The Secrets of a Sin, page 17
“Don’t stop.” A voice pants desperately as the sounds of skin kneading together tangles in with their moans. In and out, my breathing falters listening to the blatant sounds of sex, and from the screams, it was good sex.
The kind that deserves an audience.
There’s no harm in peeking, right? It’s like porn, but instead of being behind a computer screen, I have a front seat to the show. The moans and cries are as authentic as they can be, so instead of turning away like I should, I don’t. With each step, I can feel their rapturous state pierce through me as my pussy throbs in the worst possible way. Images of Arsen and me in the shower together circulate in my head, imagining our bodies moving against one another uncontrollably.
Fuck.
My throat feels tight, and the dress I am wearing is beginning to melt into my skin as the mix of moans and slapping skin puncture a hole through my center and fill my womb with hunger. So, once I approach a wall that separates them from me, I lean my forehead against the cool tile wall and let the sounds fill my ears.
“Keep moving that pussy, baby.” A rough growl vibrates my thighs. “Yeah. Fuck yeah, right there.”
God damn.
As if my body is under a spell, I shove a hand under my dress skirt and use a finger to push aside my underwear. The steamy air of the shower assaults my clit, and I let out a small cry before sweeping the pad of my finger across my swollen nub.
“This juicy cunt is mine.” The low possessive voice demands. “Isn’t that right?”
I circle harder, laying one palm flat on the wall while the other continues to caress my button. But listening to their dirty words and moans wasn’t enough to bring me over the edge. I needed more. I needed to watch. So, with my hand still under my dress, I ever so slowly peer my head around the corner and almost choke on air as I realize who it is.
It wasn’t just any two people fucking in the showers. It was two of the three girls who had suddenly taken an interest in me, devouring each other with absolutely no care in the world, with their shower curtain open like they wanted to be caught. My mouth drops to the floor as I take in the erotic scene before me. Annalise is wrapped around Priscilla with her head tilted back, and her face contorts into a pained expression with each frantic gyrate of her hip. Priscilla’s palms hold Annalise’s ass in a possessive grip as she grinds into her with brutal force, which sends my heart into a wild frenzy. I feel dirty for watching them, as I’m sure most would if they caught two women fucking, but for me, it was different. But the most messed up part about this whole thing was, as much as I wanted to stop touching myself, I physically couldn’t. Their movements were hypnotic, and the faster they fucked, the livelier my finger became.
Not everyone was addicted to sex. Not everyone would be standing here, imagining what it would feel like to have a woman's soft skin hold you as they obliterated you with their pussy, and made you come without ever having anything inside you. The thought sent shivers down my spine and a spark to my core, but as my eyes continued to observe them, Priscilla dropped to her knees while Annalise pressed her back up against the wall. In a matter of seconds, Annalise’s small thigh lifted and was resting over Priscilla’s shoulder as her mouth latched onto her cunt.
“Softer.” Annalise cries out while her hands seek out her small breasts and her hips swivel over Priscilla's face.
Walk away, Charlotte.
A small voice inside my head shouts, but I can’t tear my eyes off the scene in front of me. I’ve never seen something so erotic in my life. Something so foreign to my eyes that even I couldn’t deny was alluring.
“You gonna come on my tongue, blondie?” Priscilla hums as her hand trails up Annalise’s taut stomach and squeezes her breast.
“Not if you keep teasing my fucking clit like that.” Annalise snarls as her head viciously snaps back on a cry.
“I shouldn’t even let you cum on my tongue after you’ve been a goddamn cunt to me all day.” She bites back but still licks her with the same fervor as before. “I should let you suffer and find someone who appreciates my mouth.”
“Yeah? Is that what you’re going to do?” Annalise laughs darkly, grabbing the opposite breast that’s exposed and squeezing hard. “Find another hot wet cunt to rub on to piss me off?”
Priscilla's muffled groan sends heat throughout my body, and I can feel the beginning of an orgasm twirling within me.
