Two Stripes #2
“What do you mean?” I managed to ask, trying to keep my voice steady as his thumb massaged my clit with maddening slowness.
Instead of answering, he lowered his head between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue made me gasp, my hands flying to his hair. He'd done this before, but tonight felt different — like he was trying to taste the change in me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on the pleasure and not the panic rising in my chest.
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider, exposing me completely. I felt his gaze even with my eyes closed, felt him watching my reactions as his tongue delved deeper. When my hips bucked involuntarily, he pressed them back down with firm hands.
“Stay still,” he commanded against my flesh, the vibration of his words sending shivers through me.
I was close already, my body betraying my mind's resistance.
The hormones coursing through me had heightened everything — every touch, every sensation magnified beyond reason.
When he slipped two fingers inside me while his tongue continued its relentless attention, I couldn't hold back the cry that escaped my lips.
My orgasm built like a storm, and when it broke, tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. He moved up my body slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. When his face was level with mine, he paused, hovering just inches away. I felt the head of his cock moving up and down my pussy.
“And Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived,” he quoted Genesis and pushed in with one steady thrust.
I gasped at the fullness, at the way he filled me completely. His eyes burned into mine, searching, knowing.
“I know you’re pregnant.”
The words fell between us like a stone in still water, ripples of consequence expanding outward. My entire body went cold despite the heat of him inside me.
“How—” My voice cracked. I couldn't finish the question.
Judah's hips stilled, but he remained buried deep within. His hand came to my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted the hardness in his eyes.
“You think I don't know your body?” he murmured.
“The way you've been sick in the mornings? How your breasts have changed?” His hand drifted down to cup one, thumb brushing over the sensitive nipple.
I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through me.
“The way you're swollen here—” his hips shifted slightly, making me gasp, “—more than usual.”
I turned my face away, but he caught my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“And then there are the three tests neatly tucked away at the bottom of your bag,” he continued, his voice soft but relentless. “Three tests, Mercy. Were you hoping for different answers?”
I froze beneath him, my body rigid with shock. My mind raced through the possibilities — had he gone through my bag while I was cooking dinner? Had he been watching me this whole time, playing with me like a cat with a mouse?
“Get off me.” I pushed against his chest.
He didn't move. Instead, his weight pressed more firmly against me, pinning me to the bed.
“That's not how this works,” he said, his voice honey-smooth but with an edge.
His hips began to move again, slowly, thrusts that my body responded to despite everything. My hands pushed against his shoulders, but it was like trying to move stone.
“Stop,” I said, my voice stronger now. “Judah, stop.”
Something shot across his face — disappointment, perhaps, or calculation — before he withdrew from me in one fluid motion. He rolled to his side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with those pale, unreadable eyes.
I jumped out of the bed — unsure what had gotten over me. “You do that again, and God is my witness, I will fucking kill you.”
I stumbled backward, fixing my nightgown with shaking hands. Judah remained on the bed, watching me with a stillness that was more threatening than any movement could have been.
“Mercy,” he said my name like a prayer, almost… amused. “Come back to bed.”
“You went through my things.” My voice was steadier than I felt, anger burning through the fear. “You had no right.”
A smile touched the corner of his mouth, not reaching his eyes. “No right? To know about my child?”
The word hit me like a physical blow. My child. As if it were already decided, already his.
“I haven't decided anything yet,” I said, each word precise.
He sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around his waist. His bare chest caught the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting half his face in shadow.
“There's nothing to decide,” he replied, a slight crease between his dark eyebrows.
“It is my body—” I argued.
“It is God’s will.”
“Is it God's will when young girls disappear from this town?” I shot back, wrapping my arms around myself. “Was that what God wanted when old men put golden cherries in their hands?”
The stillness that came over him was absolute. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd gone too far — pushed beyond some boundary that couldn't be crossed. When he finally moved, it was with the careful grace of a predator, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“You've been talking to Hall.” Not a question. A statement delivered with such cold certainty that I felt the air leave my lungs.
“I've been asking questions,” I corrected, backing toward the bathroom door. “Questions I should have asked months ago.”
