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“Oh? Then what are you, Ms. Fallon?”
Horny. Needy. Desperate.
“Angry. Sad. Disappointed.”
“Then we are of the same mind, you and I.”
“What do you have to be angry about?”
“You.” His lips trailed over the line of my throat, teeth lightly grazing my skin. “The things you make me crave.”
My breaths came in sharp gasps as his other hand slid around my front, resting between my breasts. He had me bound to him, my body pressed tight to his. I could feel his heavy length against my ass, and it took everything in me not to roll my hips.
“What do you crave, Father? What can I give you?”
A low groan left him. “I’m so hungry. It’s been so long.”
“How long?”
“Since I’ve fed from a living source? You were the last.”
How can he go so long? Noah needs to feed every few nights.
“Why?”
“Because it is a temptation I cannot give into.”
“But you have to eat.”
“I do. Bagged blood is easy enough to come by.”
“But it isn’t satisfying?”
“No. It’s a bit like drinking water when all you want is the meal right in front of you.” That tremor rattled his hand again.
“And I’m the meal?”
He sighed, then pressed his lips to my ear. “You’re a fecking feast.”
“Then feast on me. Take what you need,” I said, reaching back to pull my hair over my shoulder and bare my neck.
“Sunday,” he groaned, my name shuddering from his chest.
“I’m giving consent, Caleb. I noticed you didn’t participate in your sacrament, so let me be your communion.”
He tightened his grip, a growl rolling through him as he tipped my head further to the side. “Heathen.”
But then his teeth pierced my skin, hands holding me fast. I gasped and whispered his name as he fed from me, a wash of arousal chasing away any hint of pain. He rolled his hips into me, and I had never wanted us to be naked more than I did right then. Iwasa heathen, desperate for a priest to defile me on the same altar where he’d just performed a sacred rite.
“This is my blood, given for you,” I whispered.
His body trembled, his grasp so tight it was hard to draw in a full breath, but then he pulled away, his lips feathering over my skin as he responded, “Amen.”
I wanted to melt into him, to let him take me in his arms and hold me close. But he stepped back, and I turned around to face him. The expression he met me with was stormy, my blood tinting his lips red.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured.
“Why?”
