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My breathing is ragged, and my chest heaves with desire. He stalls when he reaches the elastic of my panties. The ache that starts low in my stomach feels heavy, needy. My clit throbs. I reach for his hand, teasing it down my silky underwear.
“Don’t,” he hisses, but the need in his tone is enough.
Ignoring him, I move his hand with mine until his fingers find my slick heat. My pussy pulses for him. “Just touch me,” I moan when he finally delves a digit into my core. “This is my confession, Father.” I moan as my head drops back. His lips suckle on my heated flesh like I’m his salvation, but I know I’ll be his downfall.
“This is my sin, little lamb,” he growls. Thick digits pump in and out of my body as it accepts him. His movements are gentle. Slow and steady. Taunting and teasing. I’m so close. My body hums, thrums with need. His fingers fuck me. My hips roll against him.
“Yes, Father. Let me repent. Please?” I plead. My voice is hoarse, laced with desire. I shouldn’t want this, but I do. Father Reid, the man who’s still wearing the white collar around his neck, is about to make me come on his fingers. In his office. In the church.
“Come, Sage. Let your body go. Give me your confession. Let me relieve you of your sin.” That’s when it hits. My body convulses, tightening around his fingers. “That’s it, sweet lamb, come for me. Worship the feeling,” he murmurs so seductively it caresses every inch of my body. I cry out as it hits me, but his free hand quickly covers my mouth, stifling the sound.
I think he’s going to pull out, but he doesn’t relent; instead, he continues to finger-fuck me. As I ride the wave of my orgasm, I realize this has gone where it shouldn’t.
This is far from a fantasy.
This is real.
It’s bad.
It’s dirty and taboo.
But I want it.
Every filthy moment.
Reid
The sunlight brings with it memories of yesterday. And it brings images of the girl, the woman I defiled. As much as I wanted it, I should’ve refrained. Sage’s lips begged, and I delivered. Instead of telling her to pray, I slid my hand down the front of her jeans and dipped my fingers into the warmest, wettest pussy I’d ever felt.
For years, I was a normal man. I’d been with countless women. I should now be able to resist the temptation. What we did can’t be undone, but it also can’t happen again. Guilt settles in my gut like a lead weight. As much as I wanted her, as quickly as I sank my fingers into her tight heat, I knew it was wrong. I could lose everything I’ve worked for. And for what? A girl who’ll probably be on to the next guy tomorrow if he showed her any interest.
Even as the thought comes to mind, I know it’s a lie. She’s not that type of girl. Her innocence was evident when I touched her. The way her body shuddered. She molded against me like she was made to be in my arms. If anyone finds out what we’ve done, I’ll be thrown out on my ass. Deservedly so.
With a gruff sigh, I get up and decide to start the day. As I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower, I watch the spray hit the tiles. Even if it was holy water raining down on me, I know it will never absolve me from the sin I’ve committed.
I need to get rid of the images in my head, especially the picture of her face as she exploded for me. The sweet moans that fell from her lips were too much to block out. Even now, they play like a hymn on repeat in my mind. Last night, I came all over my stomach recalling them, after spending the day with her scent on my fingers and remembering how sweet she tasted.
As soon as I step under the cascade of warm water, I find myself rock hard. Once again in need of release. Each time I pray, my mind falters. Every time I recall my duty, I find my body needing something else. Granted, I’m a hot-blooded man, but surely, I have more strength than this? I shouldn’t allow myself to succumb to these urges. Feeling the ache and need for the feel of skin on skin. The heat of a woman’s body around mine.
Shaking my head, I try to recall why I joined the church in the first place. To make a difference. For me to change the mistakes of my past. But not even two years into the seminary, and I’ve already failed.
My father was right—I’m a disgrace in so many ways. Just when I think I’m on the right path, my failures catch up to me, knocking me to the ground. My addiction to drugs was one of those. When I was in college, I fell in with the wrong crowd. One hit and I was an addict. It was a slippery slope. When I finally hit rock-bottom at the age of twenty, my parents paid for rehab, and I found purpose while sitting alone in the room at night. I did something I never thought I’d do. I prayed.
