A frustrated whine leaves my throat as I wiggle beneath him. We both know my surrender is imminent; I'm not even sure why I've tried to hold out his long. Obviously, the priest get-up turns me on, and he wants to play along and get me off in the filthiest way possible, so why do I still feel the need to fight it?
His insistent touch and lips, his groans as he rubs his dick against me, all of it proves to be too much. I can't fucking help myself, ready to give him anything he wants if it means more earth-shattering orgasms.
So I submit, supplicating myself to whatever punishment or reward he deems fit.
"Please, Father." I plead, "Please fuck me, Father. I need it."
He groans, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down just enough to let his huge, already dripping erection free before spreading my legs roughly with his knees. Hooking a single finger into my drenched panties, he pulls them to the side, angling himself right at my entrance. "You want me to fucking ruin you, my little sinner?"
"Yes, Father."
Aurora
Isla
The punch lands before I even fully wake up, much less actively try to hit him.
"Fuck," a voice mutters, and I blink slowly to adjust to suddenly being conscious again, "Isla, relax. It's just me. Get up."
"What do you meanget up?" I groan, "What time is it?"
My eyes land on him as he uses a finger to dab at the dark, viscous liquid seeping from his nose as he chuckles. "God damn, you really got me." Tearing the covers off without answering my question, he throws my giant fur coat over my legs on the bed. "Get up or you're going to miss it."
"Miss what?" As the fog from sleep clears, the details in his shadowy face become more visible. He's wearing that silly boyish grin, the one that I hate. It's too wholesome, too bright. It makes my chest ache, wishing that he were someone else. Anyone else.
"I can't tell you," he's practically bouncing on his toes with excitement, ignoring the blood drying just above his curled upper lip. "Just get up."
Groggily, I throw my legs off the bed, reaching for the heavy coat and wrapping it around myself. Not waiting for another second, Eamon eases the boots I wore in and haven't touched since over my feet. I'm tempted to pull away, hating the ease with which he can put the shoes on me while still being so delicate and swift, like he's dressed me a million times.
Or maybe he's spent lots of time dressing other people.
No. Not going there.
Even if he has, I don't care. What he did before me and will continue to do once this has run its course is none of my business.
He pulls on my hands, forcing me to stand on shaky legs. I'm not sure if I'm still drunk or just that exhausted but standing right now seems an impossible task. With one of my hands wrapped firmly in his, he stomps out of my room and out into the living room. He grabs a pair of black gloves from the couch, sliding them over my fingers and fastening them around my wrists without a word.
"Are we going outside?" I feel like a fucking dog whose just overheard the wordwalk.How it took me this long to piece it together is a mystery. Probably has something to do with the fact that I've been wallowing in this steel coffin for months, thinking I'll never see the sun again.
His beaming grin meets me again before he answers, "It's going to be even colder than it was when you got here, okay?"
"Okay, but wearegoing outside?" Tears start to form, blurring the world around me.
With a nod, he grabs my hand again, easing me toward the metal door that's been taunting me for weeks. I notice as we walk through it that it doesnt even have so much as a lock or a code. He's left it completely open all this time and I didn't notice. Why would I have? Where would I go even if I made it outside?
Traversing back through the way we came in so long ago feels surreal, and I distantly wonder what it's going to smell like outside. I haven't smelled fresh air in so long, and I'm practically feening for it.
He places my hands on each side at the base of the ladder, "You won't be able to see, so you'll have to go by feel alone. I'll meet you up there, okay?"
I nod frantically, happy to do whatever he says as long as it gets me out of this hell for a minute. I feel the air stir behind me, a whiff of the ocean's salty, briny scent hitting me before it disappears, taking Eamon with it.
With a deep breath, I start climbing, carefully using my gloved hands to find my way, the weight of the boots far easier to carry than it was on our way in so long ago. Far above me, the click of the hatch opening incenses me to move faster. My hands and feet almost slip, the excitement of what lay ahead making me forget to be cautious. I feel as if I'm racing against time. It's like I'm in a dream, and I have to reach the end before I wake up, or I'll be trapped in this loop of almost freedom forever.
Cold air whooshes through the opening, nearly knocking me backward before I fix my grip. But even still, when I look up, it's pitch black. All I see above me is darkness.
"You're almost there, just a few more rungs," Eamons voice reaches me from above, so I continue on, still surrounded by the pitch black of night.
When the feeling of the ladder changes, my hand falling onto soft ground, I scramble onto it, laying on my back and soaking up every second of the fresh air. Even if it's the middle of the night and absolutely freezing fucking cold, the air is a godsend. It's like I'm breathing again for the first time in months.
