Devil's Fire (12 page)

Ahmad responded with a sensual moan that reverberated up my spine. A furtive fingertip slipped into my slit and I began to follow its rhythm, driven almost helplessly towards a mounting tightness that promised climax. I hovered awkwardly, half-standing, balancing myself by placing my hands against the boulder in front of us, at the command of an amazingly adroit tongue and finger.

And then, as my need increased to a thick, churning demand, Ahmad slipped a finger in where his tongue had been. He began slowly, working a knuckle at a time with several moments of excruciating pleasure-pain between his moves.

‘You do well, my perfect pearl,’ he whispered, kissing my thighs to incite yet another riot of sensations. ‘You will soon be ready to receive me. Where most men are thick and forceful, you will find me slim and resilient, ever mindful of your comfort. Attentive to your needs and deepest desires.’

I let out a long sigh, still moving tentatively to avoid pain. Ahmad, the sly fox, inserted a second finger into my slit, which sent me quivering into a near-panic state. I felt suspended above the ground — above all I had experienced before — yet wary of the man’s next move. ‘Please, may I turn around?’ I pleaded. ‘I want you — so badly — inside me!’

‘There are times we must bend to another’s wishes,’ he replied quietly. ‘Times when we must learn while others instruct. Have you arrived at this level of acceptance, Mary Grace?’

I could only pant and drive my aching clit against the fist he manipulated me with. I closed my eyes for fear of losing myself, my very soul, to the man squatting behind me.

‘Very well,’ he murmured. Still thrusting two fingers deep inside my slit, he placed his knees behind mine and raised himself until the head of his shaft pressed against my other entrance. ‘Now let yourself fall back, Mary Grace, and let me catch you…catch you up in a rapture of fulfilment like you’ve —’

I screamed as his cock gained entry, lunging forward to escape what still repelled me. Ahmad fell backwards into the grass while I landed hard against the large stone. It scared me more than it hurt, but I’d reached my limit: I curled against the warm rock and sobbed. I cried for the loss of familiar places and pleasures, and for the man who’d offered to share them with me. I bemoaned my decision to come here among jaded strangers so eager to lead me down a dark path.

Behind me, I heard a disgruntled sigh. Hoping Ahmad would simply leave me to my misery, I kept my face in the crook of my arm, sniffling pitifully. The breeze tickled me between the legs, where I was still wet but had lost all interest in my climax. Then I felt hands on either side of my bare hips.

‘We will compromise,’ Ahmad stated impatiently. ‘For days I’ve awaited you, and I must have my release. Turn and face me, as you wanted to a moment ago.’

Something in his voice told me not to argue. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw a belligerent edge to Ahmad’s dark features, yet still those eyes and that voice held me in their thrall. ‘I — I’m sorry I disappointed you.’

‘Disappointment has its place. It provides room for improvement.’ His gaze settled on my sex, and one hand wrapped around the erection that now protruded even further out of the folds of his pants. ‘Lie back against the rock and spread yourself. By taking the pleasure I’ve saved up for you, I’ll show you what you have denied yourself. I’ll teach you to trust, to override your fears and open yourself to me.’

My impulse was to bolt. I’d explained that I wished to remain faithful to Hyde — a perfectly honourable request — and by allowing this man to enter me I was breaking my promises. Yet again he read my thoughts.

‘I won’t take you against your will,’ he muttered, his hand actions becoming faster. ‘And I won’t ask you to indulge me the way we found you with Fortune — it will teach you nothing, and I take no pleasure from gagging my partners with my extended length. They invariably bite down.’

I remained quiet, slowly turning to face him. His ebony features tightened, yet he remained in utmost control.

‘Lie back, offering yourself to me. Spread your legs wide.’

I felt like a sacrificial lamb, yet I sensed Ahmad intended no harm as he relieved himself in a way I had yet to understand. I took hold of that perfect apple so it wouldn’t fall to the ground, and then hoisted myself on to the rock as he’d instructed.

‘Wider,’ he breathed, his gaze so penetrating my slit felt the same tinglings he’d inspired before with his fingers. Again I felt swept into his power, free to choose yet wanting to do as he willed. Wanting to make up for the way I’d rejected his original attempt.

‘Touch yourself,’ Ahmad instructed, bucking forward and back as though he rode a cantankerous horse. ‘Slip your fingers between those rosy lips and show me your most secret, sacred place. Make me welcome, Mary Grace. Open yourself as you could not before, and let me come…let me come —’

With a guttural gasp, he aimed and kept pumping. The cream spurted out of him like streamers, thick and white and warm as it landed against my open hole. ‘Yes…yes…’ he moaned when I began to rub the slick substance against my skin. ‘Anoint yourself with me. Let me pour myself into you, my paroxysm of passion. Let me fill you until you can hold no more.’

