Page 66 of For I Have Sinned

“What are the thoughts you have about her?”

“Celine…” I say her name as a plea.

“Please, Alex.”

The sound of my name falling from her lips as she begs me to tell her breaks the thread of willpower I was holding onto. My breath shudders as I prepare myself for what I am about to say. Before I do, I mumble a small prayer for forgiveness.

“I think about what it would be like to kiss her, how her soft lips would feel against mine. I think about touching her and how her warm skin would feel beneath my fingers.” It’s so quiet that I hear her soft intake of breath. At that sound, I don’t hesitate to continue. “I think about exploring every inch of her perfect body to find which places drive her wild. I think about what she looks like under that white dress and how it would feel to have her body pressed against me.”

She shifts in her seat. “What else?”

I mutter a soft ‘fuck’ under my breath. There is no reason to keep hiding that she’s the woman who’s been consuming my mind like a damn disease.

“I think about fucking you.” I keep my voice low, and the words that leave my mouth make her breath quicken. I grin at the effect that I’m having on her, so I keep going.

“I think about all the places in the convent where I want to be alone with you. Your bedroom. My bedroom. This confessional booth.” I pause because the next confession I’m about to make is absolutely insane. “The damn altar. I want to lay you on it and fuck you as an offering to God.”

A quiet whimper leaves her, and if the words I’ve spoken didn’t make my dick harden, that little noise would have done the trick. She remains mute, and I begin to panic.

Fuck. I went too far.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I crossed a line.”

“Don’t.” She stops me. “Don’t apologize.”

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to ruin this any more than I already have. Movement from my right causes me to look her way, and I watch as Celine leaves the booth.

Falling back into my seat, I let out a sigh and rest my head against the wall. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. My eyes close as I internally yell at myself for being honest with her, but they fly open when I hear my door open.

Celine steps in quickly, shutting the door behind her. It’s a small place, so her legs touch my knees as she stands there. “What are you doing?”

“No one was out there to see me,” she reassures me after hearing the panic in my voice. Her hands grab mine, and I let her. She places them on her hips, and I lightly squeeze my fingertips into her. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

My throat bobs, and I lick my lips. “What is your confession, Celine?”

“I think about you, too.” She gathers the material of her dress just below where I am holding her and begins to drag it up her body.

I drop my hands as she pulls the fabric higher until I can see her underwear. The wet spot on the white cotton is prominent, even in this lighting, and my mouth salivates at the sight. “I know.”

“You know?” she asks in confusion.

I didn’t mean for that to slip out, but since I said it, there is no reason to take it back.

“I heard you,” I inform her. “That first night that I brought dinner to your room. I heard you.”

My eyes lift to hers, and she is looking down at me, eyes full of curiosity.

“Was that the only time you listened to me?” I shake my head. “How many other times did you stand outside my room and listen to me touch myself?”

“More than I care to admit.”

Her mouth tugs into a knowing smile. “And did you only listen?”

“No,” I confess, feeling like a freak that she knows I touched myself to the sounds of her.

“Did I make you come?” Her voice is full of wonder.

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.