Judah stood, naked and unashamed in the moonlight. He reached for his robe, left hanging over the back of an armchair, and slipped it on without taking his eyes off me. “Mercy,” he said, his voice softening. “You're upset. Your hormones are—”
“Don't,” I cut him off, fury rising. “Don't you dare dismiss me like that.”
He tied the belt of his robe. “What is it you want to do? Leave? Be a single mother? Or worse — kill an innocent soul because its parents can’t see eye to eye?”
The word “kill” landed between us like a physical blow. I flinched.
“I haven't said anything about—” I stopped myself, realizing I was being drawn into his framing. “This isn't about that. This is about what I found. About what you're doing in this town.”
Judah moved toward me, and I retreated until my back hit the bathroom door.
“What I'm doing,” he repeated softly, “is carrying on a tradition that has sustained this community for generations. What exactly do you think you understand about St. Francisville after a few months here?”
“I understand enough,” I said, my hand finding the doorknob behind me. “Those girls—”
“Are cared for,” he finished. He was close enough now that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body. “Just as you have been.”
The implication wasn't lost on me. My throat tightened. “Is that what this was? You... taking care of me?”
Something shifted in his expression — a hint of genuine emotion breaking through the careful mask.
“No,” he said, his voice lower. His gaze drifted to the side and he sighed — turned around and retreated.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he murmured, turning against the window. “But you took that fucking cherry.”
My blood ran cold. “What did you say?”
He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “The gold cherry. The one Hargrove gave you. You took it. You started the bidding.”
“I…” I stepped back. “I didn’t know.” I said it so quietly I doubt he even heard me.
“You think I wanted this for you? You think I don’t know what I preach are lies that console nobody but me?” He took a deep breath. “I bought you because if I hadn’t, you would’ve been taken care of.”
The air in the room seemed to solidify around me. “Bought me? You... bought me?” My voice was a whisper, barely audible over the pounding in my ears.
“I outbid Hargrove and three others,” Judah said, his voice almost gentle now. “I made sure you ended up with me instead of...” His gaze drifted toward the window. “Instead of where the others go.”
“Where do they go?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, though part of me already knew the answer.
Judah's silence was answer enough.
I pressed a hand against my stomach, suddenly aware of what was growing inside me — a child conceived in a transaction I hadn't known I was part of. My legs threatened to give out beneath me.
“You are a pastor,” I emphasized, in shock. I couldn’t make sense of it.
“I'm a Beaumont first,” he said, his voice hardening. “You have no idea what that means. What responsibilities come with it.”
The doorknob pressed painfully into my spine — I kept stepping back and there was no back to step anymore. “So what happens now? I'm your property? This baby is your property?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You're the mother of my child. That’s it.”
“And if I don't want to be?” I asked, my voice steadier than I expected. “If I want to leave?”
“Then leave,” he said.
The simplicity of his answer staggered me. I hadn't expected that — had braced myself for threats, for violence, for the mask to slip completely.
“You'd let me walk away?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.
Judah moved to the armchair by the window and sat down. Moonlight caught the angles of his face, turning him into something carved and monolith. “If that’s what you want.”
“I… I am confused,” I said. “I… You must leave — I need to think.”
He turned his head toward me with a cocked eyebrow. “Leave?”
I realized how that may have sounded, but I really wanted him gone right now. “Please.”
Judah stared at me for a long moment, then rose from the chair. “You want me to leave my own bedroom?”
“Yes.” The word came out stronger than I felt.
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Very well,” he agreed, much to my surprise. “For how long, may I ask?”
“For tonight,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “I need to think.”
Judah nodded once, the gesture almost formal. He crossed to the dresser and removed a few hangers of clothes — for tomorrow, I assumed. The domesticity of it felt obscene after what he'd just revealed.
“I'll be in the east guest room,” he said, moving toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, his back to me. “Mercy.”
I didn't answer.
“Whatever you're thinking right now — whatever you're feeling — remember that there are things in motion that were set long before you arrived. Things you don't understand.”
“I understand enough,” I repeated, the words hollow even to my own ears.
He turned his head slightly, profile sharp in the dim light. “No,” he said softly. “You don't.”
The door closed behind him with barely a sound.
I slid down to the floor, my back against the bathroom door, and pressed my palms flat against the hardwood to stop their trembling. The room felt cavernous without him in it. And yet I didn’t feel any better with him gone.