His low voice urged me on until I was writhing in time with him. I thrust myself at him, opening further to receive yet another burst of his seemingly endless seed. This was indeed an unanticipated experience, for had someone told me I would find such a dousing erotic, I wouldn’t have believed it. When Ahmad at last sank to his knees, I flicked my fingers in and out and around, driving myself into the spirals that would bring release. My head lolled back and, knowing Ahmad watched with great interest, I thrust three fingers inside myself, still spreading his wetness over my engorged clit.

Just as I was arching upward, he grabbed my hands to pull me into a standing position. My eyes flew open, and so did my mouth. ‘You bastard! You spiteful —’

Ahmad laughed, swatting the hem of my tunic back to my knees. ‘Just as there is a lesson in unanswered prayer, we have much to learn from desires left unsatisfied,’ he crooned in that exotic accent. ‘When I see you again, we will resume our quest. Meanwhile, ponder what you’ve seen and heard and learned, my puckery persimmon.’

‘I am not your —’ I hurled the apple at him, aching all over from this latest lesson in frustration. At least Sybil had allowed me release, even if she turned it against me at bedtime.

But Ahmad nimbly snatched the apple from the air. His mystical aura had returned, marked by brown eyes that sparkled with mirth. Stepping towards me, he bit smugly into the apple, spraying my face with its juice.

‘Knowledge is power,’ he said in a snake-like voice. ‘Pay its price, or be forever damned.’

I
curled up on the couch that night, hoping to fall asleep before Sybil finished her kitchen duties. When she opened the cottage door, flicking her cigarette behind her, I was wide awake but didn’t greet her. The afternoon in Father Luc’s office had passed without any direct conflicts, although he seemed to consider my upholstered chair and worktable a challenge to his authority. I sat engrossed in my sewing, facing the window, so I could sort through the confusing events I’d seen during my tour. But I had reached no conclusions. That inner peace Ahmad kept referring to eluded me, chased away by images I didn’t fully understand.

My room-mate walked silently as a cat, so I felt rather than heard her presence at the end of the sofa. ‘Well, damn! I was hoping for another wrestling match tonight.’

‘Better find yourself a different partner, then.’ Through the slit of one eye I watched her cross her arms in the darkness, backlit by the moon.

‘But it’s you I want, Mary Grace. Someone as quick with a retort as I am. Someone who sees this place with fresh eyes.’ Her gaze seemed to penetrate my blanket.

‘Someone fresh, and soft, and so much lovelier than she realises.’

I sighed, curling inward. ‘Sorry to disappoint you — and you’re not the first I’ve done that to today. But take heart,’ I added ruefully. ‘There’s a place for disappointment. It gives us room to improve.’

‘Ah-hah! I have Ahmad to thank for your mood.’

Without preamble, Sybil lifted my feet and sat on the sofa beneath them. She took one foot between her hands and began to knead it with a surprisingly strong grasp. ‘I wondered why you didn’t speak to me at dinner, but I was hoping you were too busy flirting with Brothers Gregory and Jack. Not to mention that fine specimen, Brother Nolan. Now there’s a tongue that knows its way around a cunt.’

I chuckled in spite of myself.

‘So you’ve met him. Tell me about your day, dear. Sister Sybil sees all and knows all, but that doesn’t mean she betrays a confidence.’

This was another facet of my brazen room-mate, a softer side I needed after such an extraordinary first day at Heaven’s Gate. I turned on to my back, folding my arms beneath my head as she continued to ply my foot with firm, soothing strokes. ‘This is the nicest thing that’s happened to me all day. Thank you.’

Sybil’s brow arched. When she turned to look at me in the dimness, I saw a shine in her eyes. ‘Really? Nolan must be losing his touch.’

‘No! It’s just that —’

‘So he did lick you! You’re getting around faster than I’d have thought, Mary Grace!’ She gripped my toes together in a tight bunch, her grin mischievous. ‘I won’t finish this foot until you tell me about it. Every delicious detail.’

I knew better than to deny her, if I wanted any sleep. And it felt good to have a sympathetic listener, someone who might understand my plight better than a man. ‘Brother Christy rescued me from Father Luc’s office for a tour of the grounds this morning, and —’

‘You’re not getting along with the abbot?’

I sighed. ‘He’s overbearing, at best. Peeved because Brother Christy fetched me a chair and a worktable, which he originally denied me.’

‘He’ll get over it. Is your quilt going well?’

‘Oh, yes. The picture’s nearly complete, and I’ll put the layers together tomorrow.’

‘Then he has no reason to glare down his bony nose at you…unless he’s so taken with you he can’t get his own work done. Go on — you were touring.’ Her hands took up my other foot, magically massaging away the knots of tension.

‘I was just in time for the orchard ritual where they fertilise a tree.’

