Forrest glanced over his shoulder. “Uh?”
“When you’re not with clients, I want you to wear this for me until I say otherwise.” Rourke leaned closer again, his strong, woody cologne teasing Forrest’s nose. “And when I find you again, it better be in you still.”
Forrest’s chest stuttered. “Oh.”
He kissed Forrest gently. “Am I clear?”
“Yes,” Forrest gasped out into the kiss. “Yes. Anything.”
“Good boy. Come on, we need to move. Sloan will wonder where we are.”
Forrest groaned. “That’s it?” He peeked at the thick cock trapped in Rourke’s pants. “I could suck you off.”
Rourke’s smile made the disappointment worthwhile. He really didn’t smile enough. “Not tonight. We have guests to entertain.”
Forrest pouted when he stood and glanced at the piece of scrap material formerly known as his thong. “You’re mean.”
“That’s what you like about me.” Rourke brushed their noses together. “I’ll buy you another pair.”
“We should go underwear shopping together.” Forrest didn’t miss the excited desire that flashed in his gaze. “Oh yeah, we’re definitely going shopping together.”
Rourke chuckled and slapped him on the ass. “Get dressed.”
Chapter Nine
After another week of turbulent emotions and being swept up into Forrest’s forcefield of sexiness, Rourke knew when to ask for forgiveness. He’d left it too long and the side of him that believed in a higher being begged for the chance to confess his sins so that he might keep doing what he was doing with a little less guilt. Confession felt deceitful, but who wasn’t a hypocrite at the best of times? Even the bigger worshippers did things against their Bible’s word.
Now he found himself in the church, sitting in the confessional, feeling like an asshole more than anything.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He bowed his head, hands held together in front of the small grated window. “It’s been seven months since my last confession.”
“What took you so long?” the friendly and familiar voice in the next box asked him.
He grinned. He thought it might have been Shay over there, but he didn’t want to assume. “I’ve been busy, Father.”
“Mm-hmm. Confess your sins, my son.”
“I have sinned in many ways in these last seven months. I have allowed a… professional to do things to me.” Rourke wasn’t much of a confessor. He’d mostly done it so he could talk to Shay, who’d been his best friend since they were five. Shay had grown busy during his priesthood, and Rourke thought the only way he could have a chat with him was in the confessional box. But then the other priests figured it out and had kicked Rourke out of the church.
“A professional? Do you speak of a professional sinner, my son?” Rourke didn’t mistake the amusement in Shay’s voice. Shay was mostly a terrible priest, even if he tried hard to make it work.
“I do. He got on his knees and—”
“I’m perfectly aware of what happens when a man gets on his knees in front of another, Rourke.”
“He certainly didn’t pray.” Rourke laughed at Shay’s disgruntled sniffle. “Sorry.”
“I see you have not repented for your homosexual ways,” Shay said.
“No, Father, I haven’t, and I don’t plan to. I have a thing for cocks.”
“Shh.” The grated window slid open so he could see Shay’s face without a barrier. “You can’t say that word in confessional, Rourke.”
“I just did.” He grinned.
“You’re not taking this very seriously.” Shay’s eyebrows furrowed and he pressed his lips in a thin line. “If you’re here as a joke, I strongly advise you to leave.”
“I’m not,” Rourke said. “I’m here to confess my sins.”
