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“What about me?”
“Anything,” I say. “What are you thinking about right now?”
He considers that for a second. “I probably shouldn’t tell you,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because it’s embarrassing,” he replies, his voice dropping into something that sounds like a dark, breathy whisper. “And it’s private.”
I bite down on my lower lip. It’s hot outside, but the air between us feels electrified, even hotter than before. Maybe it’s just me. But I don’t move at all, and I wait for him to continue, all while I wonder if he even is going to continue at all.
“But do you really want to know?” he says in a whisper.
“Yes,” I reply, then nudge him with my elbow. “C’mon, Father Salinas. Confess.”
He snorts. I love it when he laughs. When he smiles.
“I’m thinking about how beautiful you are,” he says. “I’m thinking about how much I wish I could wrap my arms around you right now and feel your lips against mine. How much I wish I could take your mind off all this shit.”
“By doing what?”
I feel him swallow next to me. I probably shouldn’t have asked that, but I’m so fucking curious, and he’s so close, and he smells so fucking fantastic—I can’t stop myself. I can feel heat uncurling in the pit of my stomach as he inches even closer to me, his pinky against mine.
This is the first time I’ve been close enough to him to smell him, and his scent is a mild mix of soap and incense.
“By making you come,” he says, his lips only inches away from my ear. “Until the only thing you can think about is your pleasure.”
“You…like me?” I ask, practically stumbling over my words.
He laughs, obviously disconcerted. “What is there not to like?” he says. “You’re so beautiful, and smart, and funny. I’m made of flesh and blood. And I like women. It would be so hard not to notice you.”
I bite down on my lower lip. “I wasn’t expecting this,” I say.
“I still want us to be friends,” he says. “I don’t want you to be self-conscious around me. I don’t want our dynamic to change. But, honestly, it’s hard to look at you and know that the two of them have had sex with you and I’ll never get to see what your face looks like when you come. It’s selfish. Stupid. And it feels like it’s the only thing I can think about.”
I slide my hand down the front of my body, toward my breasts, and I can hear his breath catching in his throat. I didn’t expect to be as turned on as I am when he looks at me, but his gaze is electrifying, and as his breathing quickens, so does mine. “You don’t have to touch me,” I say. “Watching isn’t a sin, right?”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. If it is, I can repent later.”
I hitch up my skirt, leaning back on the railing. I hear his breath catch, and I slide my fingers into my panties, running the tips of them along my clit and sending a shiver up my spine. I’m already so turned on, and the way he’s looking at me—the hunger written all over his face, the fact that he won’t move to touch me.
He's just watching me, his gaze flitting between my face and my hand.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says as I press a finger inside of me, my legs shaking when I do. He lowers his voice so that he can whisper into my ear. “I bet you’re really tight. Are you wet?”
I tilt my head back, my eyes closed as I start speeding up. I’m soaked, and I’m sure he can hear it, especially as I start to go faster.
“I wish I could feel you with my fingers,” he says. “I wish I could bend you over this railing and fuck you until you scream my name.”
“Fuck,” I say, fingering myself a little harder, letting myself get closer and closer to my orgasm. My legs shake and pleasure spreads from the core of my body through to my extremities, until it’s all I can think about, fireworks exploding across my skin.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asks.
“Jesus,” I say.
He inches closer to my ear, until his breath is so hot against my ear that it tickles me. “No,” he says. “But if you want, you can call me Father.”
I have to bite down on my lower lip not to scream, my body jerking as my orgasm takes over my body, every single one of my nerves tingling as he murmurs dirty things in my ears, and when I finish—when I really finish, and I’m too sensitive to touch myself anymore—I feel like I need to slump over and pass out.