“Then perhaps I’ll have to find someone who doesn’t fucking complain all the time. Maybe try out someone new and beautiful.” She begins to swirl her hips provocatively over Priscilla’s face as her mouth twists into a grin. “Someone you can’t stand.”
A rabid growl tears out of Priscilla’s mouth, and within seconds, she rises off her knees and snatches Annalise’s thigh in a menacing grip. Placing her body between her legs, she thrusts ruthlessly against her center until Annalise circles her arms around her neck.
“Fuck. You. Annalise.” Priscilla grinds out with each wild shove as Annalise holds on for dear life with her eyes tightly closed. “The only pussy you’ll be fucking is mine.”
Circling, dipping inside, and swirling, I fuck myself into unconsciousness. My eyes squeeze shut as my vision begins to blur from the force of the orgasm that strikes me. All the pent-up energy from Arsen, all of his teasing, spiteful words, and the fire he ignites in my belly come barreling in and intensify the blinding climax I’m experiencing.
And then suddenly, I’m fucking flying.
“Then make me cum, dammit.” Annalise grins as their skin slides against one another, and they both groan in unison. Faster and harder, they chase and chase until finally, Annalise rips her eyes open, and with a scream, she meets my eyes. They slam into me like a punch to the gut. I immediately rip my head away from them and fix my dress before sprinting out of the showers.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She caught me. Annalise fucking caught me watching them.
Did she see that I was touching myself like a goddamn creep in the shadows?
I can’t breathe. I can’t even see straight as I race down the hallway with a battering heart. I want to hide forever. I want to somehow travel back in time where I would know not to go into the showers, so I could avoid the embarrassment of having to confront them now.
How the hell were they going to take this? Would they be pissed? Would they call me a freak?
I want to die.
Finally reaching the safety of my room, I rush inside and slam the door until my breathing slowly evens out and my heart rate steadies.
What in the fuck just happened?
15
ARSEN
Art was my escape. Painting was what truly saved me from fully submerging into the darkness that consumed me. I needed a hobby-something to distract me from my dangerous thoughts and everyday life that seemed to be weighing me down constantly. I was fucking lost.
Empty.
With no hope for a future.
Then, one day, I picked up a paintbrush. The wooden handle reminded me of the shovel from the basement. The feeling felt the same. I felt the same power when I held it, but where one was for destroying evil, the other was for something good. I purchased paints, canvases, brushes and decided to try it out on a whim. I’m not going to lie. I was fucking awful at first. Nothing was speaking to me. Portraits were a hell no. Realism, absolutely not. Then one day, I decided to go to a vacant cemetery where I set up and painted what I saw. Dark, eerie colors filled the canvas, and the person who always makes an appearance in all my paintings. I kept him hidden in the shadows, and that became my unique signature. My paintings began to circulate the world of art because of that recurring lonely man in the background. Different expressions, different postures, he was a mysterious enigma that people wanted to know. To me, he was just someone I envisioned in my head, but others think it’s how I perceive myself.
And perhaps they’re right.
As I sit in my studio, I focus on a bird outside my window that’s perched upon a tree branch. A large black raven with eyes as black as a witch’s cauldron and wings that flutter out as if he wants to fly off.
“Arsen?” Phoebe’s short frame comes into view as I continue to scrub the kitchen floors on my hands and knees. My head quickly lifts in panic, seeing her tiny face pressed up against the window with the broomstick dangling from her hand.
Christ, is she trying to get us whipped?
“Phoebe, get away from the window.” I whisper-shout across the room, feeling my nerves hit an all-time peak. I knew he was most likely passed out on the couch by now, but I didn’t want to risk it. The last time we were caught not doing our chores, we were both left with marks from our defiance.
“But there’s a pretty bird outside.” She spins her head, catching my aggravated stare. “Come look.” She ushers me over with a wave of her hand and a grin across her mouth.
