Covet Not (12 page)

On
one particular instance, Raphe came fairly quickly all over his stomach and
before he could exhale, Daniel's tongue was hot on his chest, licking it up.

It
was the hottest thing Raphe had ever experienced, but Daniel had left quickly
after, though he came into his room several times a week. Raphe was always
without handcuffs in the morning, so he figured Daniel would wait until he fell
asleep before he let him loose.

“I
dream about your fingers sometimes,” Raphe told him one night as he languidly
stroked himself. Daniel only handcuffed the one arm, even though both had been
available. That told Raphe quite a lot about Daniel.

“That's
an odd thing to dream about,” he whispered.

Raphe
couldn't tell if Daniel was touching himself. “I've had your fingers in me. It
makes me hard just thinking about it. Did you know I don't get aroused from
just fingers? But yours are so long and eager. Did you like doing it?”

No
answer. Just silence.

“Could
you do it again? Just to help me come. I'll even suck you if you'd like.”

A
hitched breath.

“You
can go grab the cooking oil, and you'll just slide right in. It's amazing.”

“It's
a sin.”

“Is
it? It says in your holy book ass-fingering is a sin? Really?”

“Not
specifically, no. Just lying with a man as you would a woman is a sin.”

Raphe
could hear a zip. “Ah. Well, then. Don't 'lie' with me. In fact, I can turn
over and you won't touch the bed at all.

He
turned over, adjusting his handcuffed wrist, and a few seconds later, his ass
was in the air, bare and waiting for Daniel to do something.

He
heard footsteps leaving his room, and he was disappointed. He wasn't even sure
if he still wanted to masturbate. But just when he was about to turn back
around, Raphe heard those same footsteps return.

He
couldn't make out exactly what was happening, but when he heard something heavy
being placed on the table beside his bed, he knew what it was, and his erection
grew persistent once more. “It's not going to take me long, and I want to come
when you do.” He didn't care what Daniel had in mind, if anything specific at
all. He wanted those fingers, but he hoped it would be rather more than just
that. He could hear the sounds of an oil-slick dick, and he moaned at the
sound. He touched himself just enough to stay hard.

After
a few minutes, he could feel a warm palm pulling him apart, and a sticky thumb
brushing his entrance. “Mmmm...yes.” The thumb was removed and he felt a thick
drizzle of something down his crack. He heard Daniel swear, then felt a tongue
licking up his crack in thick swipes.
Holymotherfuckingshit.
He moaned
and pressed his ass back. “The oil...”

“Honey.”
Daniel's voice was muffled, and he was still trying to prevent any from falling
onto the bed or floor.

“In
that case, you missed a spot. Fucking fuck me with your tongue. I'll let you
split me open after.” Raphe groaned at the assault. He never would have
imagined Daniel had it in him. That wicked tongue breached him quickly, and
Raphe had to let go of his dick. “Now. Just. Fuck. Please. Please
please
please
do it hard. Fuck.
Please.
” He was about to come on just this.
Just with Daniel's inexperienced tongue pushing its way inside him.

Daniel
stood and steadied his hips. He was taking far too long. Raphe felt the head of
his cock bump against him and he shook his head and pressed back. The head
popped through. Finally. “More. Harder,” Raphe breathed, and worked himself
earnestly. He moved his ass backward at the slow burn until he was stretched
completely around him. “Fuck, yes. Come on!”

Daniel
made a sound Raphe had never heard before. His entire body was jerking against
Raphe, but his cock stayed still, yet embedded fully.

Raphe
realized Daniel was coming. Thankfully Raphe was close. It wasn't the thorough
fucking he'd wanted, but he was never going to complain about that time when he
was kidnapped and the kidnapper decided to eat his ass. Nope. Not going to ever
complain.

Raphe
fell to his side and slept. He never felt the warmth of the washcloth Daniel
used to clean him. Or the way Daniel lay with him after.

XXI

God, she was so
very lovely. Her blonde hair was plaited down her back, and her blue eyes were
wide and curious. Jude wasn't one to appreciate such beauty, but he tried to
look at it from the view of the man who would spend the rest of his life with her.
To wake up with her. To disappoint her.

She
looked bred for obedience and that aroused him somewhat, unlike before when
he'd thought of it. Before, she hadn't been right in front of him. He picked at
his peas and rolled that over in his brain for a moment, but banished the
thought entirely.