Sybil giggled. ‘Impressive, isn’t it? Just like a bunch of men to rationalise such ludicrous behaviour by calling it a ceremony, when they’re really measuring each other up while having a pissing contest, followed by a come-off.’

I blinked, yet her assessment matched mine. ‘Brother Christy said the women have similar morning exercises with you and Mrs Goodin, in the interest of keeping everyone spiritually attuned rather than —’

‘Horny? Out of control?’ Sybil let out an incredulous snort. ‘Now honestly, Mary Grace! Can you picture Hortense Goodin directing a circle of women who’re fondling themselves?’

‘Well, no,’ I admitted. ‘Her name is Hortense?’

‘Appropriate, eh? As in a whore who’s tense?’ Laughing at her own joke, Sybil ran her fingernails along the soles of my feet. ‘Christy’s a bit deluded if he thinks we kitchen workers hold organised shooting sprees. We take care of our needs as they arise, and then we’re back to work. Much tidier and more efficient.’

‘Oh.’ I tried not to squirm as her touch sent streaks of fine lightning up my legs. ‘I was hoping to use that as a reason for getting out of Father Luc’s office each morning.’

‘You’d rather play with the ladies than pay constant homage to —’

‘It’s not like that! I just want a chance to be around other —’

Sybil silenced me by pressing my feet together and then planting a loud kiss on one of them. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just throwing you a line, because you’re so willing to be reeled in, sweet Mary.’ She cast me a pensive glance, her warm hands still stroking my ankles. ‘Come visit us any time you like. You’re probably quite competent in the kitchen.’

‘I don’t have the impression I’m free to come and go.’

‘Rubbish! Are you chained to that chair?’ she demanded, her eyes shining in the darkness. ‘Just walk out! Hyde didn’t bring you here to be the abbot’s shadow.’

Once again Sybil was showing me a perspective I hadn’t considered, probably because I was so accustomed to doing as I was told…or as I’d been intimidated into believing. Perhaps Ahmad’s talk about new realities and challenges had merit, after all. ‘You may be right.’

‘Of course I’m right! Now get on with your story. Cut right to the part about Brother Nolan,’ she said coyly. ‘Truly an inspiration, that man. Nothing I enjoy more than watching him wink and flash those big blue eyes at me while he’s working his tongue under my muff.’

I cleared my throat self-consciously. ‘He volunteered his medical expertise after I was overcome by the sight of that uh, ceremony. It’s good we have a doctor here at the abbey.’

‘Doctor?’ Sybil laughed raucously. ‘Nolan likes to play doctor, but as far as I know he was doing carpentry and chimney sweeping before he came here.’

Another discrepancy revealed. Or was my room-mate playing Devil’s advocate — throwing me another of those lines because I was such a naïve little fish? Her hands were working up my calves now, relaxing me wonderfully, so I didn’t challenge her. And it wasn’t like I was about to reveal something about other residents she didn’t already know.

‘Well, Brother Nolan did indeed sweep my chimney,’ I quipped, ‘while Brother Jack and Brother Gregory suspended me between them, holding me open for him. Quite a sensation, being held by two naked men while their friend purged me of my distracting libidinous impulses. And Brother Christy looked on as though it happened every day.’

‘That’s all he ever does. I’m not sure if he pleasures himself, or if there’s no equipment hanging under that cassock.’ Sybil glanced at me, while her hands climbed higher. ‘So then you met Ahmad?’

‘Yes. And speaking of equipment,’ I mused aloud, ‘does that man’s pecker always poke out of his pants?’

‘Amazing, isn’t he? I don’t know if he goes around in a constant state of arousal, or if he’s just that glad to be with me — and now you! See how quickly everyone’s come to love you, Mary Grace?’

I wished I could believe that. I wished I felt as comfortable with my new friends as Hyde had promised I would. ‘Did you have trouble adjusting when you first came here, Sybil? I — I feel like a very square peg in a world of round holes.’

My words came out sounding more pathetic than I intended, but the lithe elf at my feet responded with almost maternal compassion. She rose on to her knees, positioning herself between my legs as she faced me. After shoving the coverlet to the floor, she resumed her massage by placing a hand on each of my thighs, levering her weight into each stroke. I realised now where her ministrations might lead, yet I so badly wanted her counsel I didn’t protest.

‘Let me guess which round hole Ahmad tried to peg,’ she ventured softly. ‘And is that why you supposedly disappointed him?’

I nodded, watching her move above me in a steady rhythm that had become the metre of my own breathing. She again wore black pants and shirt, and her panther-like movements made her seem a creature of the night; far more erotic, even fully dressed, than any of the men I’d encountered here. This thought surprised me, for I still had no designs upon Sybil, nor the desire to pursue her as anything other than a friend.

