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Huffing a sigh, he runs his hand through his hair and down his face, and I know, by that gesture alone, he’s finished with this conversation. Which means, somehow, I’m going to have to work up the balls to push one of those World Famous Knives through Calvin’s spinal column on my own.
“I want to help you, Ivy, but in spite of what you think you know, I’m not some killer for hire.”
“Then, we have nothing else to discuss.” Spinning on my heel, I only just reach out for the knob, when I’m yanked backward and his hard chest collides with my back.
“We do have something else to discuss. This tension has to stop. My mind has been filled with a number of dirty, sinful thoughts. Ones I can’t seem to shake.”
“I’m afraid, if you can’t help me, then I can’t help you.”
“You put this fucking curse on me. Ten years, I’ve remained celibate, and all I can think about is being inside you.” Admittedly, the visual of that sends a ripple across my thighs. “I want whatever game this is to end.”
“Did you delete my picture?”
“I have every intention of deleting it.”
I snort at that and feel his grip around me tighten. “But you haven’t, yet. Why is that?”
“Because what I want is forbidden. And for now, it curbs that craving, but at some point, it won’t be enough.”
“So, what do you want me to do about it?”
The brush of his lips at my ear sends a tickle across the back of my neck. “I want you to find another church. Another priest to torment. I’ll see what I can do to help your situation, and then that’s it. No more emails. No more pictures. No more temptations.”
“So, you intend to cast me from the flock because you can’t control your own urges.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to ante up, Father. A few church pamphlets on domestic abuse don’t cut it.” My body spins around fast—too fast.
“Why are you doing this? Why me? Why not hire someone to do your dirty work?”
“Because I will do whatever I have to, just to get that evil prick out of my life. Even if that means fuckingyouover.” Palm sliding over the thick bulge protruding from his slacks, I grip tight to his shaft and catch the subtle arch of his back. “And over.” Doing this only proves my point, because my whole body is trembling right now, wondering how he’ll retaliate. How far he’ll go to protect his morals.
I hate myself for putting him in this position, but every time I think of letting it go, leaving Father Damon out of this, I imagine Calvin smothering Mamie with a pillow, just before he dumps my body into a shallow grave.
His jaw is tight, body guarded, as if poised to crush me, and when he glances down at what I’m doing between us, I catch the slight dip of his brow—a plea trapped inside so much frustration, he must want to throttle me right now.
“And over again.” Lips set to his ear, I grip tighter as I whisper, “Fight me, if you’re so hell-bent on self-righteousness.”
Not a breath later, his body sets into motion, moving like a machine as he backs me into the wall. It only takes two seconds for him to hitch my skirt up to my waist and yank my panties down to mid-thigh. With a victorious smile, I watch his lip curl as though he’s disgusted with himself, as he loosens his belt and unfastens his slacks.
“You shouldn’t tempt me.” The anger in his voice is convincing enough, but the tremble of his body betrays him, screaming of excitement and yearning, and the hunger of a man who hasn’t eaten in a long time. The veins in his cock throb as he holds himself like a warning, a weapon designed to split a woman in two. That’s how thick he is, and to think all this time, he’s been hiding this impressive beast beneath vestments and virtue.
What an absolute shame.
Lip caught between my teeth, I hike my thigh up over his hip and rub my thumb over his weeping tip, ready to guide him inside of me.
“Touch yourself.” His raspy voice makes him sound like a man on the edge.
“I’d rather just get right to—”
He silences my explanation with a palm over my mouth, his shoulder flexing as he strokes himself against me. “No. You’re socontentto tease me? This is what you brought on yourself. You don’t get to call the shots.” He swaps his hand for his lips in a kiss that steals my breath and renders me momentarily weak. Pressure between my thighs tightens my muscles, and I let out a sharp breath through my nose, as he shoves two of my fingers, along with two of his own, inside me.
The moan that leaks from his mouth vibrates across mine as he guides our fingers in and out, pumping slow and steady. The delicious stretch over all four digits doesn’t even come close to what I imagine his cock might feel like inside of me. Wet sucking sounds echo through the room, an embarrassing confession of just how much I’m enjoying his punishment.
The tight clench of his jaw must mirror the malice burning inside of him, telling me I’ve pushed this holy man too far. He withdraws his fingers, eyes on me as he slips them into his mouth, sucking my arousal clean. “You even taste like sin. Imagine that.” Sinking to his knees, I watch him fist his cock, gaze riveted on where my fingers still work my pussy. He braces a hand on the wall, steadying himself, and bends forward to lick the slickness leaking down my thighs. “Move your hand,” he commands in a ragged voice, and I do as he says. “Hold your skirt up and open yourself to me.”
Following his commands, I lift my skirt with one hand and press two fingers across my folds, exposing my clit to him. Orders like these are nothing new, but thedesireto do as I’m told comes as an unexpected surprise. The thrill of watching this man, who’s denied himself pleasure, get off on what we’re doing is a welcomed change from all the times I’ve been forced to do the same for Calvin.