He
wasn't his father and Clara wasn't a fucking child anymore. She didn't look
particularly suited for farm work, and with light housework and meals to be
cooked, she'd be bored. Until their children. Jude wished for children quickly.
He wanted her occupied because he didn't know what sort of expectations her
mother planted. He wasn't sure what Clara expected of him.

And
it's not like sex was going to be a hardship. It just wouldn't be enough
sometimes. His father would be watching, so he would have to make do.

He
didn't dare hope for a friend.

Her
mother was ridiculously talkative, but Clara Peterson either knew her place, or
wasn't nearly as annoying as her mother. Jude would take either. He prayed to
whomever was listening the girl didn't inherit her mother's laugh.

Mrs.
Lionel had brought a roast. Since his father had somehow run off Selene, and
hadn't hired another live-in, she brought dinner more often than not. Eunice
Lionel had been good friends with his late grandmother, Victoria. She'd been a
widow long before Jude's birth.

She
had a fondness for his father, and Jude was often surprised how pleasant his
father could be around her. He appeared to genuinely care for her, and it was
out of character. He would never believe his father had any redeeming
qualities.

“She's
been well taught. Your son won't have any complaints.” Mrs. Peterson was
entirely too loud.

James
laughed. “Well,
she
just might.”

Obnoxious
laughter. Clara looked down at her food.

“I
imagine it'll be fine. Jude's needs are few. He works hard here on the farm and
Clara will be a welcome addition for him. A little helpmeet. I imagine she'll
have an easy time of it at first. But, I predict his children will be as ornery
as he is.”

More
laughter. Shrill laughter.

Jude
looked over at Clara. He'd make it easy for her. It would probably take a while
to recover from living with such noise.

Mrs.
Peterson and Clara stayed for chocolate cake, but left sooner than they wanted
because of the storm. The wind was picking up noticeably. As they walked them
out, Jude looked at Clara and nodded, smiled, then put his head down. He didn't
want to seem rude, so he went back to his default diffidence.

Once
they left, James tipped his head toward the barn, then walked back into the
house. Jude went to his house to fetch the matches.

He
didn't want to walk in the barn, but knew he must. The storm was getting
closer, the wind picking up, and the fire would need a chance to burn before
the rain extinguished it. He didn't want to douse the body with gasoline, but
he knew Martin would rather be burned. He would rather be burned than it be
known he'd been fucking the Agnesson boy in the barn. And being shot in the
head for doing it.

Jude
knew his father would simply say he was stopping an attack, and even though it
was the hardest thing he'd ever do, he'd burn him just to stop such slander.
He'd let his father clean up the mess. Jude knew it would appeal to his
father's control issues, and he would need to stay on top of how to manage him.

This
was because James Agnesson was a psychopath. And until he was dead, there was
nothing Jude could do. He was alone. Even with a bride, he would be alone.

Jude
scrubbed the tears from his eyes, and opened the barn door. He grabbed the
container of gasoline stored there, and walked over to the body splayed on the
ground. The blood and brain matter had darkened to nearly black. “I'm so
fucking sorry, Martin.” He splashed gasoline onto the body and turned to get a
few beams, more hay, then along the wall. He lit a match and it bloomed
massively, causing him to drop it, and the fire rose all around him. A Danse
Macabre. He cursed and hurried to the body, and fumbled with another match to
light. It bloomed as well, and as soon as he dropped it onto Martin's back, the
whole corpse was engulfed. He took a quick step backward, and tripped over the
gasoline container. His sleeve caught fire. Panicking, he rolled onto the
ground to put it out, and as soon as he got to his knees, he realized the
breath in his lungs was all he had.

Clara
didn't feel very optimistic. Jude hadn't looked at all interested in having a
wife, and the way Mr. Agnesson went on, she assumed having her there would be
pointless. She didn't expect him to fall madly in love with her, but a little
conversation would have eased her.

Her
mother didn't seem to think anything was amiss, but then she was so shamelessly
flirting, Clara would've had to stab her with a fork to get her attention. It
took effort not to.

And
when they started talking about children...

Clara
didn't know if she'd be ready for a child anytime soon. Or the sex. It sounded
messy and unpleasant. Her mother told her it wasn't something enjoyable and men
could be unpredictable with their desires. But their desires came from God, and
Clara wanted to be dutiful. She just hoped it wasn't difficult.

