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Gliding his fingers along the skin of my left thigh, he gripped it tightly and hitched it over his hip.
I wound one arm around his neck and dropped the other to the zipper on his jeans, working it down until I could reach in enough to free his cock. He abruptly spun us so he was sitting down on the bench and I was straddling his lap.
“Put my dick inside you and ride it. Hard.”
“I don’t—”
“Do it.”
I hovered above him, my heart beating at an uneven tempo. Exhaling a shaky breath, I curled my fingers in the confessional’s divider and slowly sank down, easing him into me.
“Like this.” He gripped my hips and thrust up, burying himself to the hilt, filling me with him entirely.
I choked on a scream that quickly morphed into a moan as he controlled me below, setting a rapid pace for me to keep up with. “Goddamn, Cali, your pussy’s so fucking wet; so fucking tight. So fucking mine.” He slid his hands to my ass, grabbing a globe in each hand, and began drilling into me from underneath.
When he urged me to take over, it took me a minute to find a rhythm. I kept my grip on the divider and rolled my hips, bouncing up and down on his cock. My uninhibited moans echoed inside the church and filled the small confessional booth.
My leg muscles began to burn. Sweat beaded between my heaving breasts. My breaths started coming loud and ragged, intermingling with my pleasure-filled gasps.
“I can’t do––’
“Don’t tell me you can’t. Just fuck me,” he growled.
Dropping my hands to his shoulders, I adjusted my position and began rocking into him, taking him deeper, harder.
“Rome,” I whimpered, dropping my forehead to use.
“That’s it, baby. Use me, make yourself come.” He pressed the pad of his thumb down on my clit and slowly massaged it in a circular motion.
My lower stomach began to tighten and warmth rifled up my spine. He leaned in and swiped his tongue up the side of my neck and bit me. He pushed up into me with one solid thrust. I came so hard I forgot to breathe.
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“Fuck!” I could no longer move. My muscles tensed and I shut my eyes, reveling in the sensation only he could draw out of me. He pulled out a few pumps later, staining the center part of my habit with his come.
“Now seems like a good time to discuss contraception,” I stated, smearing his semen into the black fabric.
“You just fucked me raw inside a confessional. That’s what makes you think of birth control?”
“Rome,” I stressed.
“Why are you worrying about this when all our kids have either gone down your throat or landed somewhere on you? When I want to get you pregnant, I will.”
“Ugh, you’re so poetic,” I deadpanned. I tried to stand up and his hands clamped down on my hips to hold me in place. The wooden bench creaked beneath our shifting weight.
“I don’t need to see you clearly to know you’re pissed off. I can sense it. Don’t be a girl, Cali. Tell me what the problem is.”
“How many girls have you said that to? Are you even––”
“Clean?” he interjected. “If this is you being jealous, you can shut that shit down now. I don’t just stick my dick in anything with a hole. I’m actually pretty picky. And I don’t make a habit of going in raw.
“You’re mine, I want nothing between us. I’d never let any dirty shit touch you. And there is only you, Cali.”
His words were the balm to my irritation. I swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” I whispered in case he couldn’t see my head moving.
He gripped the sides of my face and placed his forehead against mine. “The shit you do to me makes no fucking sense.”
The strain in his voice wasn’t surprising enough to catch me off guard. I felt the same way. Maybe that was the way relationships were meant to be, indefinable with unbreakable bonds. No words were needed to convey what our warped hearts already knew.
