How to Sleep Together ✓

08| Sinners on Sunday

D A I S Y 

He's dressed in his Sunday best. A collared long sleeved shirt with a loose tie. I wished I told him how sexy it looked. Seeing him on Sundays always had this effect on me. I nearly always wanted to rip his shirt of, run my hands down his trim body and pull of his jeans. It wasn't any different in the hospital. 

Wilde had always been strange when it came to sex on Sundays. He had no qualms letting me shag him every other day but Sunday's were different to Wilde. He would still hang out with me but he would refrain from kissing me or being intimate with me. 

I'd respected it.

But again, I felt fucking horny and Wilde wasn't doing anything to stop the feeling. It felt stronger. I wanted to close the distance between us and press my lips on his. I wanted to touch him again. To feel his lips on my skin. Wilde didn't notice, already at ease as he plopped down the chair beside my bed.

"Look what I brought," He said. I smelt the sweet smell of lasagna before I saw it. He pulled up a container, covered in steam, a spoon and fork wrapped in tissue. He pulled up the table, setting the lasagna on it and rolling it to me. 

"You're a lifesaver Wilde," I said, trying not to salivate at the sight of real food. Not chocolate or the sweets that I'd woken up to but actual food.

Wilde grinned. I sat up opening the container. I closed my eyes smelling the savory scent of one of the best lasagna ever made. I could feel my appetite rear it's head from the pits of my stomach and I dug in, without a prayer. He waited for me to finish eating patiently, fiddling with his phone. I finished the meal in minutes, turning to glance at him with a satisfied grin. "If I were you," I said, his eyes glancing up to meet mine from his phone. "I'd be fucking fat."

He laughed, "Glad you liked it, Daisy, I'll tell Rue that you did." His eyes darted down to my lips then back to my eyes, "You've got a little sauce here." He pointed to the right corner of his lips. 

My lips opened almost ready to tell him to kiss it off, but I recalled our ending far too quickly and the words died on my throat. Instead I used my lips to reach and lick off the bit of sauce, not really looking at him. 

Constants.

Funny how they shifted.

I had one week left to prove to him that I wasn't sexual enough to divert his attention or focus from Cecile, that I wouldn't do anything to threaten his relationship with her. I wanted him in my life. As pathetic as it sounded, I would do anything to have Wilde still in my life. 

Out of the seven deadly sins, I noticed Wilde's greatest struggle was with lust. Despite his wealth, he was never proud. I'd met my fair share or more of assholes that were proud. It could be his christian upbringing that kept him humble, but I was sure it was just Wilde. He had everything he wanted and never envied anyone, though the same couldn't be said for me. He was slow to anger. He wasn't lazy or ate too much. He was far too generous to be greedy. 

But lust.

I noticed how his eyes tend to stray to my chest, or the way when we kissed he liked to grab my ass. As far as I was aware, I was the only one Wilde touched like that. I'd heard Cecile worry while we dressed for cheer that Wilde never seem to want to do much besides kissing with her. 

He tried to control it, but I seemed to be able to break his control. 

Maybe I wouldn't have if I hadn't caught him jacking off. 

"Gone?" I asked him looking at me. 

"There's a little left," He said. He points to the corner of his lips again. I used my finger to rub it off, getting off the sauce.

"It's gone." He said, smiling. 

"Good, so how's church?"

His eyes lit up. He told me about the visiting pastor and he shared his sermon notes with me. We both knew I wasn't religious. I'd much rather be out shagging than listening to the pastors sermon, but I liked hearing Wilde talked. I liked how much he believed in christianity. I wanted his faith. I wished I believed in it as strongly as he did. 

Because I wanted to believe there was a heaven and my parents would be there, watching over me.

If Heaven did exist, I doubt God would forgive me. He'd probably shake his head and cast me down to the flaming fires of hell and I'd never be reunited with my parents. 

But God took them away from me, leaving with a shell of a life. 

I didn't want to believe that God could be so cruel.

I didn't want to believe in a God.

It was easier blaming everyone else than God.