They
would be wed in less than a week. She would be under him in less than a week.
She would be a wife in less than a week. She would have a husband in less than
a week.

Clara
had been excited before. Now she was terrified.

Shula
smelled smoke. The evenings were getting cooler, but it would still be months
before they would start a fire. The leaves had only just starting changing. “Is
your brother burning trash? It's a bit windy to be doing that tonight.”

Jared
took a deep breath without his eyes leaving his computer screen. “Could be. The
wind would be blowing it this way, but he knows better than to do it so close
to the tree line. Especially with the wind.”

A
few minutes later, Jared stood and opened the door. The woods were full of
smoke. “Shula, get dressed quickly. And pack us a bag.”

She
hesitated, but only for a moment. She quickly pulled on her dress and shoes,
and as soon as she walked out of the bedroom with their bag, she saw Jared
carrying a large duffel out of the computer room. “I want you to get in the
truck and wait for me.”

She
wasn't going to ask questions, because she sensed they were in danger. It was
apparent time was important. Jared locked the house and engaged the alarm, then
walked her swiftly to the truck. “Could you drive if I needed you to?” She
nodded.

“Good.
You have our bags. There's a gun in the glove box. I've put it there
since...well, just in case. I'm going to go see what's going on. If the smoke
gets too thick, drive to the road and wait there. I will find you.”

“What
if your father comes?”

“Shoot
him.”

“What
if you don't? I will be very mad if you don't come back. I will never forgive
you.” She was frightened. Fires were so unpredictable.

He
didn't say anything while he put the bags onto the floor of the truck. “I will
always come for you, Shula.” He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her
soundly. “Keep watch and listen. And don't wait until the smoke gets too thick.
Promise me. I don't want to have to worry you didn't make it out.”

“I
promise.” She nodded as he slammed the door. She watched him grab the hose and
soak his shirt before he ran through the trees, towards the source of the
smoke.

Shula
opened the glove box and grabbed the gun. Jared had taught her to shoot ever
since James had paid them a visit. Sometimes she hoped she would see him, just
so she could shoot him.

Jared
ran through the woods with his wet t-shirt covering his mouth. He knew halfway
through it the barn was on fire, and he wanted to make sure Jude didn't need
help rounding up the horses.

He
could see the blaze and the way the wind was blowing it. The oaks, along with
his home, would be gone if the rain didn't hurry. He stopped when he hit the
tree line and took a deep breath, just in time to see Jude come stumbling out
of the barn.

“Shit!”
Jared took off toward his brother. “Jude!” He pulled his brother up, and
dragged him away from the smoke. “What happened?”

Jude
coughed and shook his head. He couldn't catch his breath.

The
wind picked up dangerously, and sparks were flying, hitting the trees, and
there was nowhere to run from the smoke. “Can you run? Let's get you to
father's.”

“No!”
Jude coughed. “Somewhere else.
Please.
”

“Follow
me then. Quickly!” Jared pulled at Jude's arm, and they ran. They followed
Jared's porch light and tried to stay ahead of the smoke.

Jude
continued to cough, and Jared wondered if they'd make it to his truck.

Jared
wasn't back and Shula knew it wasn't safe to stay any longer. She held the gun
on her lap and was confident she'd have no problem shooting James if he stepped
within her sight.

The
strong winds of the incoming storm were funneling the thick smoke through the trees
and Shula could hear the fire, but she could not see it.

“Shula!
Start the truck!”

She
made a relieved sound and started the truck. She looked up and saw Jared had
his brother. She moved to the middle. Less than a minute later, the truck was
headed for the main road. The sky parted.

“Will
the rain put it out?” Shula asked.

“If
it keeps on like this.” Jared parked the car on the side of the main road. You
could see the fire battling the rain, and the wind only seemed to make it much
more violent.

“What
the fuck happened, Jude?”

Jude
had never confided in Jared. He was so alone. He was so tired of being alone.

“Father
shot Martin in the head and I burned the barn down.” His throat was raw.

It
was a few moments before Jared spoke. He was trying to connect the two actions.
“Why did he shoot Martin?”

Jude
began to laugh. Cough and laugh. He laughed until he was blinded with tears.
“Because Martin was fucking me and I think...I think I ducked at just the right
time.