life I lived before I found Christ. Only He reserves the right to cast judgement on me.”
Wrath stirring low in his gut like a pot beginning to boil, Cantrell turned sharply, ramming his shoulder directly into Rier’s. Rier’s gaze burned into Cantrell’s back but he kept his head high as he headed towards the front doors of the church.
“You can’t run away, Cantrell!” Rier called after him. Cantrell pushed forward, heart hammering against his sternum. “You can’t hide from the truth,” Rier continued. “God sees all, knows all. He will bring your sins to light, He always does!”
His words rang in Cantrell’s ears well after the door to the church closed behind him. Rier never cared for him, so it was more likely that Rier was assuming the worst. From the beginning, he looked at Cantrell with disgust and disapproval. Especially after learning of Cantrell’s background. For Rier to assume Cantrell lost his way, fell off Christ’s path, was unsurprising. The hurt—thefear—ran deep nonetheless, since allegations like the one Rier voiced were enough to call for an investigation from the bishop, possibly even Cantrell’s departure from the church. “Shit,” he whispered beneath his breath, slamming his car door shut. “Shit!”
He had been nothing but careful since the very beginning. Cautious of his surroundings when they interacted, hiding from prying eyes whenever they texted, keeping his voice low at night when they called, never seeing Illias in broad daylight. Treatedhim like a dirty secret because that was what their relationship was. Illias was forbidden fruit. Cantrell’s personal apple from the Tree of Knowledge. And he was forsaken the moment he let his wandering eye get the better of him when Illias walked into Nirvana’s that very first night.
Cantrell lifted his left hip and removed his phone from his back pocket. Unlocking the phone, he called the only person he knew to. His heart sank to his feet when it went to voicemail. Doing all he could to keep his panic at bay, he tossed his phone on the passenger side seat then started the car. As he prepared to put it into gear his phone lit up, and he snatched the device from where it lay.
