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Priest’s Sin

Page 31

by Zoey Rose

My cock throbs, demanding attention I shouldn't give it. I press my forehead against the tile. The water pounds against my shoulders and back. Steam fills the small space until I can barely see.

I shouldn't do this.

Haven't touched myself like this in years. Not since before seminary, when I was young and still thought desire was something I could control through discipline alone. When I took my vows at twenty-five, celibacy seemed like a small price to pay for serving God.

It didn't feel like sacrifice then. It felt like purpose.

And after I left the priesthood? After Elaine died and I walked away from everything I'd built?

I still didn't break that habit. Didn't see the point. Spent years wandering from town to town, getting into fights, teaching myself violence instead of pleasure. Never met anyone who made me want to.

Until her.

Until Paige with her sharp tongue and those gray eyes that see too much. Until tonight when she looked at me across a diner table and asked questions nobody else bothered to ask. Until she put on my clothes and trusted me enough to sleep three feet away from me.

My hand wraps around my shaft before I can talk myself out of it.

The first stroke pulls a low groan from my throat. I bite it back quickly. She's just outside that door, and I can't let her hear this. Can't let her know what I'm doing.

But god, it feels good.

The hot water makes everything slick. Makes the slide of my fist smooth and perfect. I tighten my grip and stroke again, slower this time, drawing it out.

I should feel guilty. Should stop immediately. Should remember every sermon I ever gave about lust, temptation and the discipline required to resist base desires.

Instead, I stroke faster.

Imagine Paige on the other side of that door. Imagine her taking off my T-shirt. Imagine all that soft skin revealed inch by inch: full breasts, rounded stomach, thick thighs that would feel perfect wrapped around my waist.

What would she look like naked? Would she be shy about her body or confident? Would she let me touch her? Explore every curve with my hands and mouth until I've memorized every response?

I've never had sex. Never been inside anyone. Never experienced what I spent years counseling other people about without any real understanding.

Thirty-five years old and still a virgin by choice and circumstance and a devotion to principles I'm not sure I believe in anymore. But with Paige, I want to. God help me, I want to give her something I've never wanted to give anyone else.

Want to know what it feels like to slide inside her. To feel her body accept mine. To hear the sounds she makes when she comes apart.

Would she be tight? Wet? Would she tell me what she needs, or would I have to learn through trial and error?

I stroke faster, grip tighter. My free hand braces against the tile to keep me upright. Water streams down my body. My cock is leaking now, pre-come mixing with the water, making everything even slicker.

I imagine pushing her back onto that motel bed. Tearing down the pillow wall between us because it's pointless anyway. We both know it's there to protect us from something we might actually want.

Imagine pulling those sweatpants down her legs. Spreading her thighs. Seeing her pussy for the first time. Would she be bare or natural? Already wet for me or needing coaxing?

I'd take my time. Use my mouth first. Learn what makes her gasp and arch and beg. Learn where to lick and suck and how much pressure to apply. Make her come on my tongue before I ever tried to push inside her.

Because I'd be gentle. Wouldn't I?

Or would years of pent-up need make me rough? Make me grip her hips hard enough to bruise and thrust deep enough to make her cry out?

Would she like that? Would she want gentle or would she want someone who could match the intensity she keeps hidden behind sharp words and defensive walls?

My strokes are rough now. I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine. Feel my balls drawing up. Feel every nerve ending in my body focusing on this single point of pleasure.

So close. Just a few more strokes. Just a little more pressure.

Just….