Grunting, I peer over my shoulder, listening for the sounds of the T.V playing in the background, but all I hear are the soft snores coming from the living room. Somewhat relieved at hearing the annoying sound, I gradually rise off my sore knees and tiptoe over to Phoebe. “Are you trying to get us killed?” I shake my head as I come to a stop beside her. She frowns, immediately causing my heart to sink in my chest from her regretful expression. I know I shouldn’t be pissed, but I am only trying to protect her.
Sighing, I turn my head, and peer out of the glass. “It’s just a pesky crow.” I mumble, staring at the bird as it stands in the grass.
“It’s so pretty, Arsen.” She responds in awe as she presses a palm against the window as if she wants to touch it.
Grunting, I glance down at her pert little nose. “There’s way prettier birds out there.”
Her face scrunches up in disbelief, and she scowls. “It looks lonely like the black unicorn.” She mutters, remembering the story I told her a few months ago. “Just because you think it’s ugly doesn’t mean it doesn’t deserve love.” I watch as a lone tear trails down her cheek, making me feel like a complete and utter asshole.
“Phoebe, I didn’t…” I begin to apologize when she quickly cuts me off.
“I think it’s the prettiest bird in the world.”
Buzz.
Buzz.
The vibrating of my phone quickly snaps me out of the memory I’m experiencing, and I roughly bring the device to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mr. Hale I’m speaking with?” A man replies.
“Who’s asking?” Dragging my eyes away from the window, I straighten up on my stool and wait for a response.
“Yes, hi, my name is John Carrington. I am the coroner down at Johnson County Coroner's office.”
My heart rate instantly climbs as my grip on the phone tightens to a painful degree. The last I’ve spoken with him was right after Phoebe’s death, and the agony was still very fresh.
“Our testing results for Phoebe came back later than expected, and I was wondering if you could stop by at your earliest convenience so we can go over them?”
Fuck that. I wasn’t going to be able to wait another goddamn second for answers when I had him right here on the phone with me. Rising off the chair, my anxiety sores along with the anger that's been brewing deep inside my belly. “Just tell me now.” I demand, pacing the room with heavy feet.
“Sir, I think it’s best you come…”
“I think it’s best you give me some fucking answers, John. I’ve waited this damn long for a retest, and I deserve to know what you found.” I manage to stay calmer than I normally do, but I can tell I’m not far from cracking.
On a sigh, he finally gives me what I want. “The cause of death is suicide. A fatal gash to the trachea.” My breathing collapses.
No. That can’t be right. That can’t be fucking right. My throat hardens, and the words I want to say never come out. I was frozen like a statue. A deer caught in the headlights. Phoebe couldn’t have killed herself. She wouldn’t.
“And we also discovered something new that was overlooked in our first testing.”
Then suddenly, a flicker of hope ignites inside my chest.
“She was pregnant.”
What?
“To be exact, she was around eight weeks along.”
Kneeling on the ground, my stomach twists tortuously, causing every other organ in my body to knot as well.
Pregnant.
Phoebe was fucking pregnant.
Every vein in my arm feels ready to combust as my fierce grip tightens around my phone, but the physical pain I am experiencing is nothing compared to the cruel gash that was just driven deep into my heart. She was carrying a life. Our bloodline. My future niece or nephew.
“Sir, are you there?”
Ending the call, I chuck my phone clear across the room and it completely shatters on impact. My palm fists my chest as the other smashes the wall beside me.
Pregnant.
There’s no way Phoebe ended her own life knowing she was carrying a child. Of all the things she dreamt of as a kid, having a family was one of her main ambitions in life. She wanted the husband, the five kids, the white picket fence. She wanted it all.
And now it was all ripped away from her.
Squeezing my fists as tightly and painfully as I can, I let the hot burn of rage enter me, then trail up towards my head where ideas of what to do next filter my mind. I can’t just sit here and weep. My body and heart won’t allow me to. So, rising to my feet, I rush around the house searching for my keys, and once I have them, I head outside to my car.
