Pleasure Unbound

The DEVIL In Me

Lying on the bed of my childhood room should have been a nostalgic experience. Instead, I stared up at the ceiling, boxes in my periphery, and the alarm blaring next to me.

What the fuck happened?

I rubbed my face, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed, slamming my hand down on the alarm as I stood. There was very little room to maneuver around the already small room, but I’d already filled up the basement and half the garage with all the shit I’d accumulated in my life. I cursed when I slammed my toe into the wheel of the suitcase on the floor, giving it a swift kick before grabbing some clothes out of it.

The house remained quiet as I made my way to the bathroom. I sighed as I looked down at the boner curving my cock up. Pissing with one annoyed the crap out of me, but had become a daily thing since sex for me was non-existent lately.

Once I threw on the random jeans and shirt I’d grabbed, forgoing styling my hair for now and doing the basic morning routine, I headed downstairs. The smell of coffee perked me up a little, and I grabbed a cup as I made a quick bowl of oatmeal before finding my mom sitting in the living room.

“Morning.” I kissed her forehead and sat down on the couch, placing the oatmeal in front of her.

She smiled at me, and the sight depressed me, but I tried not to show it. Her face had become a shade of sickly yellow, there were dark circles under her eyes, and every bit of her hair was gone. I hardly recognized her as the woman I’d known my entire life. “Good morning, sweetie.”

“How are you feeling?” I reached forward and grabbed the multiple pill bottles sitting on the coffee table.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

I dished out the four pills for her morning dosage and handed them to her along with some water. Her face scrunched up.

“Jared, I don’t think…”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“Mom, don’t fight me on this. Not again.”

“I’m nauseous.”

“And one of these will help with that, but you have to get it and that oatmeal in you.” I handed her the bowl and stared at her as she took a tentative bite.

She’d lost her appetite with all the treatments and drugs. The biggest fear I had was of her giving up. I wasn’t about to let that happen, especially not with my sister pregnant.

“I have some clients at one, but I’ll be home by five. Cassie’s off today. She has a doctor’s appointment this morning, and then she’ll be by.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m fine by myself, you know. I’m not an invalid.”

I stood up and grabbed the phone, setting it on the table next to her.

“No, you’re not, but this is always the rough day. I’ll be back soon.”

Her expression dropped-a contrast to her words. She didn’t want to be alone, no matter what she said. “Where are you going? I thought you didn’t have to work until this afternoon.”

“Just running an errand. I’ll be back soon.” I picked up her Kindle from across the room and set it next to the phone. “Read something today.

TV will rot your brain.” I winked at her.

She rolled her eyes and swatted at me. “Get out of here, stinker.”

I beamed at her and headed out the door and onto the street. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and a warm breeze blew-

About fucking time. It’d been the longest winter in my thirty-one years.

It was a great day for a walk down to St. Joan of Arc, a Catholic church a few blocks from the 1920s cottage, in a historic neighborhood of Indianapolis, that my parents purchased over thirty years ago. My parents were raised in two different religions, so we didn’t go to church that often- about once a month-but Joan of Arc was one of the more steady locations.

I believed in God. Period. So, what did it matter what church I visited to talk to Him?

Stepping into the church felt a little odd-it’d been years since I’d been within its walls. The cumbersome weight of my head and heart slowed my walk down the aisle. I slipped into a pew about halfway down and folded my hands together. The place was empty.

“Hey, big man.” I sighed and fidgeted with my hands. “I know I’m not good at visiting, and I should come more often. People stare when I do, always assuming, but you know the truth.” I leaned forward, resting my arms on the back of the pew in front of me. “I have to ask-are you testing me? Because if you are, did you have to throw so much at me at once?”

I stared up at the altar, lit up by the sun shining through the stained glass windows all over the stone structure. No response to my question came-not that I expected one.

