“Disrespectful to try to lock me out when I’m generous enough to give you a head start.” The short puffs of his breath are cool against my heated skin, and I squirm underneath his watch.
“You’re being disrespectful. This is a sacred place. You didn’t even bless yourself when you came in,” I rasp. I’m reaching for any excuse to slow him down, even though my body is lighting up under his touch. I need some semblance of the reasonable version of him I know. I’m not even sure he exists in this room right now, but a girl can try.
“Oh.” He pulls back, his eyes searching mine, and then he holds my gaze so intently I fear I might melt under the weight of it. “We’re back to propriety now that it’s your turn?”
“Yes,” I answer him.
“As you wish.” He nods, the sneer of irritation thawing into what I could almost describe as amusement. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I feel like I might finally be free of his retribution.
He reaches over to the water stoup, dipping his index and middle finger inside to draw on the holy water, and predictably finds it empty after years of neglect. He frowns with disappointment.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. I suppose I’ll have to make do with what I have available.” His grip on my wrists tightens, holding me with one hand, and slipping under my skirt and between mythighs with the other. I’m drowning in the anticipation of his plans, and he groans against my throat when he finds me wet for him again. “Look how good you are to me. Giving me exactly what I need. A fucking angel if there ever was one.” He teases me, slipping just the tips of his fingers in and out, painstakingly slowly, before he pulls them free. He holds them up, studying them as they glisten in the low light before he uses them to wet his thumb.
He can’t be doing what I think he is.
He can’t.
He wouldn’t.
“How does it go again?” He looks at me in question before he brings his thumb to his forehead, making a small mark. “In my mind.” He brings his thumb up to his lips. “On my lips.” He smears his thumb over his lower lip and then uses his tongue to swipe up my wetness from the soft dent at the center. He drops his hand to his heart and repeats the gesture. “In my heart.”
He smirks as he watches my reaction; my lips parted, and my brows frozen in shock. Reaching out, he grabs my jaw and swipes the remnants over my lower lip before he leans in and sucks it into his mouth, kissing and nipping at the lush bit of flesh before he pulls away again.
“That better? Or you think we have more to make up for?” He drops my wrists from above my head but holds onto them, looking to me for permission.
“More,” I murmur, the creep of excitement and anxiety blending together to develop another wave of desire that pools low inside me.
“I think so too.”
He takes my wrists and turns me around, bringing us to the back of the church where ascending rows of half-melted candles sit in wait for the churchgoers who will never return. He kicks a prie-dieu forward from its place in front of the votive stands withhis boot and drags me down, making my knees hit the tufted kneeler.
“Hands here.” He manipulates my wrists gently to place both of my hands on the prayer rail. “Palms down.” I follow his instructions. “That’s my girl.” I hear him murmur as I’m eyeing the iron gate and wondering if I could untie the rope as fast as I’d tied it earlier. I don’t have much time to think, though, because he releases his hold on me and rounds the other side, climbing the small riser there.
The sound of his zipper lowering echoes in the quiet of the chapel. Bouncing off the walls and reverberating around us. The chapel has been deconsecrated, the crucifixes and the tabernacle removed, but it still feels wrong.
“Levi, please.” My eyes lift to meet his. “This is—we shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I know you’re not religious but…”
My protests are meaningless though. He palms himself under his boxer briefs and then frees his dick, hard and swollen, a bead of precum already swelling to its full potential at the tip.
“You’re wrong about that, sweetheart.” His knuckles drag down my jaw, and then his hand cups my chin. “I’m very fucking religious when it comes to you. Listening to your confessions. Worshipping this sinful little body back to life night after night. Forgiving your transgressions—like using me as your own personal fucking sex toy while I’m tied to a fence.” He lets out a low whistle. “That last one though. That might be a cardinal sin. A few of them, I think. So I’m going to need more than a simple apology.”
“I’ll say another rosary tonight.”
“No, sweetheart. That’s not enough this time. Not with your immortal soul on the line.”
He swipes the precum with his thumb and drags it over my forehead, and then down, pausing to swipe over my lips before he makes a final mark over my bare chest.
“You need to meditate on what you’ve done wrong. Dedicate yourself to it body and soul. What did the abbess call them?” He snaps his fingers, and his eyes light. “Devotionals. That’s what you need to practice. Thank fuck I’m here to help you.”
His palm cups my jaw, and he presses his thumb down on my lower lip, slipping his cock in between them while they’re parted.
“Give me those pretty blues,” he demands, and I do as I’m asked, letting my tongue swirl over his tip while he stares back into my eyes. “Now pray.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Levi
I runmy fingers through her hair and curl them around a fistful of it, anchoring myself as I start to fuck her pretty little mouth. I’m slow at first, gentle even, as she hums her apology around my cock. She’s so warm and wet, her tongue as eager to please as the rest of her.