If anyone was going to hear my wrath, it was St. Catherine’s.
And I'd make sure I’d burn it into their heads that I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Not now. Especially not after this.
“I told you you’re no longer welcome here, Arsen.” Cora orders from behind her desk as I plant both hands on the wooden surface. Getting her full attention wasn’t a difficult task when I knew just how badly she still desired me. As much as she wanted to hate me, her body clearly thought differently.
“You should know by now that I don’t follow the rules.” I respond, noticing her eyes peer up from her paperwork. Her mouth opens slightly as a short exhale of air rushes out from between her lips. She quickly removes her black-rimmed glasses from her face before focusing solely on me.
“I’m not doing this with you, Arsen. Either you get out of my office, or someone will escort you out.” Her chest heaves, but the glimmer in her eyes tells me she’s enjoying my attention. Leaning over her desk, I knock over a picture frame in the process and tighten my jaw.
“I highly fucking doubt you want me gone, Welch.” I grind out. “Even if you wanted me gone, you know I wouldn’t let that happen.”
Her bottom lip becomes swallowed by her top teeth as she digs the sharp ridges into her flesh.
God, she was too fucking easy.
“What is it you want?” She demands angrily. “To defile the school’s name? Threaten us at knife point again? What could you possibly want?”
Slowly pulling back, she watches me with wary eyes as I take a step away from the desk. I want to wring her goddamn neck for letting this happen to Phoebe. How could the principal of a respected school let a student get savagely murdered on school grounds? And a pregnant student, at that.
“I want this school fucking shut down. Burned to the ground, whatever it takes to make it disappear off the face of the earth.” I growl, watching as her frame jumps back slightly in her swivel chair. “And you.” I point a finger in her direction, causing her face to immediately pale. “I blame you.”
“Arsen…” She scoffs in disbelief, but her tone cracks as if she is about to cry.
“Phoebe was fucking pregnant!” I snarl, and her eyes widen in complete shock. My words echo throughout the room, so I wouldn’t be surprised if others heard me, but I could care less if they did. I’d gladly shout it over the intercom to expose this fucking school for what it really is.
A fraud.
A hazard to every student that went here.
“I… I didn’t.” Tears begin to fill her eyes, but sympathy is an emotion I’ve never experienced, so watching her cry in front of me was nothing more than an annoyance.
“You didn’t realize it because you don’t really care, Cora. And why should you?” I snap. “She wasn’t your daughter, your sister, or related to you in any other way. She was just another troubled girl that filled your school until…”
“Stop it.” She orders sharply as her crying intensifies. Her body shakes uncontrollably, and finally, I feel my insides ignite with power.
“And if you think for one second that Phoebe would’ve killed herself knowing she was pregnant, you’re all fucking clueless.” I shout, glaring daggers through her eyes until she looks away.
Gripping the door handle, I rip it open and storm out of her office until I’m standing in the middle of the corridor with skin that burns painfully. Angry wasn’t the right word for how I was feeling right now. I was beyond livid. Dangerous and lethal, my hands shake uncontrollably at my sides as if they needed something to squeeze, something to hurt.
Standing stoic, my breathing remains erratic while my heart pounds like a jackhammer, desperate to escape the safety of my chest. Being in St. Catherine’s wasn’t exactly making things better either. The sweet smell of the school was making my stomach churn violently.
“Arsen?” A foreign voice asks from behind me, causing my form to stiffen. Quickly spinning around to see who it is, I meet the eyes of a pretty redhead. Her fiery hair was what stood out to me at first, but then, as I moved my stare over her freckled face, her green eyes sucked me in.
“Do I know you?” I question rudely, not in the mood to talk to anyone.
Rocking on her heels, she grins softly before shaking her head back and forth. “No, but I know you. I’ve seen you with my friend Charlotte.”
My ears perk up the second Charlotte’s name falls out of her mouth. Was Charlotte talking about me? And what exactly was she saying?