“I can deal with all of it, but Mom…” I took a deep breath, trying not to let her condition get to me. “Cassie was a wreck when she found out about the cancer. You took Dad three years ago, and I’m not sure Mom has

the strength to fight this. She’s still heartbroken.”

I leaned back, my gaze tracing over Jesus on the cross, and got lost in my head. In the time I sat there, still as a statue, a few people came and went. I didn’t look at them, but I felt their eyes on me as they passed. Most thought I worshiped the Devil or some shit like that because of the way I looked. Tattoos covered a lot of my skin, and my jet-black hair, often in a short mohawk, gave off a taboo vibe to most of the church-going folk.

I could admit it-I had a nice body. Being a personal trainer meant I had to be able to do everything I put my clients through.

The nerves on my neck lit up, tingling down my side. It woke me from my trance, and I turned to find innocent eyes looking at me from one row up on the other side of the aisle. When our gazes connected, she didn’t flinch, her eyes didn’t widen, but a slight blush did appear on her cheeks.

The strange current continued to move through me.

I was caught, roped in, staring at her.

She seemed young-early twenties maybe. I went from studying Jesus to studying the woman who called me. That was the only way I could explain the firing off of every nerve ending in my body.

She had large, blue doe eyes that bored into my soul. Dark brown, wavy hair curled around her smooth, pale skin and full cheeks. She nabbed her full bottom lip with her teeth before looking away, hiding from me.

It didn’t stop me from staring at her. I tilted my head to the side, forehead scrunched as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened -and why my cock was so hard. It was just a look, but at the same time, it felt like so much more. A connection, and not that love-at-first-sight bullshit.

Base level between a man and a woman-a need that populated the earth.

Our strange interaction caused images of fucking her on the altar to course through my mind. Was she as untouched as her innocent face suggested? She looked soft, inviting, and corruptible. How would her full hips feel beneath my hands as I thrust my cock into her?

I turned back to the front and began to ask for forgiveness for the sinful things I was thinking about doing to her. My dick, however, continued to dream. A small groan slipped from my lips, and her head snapped up. I cupped my cock through my jeans, adjusting it so it didn’t press so hard against the seam. It twitched against my palm as she squirmed in her seat.

Fuck.

I sat still, staring at her profile. Her lips parted, skin pink, and she moved her ass again. I blew out a breath to calm myself. It was ridiculous. I was just horny because I hadn’t had sex since Monica gave me a break-up fuck three months prior.

After a few minutes, she stood and headed to the confessional. I couldn’t help but turn to look at her delectable ass as she walked. Soft curves called to me, begging me to touch them, own them.

As soon as she stepped out of sight, I ran down the steps to the restroom and locked myself in. I splashed some water on my face, staring at the image in front of me. Someone else stared back. My brown eyes were almost black, lids heavy with a force of lust I’d never experienced.

My teeth clenched, muscles coiled tight as my hips rocked, searching for her. I grabbed hold of the sink, my breath heavy and hard.

What is wrong with me?

It was overpowering. An internal battle for control waged as consuming need pumped through my veins. I popped open my jeans and pulled out my cock. It didn’t matter that I stood in the bathroom of a church -I had to get off before I went insane.

I shuddered as I wrapped my hand around my hard dick, the force almost sending me to the ground. It throbbed, overly sensitive, and I had a hard time keeping my focus on the task with each intense stroke. My imagination went wild with thoughts of touching her, of pulling her out of the confessional and bending her over a pew.

I wanted her with a primal intensity that consumed me. Fuck her raw. Make her need me as much as I was suddenly dying for her. I wanted to hear her screams bouncing off the stone walls, mark her with my come.

Taint her innocence, then fuck her all over again.

A roar ripped through me, every muscle strained to the limit. My balls were tight, and with a few hard tugs, I exploded all over the mirror and sink. I couldn’t stop coming, my body jerking hard with each spurt.

My legs gave out, and I sprawled out onto the floor, trying to breathe again. Come continued to drip out of my dick.

Once again, I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck happened.