‘Well, we all have our preferences,’ she explained quietly, ‘and dear old Ahmad just likes to enter through the back door. We have no one else of colour here, so who knows how he’d act if he could be with others from his part of the world.’

Her voice had lost the edge she’d cut me with last night. She was simply Sybil, talking woman to woman, and working a subtle spell with her touch. Her fingertips ran up the insides of my thighs, pushing my flimsy nightgown ahead of them. She held it there, studying me for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

‘Look at you,’ she breathed, folding back the fabric so it stayed out of her way. ‘Firm, lovely legs crowned by a heart-shaped bush. Pouty little lips sticking out, begging me to —’

She almost touched me, but then clasped her hands against herself. ‘I forget that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for this. If you want me to leave you be, just say so, Mary Grace. I was rude last night, testing you, but I can see you’ve had a perplexing day.’

‘I asked you a question,’ I replied just as softly.

She smiled, sitting back on her heels. Her expressive hands spanned her own thighs, sighing along the fabric of her pants. ‘Did I have trouble adjusting? you ask. Did I ever feel like a very square peg among a lot of round holes?’ She let her head fall back in thought, making a very provocative silhouette against the moonlit window.

‘I think it was easier for me to come here because, first of all, I wrote my own ticket with Father Luc. I was slaving away in my maiden aunt’s bakery. She raised me, and considered every day’s gruelling work my penance for possessing such a wayward state of mind.’

I chuckled, glad for this insight into Sybil’s past. ‘And you told him your bourbon pecan pound cake would make his cock throb?’

‘Yes, ma’am! And he took me up on that, as well as on various other offers, so I arrived at the monastery with a talent that would make him money, among other things. But I suppose I had an easier time, once I established myself among the monks, because I’ve never been bothered by a conscience.’

She leaned forward again, bracing her hands on my thighs so she could look me directly in the eye. ‘You’re a preacher’s daughter, so guilt and shame come as naturally to you as greed and seduction do to me. Is this making sense, Mary Grace?’

I blinked. ‘It never occurred to me that a human could exist without a conscience. I’ve always been told it was what put us a step above the animals, and kept us on the upward way.’

‘Some of us prefer the low road.’

Did this make Sybil an evil woman? A daughter of the Devil himself? She was now pressing so close against me I could smell cigarette smoke and feel the heat of her body. All I heard was the pounding of my pulse, which matched the throbbing down where my clitoris met the fabric of her pants. She had me trapped, awaiting my spoken reply and my body’s response, yet this felt so different from being Father Luc’s prisoner. I lay beneath her willingly; expectantly. My mouth went dry as I stared up into her slender, sloe-eyed face.

‘I’m trying to understand,’ I rasped. ‘If Heaven’s Gate is a religious retreat where I’ve been told sexual activity is strictly forbidden, why does everyone around me pursue release while calling it something else?’

She flashed me the grin of a vixen, slipping a finger into my wet cleft. ‘Why do children do exactly as they’re told not to? Why do men sneak into whorehouses while their wives take secret lovers?’

I couldn’t answer that. Until I’d met Hyde Fortune and his staff, with their rampant appetites, I wasn’t aware such yearnings existed. I was the daughter of the Reverend Jeremiah Michaels, and I simply hadn’t been exposed to this side of life.

‘Some day you’ll figure it out, Mary Grace,’ Sybil whispered, leaning so low her breath caressed my face. Her fingers stroked steadily between our bodies, further igniting that forbidden fire. ‘And when you do, Lord love us all! I may have to step aside as the Queen of Cunts.’

‘Hah! You’ll never give up that throne!’

With a wicked giggle, she threw her head back and rocked against me in earnest, her gypsy hoops bobbing as her hand probed the depths of my sex. Three of her fingers plied my pussy into a quivering itch demanding to be scratched, while her thumb settled against the nub that now stuck out as blatantly as Ahmad’s amazing member. I bucked against her, raising my legs to invite even deeper thrusts. The sofa creaked and shifted beneath us, until I feared it might collapse, but I was too caught up in those wild inner tightenings to care.

‘Oh, Sybil…Jesus me!’ I rasped, and for all I knew I flew up towards the ceiling with my release. When I came back into myself, I was aware of hands gently stroking my hips as the woman between my shaking legs slowed my breathing by regulating her own.

She sighed. ‘You spent yourself so gloriously I have very wet pants.’

‘Wet from the inside,’ I quipped, and then giggled uncontrollably. ‘And it’s your own damn fault, you know. I was lying here minding my own business when you came in.’

‘Feeling dejected and miserable. Admit it now! Aren’t you just glowing with goodwill and a sense that all’s right with the world?’

Sybil spoke the truth. And I had an inkling of what it might be like to choose the low road, without the inconvenience of a conscience. ‘I feel guilty, indulging in this gratification when I’ve promised myself to Hyde.’