“Truly, I say to you, tonight…” He whispered. “You shall be with me in paradise.”
Father Raphael moved over me, capturing a kiss, a breath, a whimper of overwhelmed hesitance. His strength rose over me, but I stilled beneath his hardened form, watching as a man of God and muscle commanded his body and mine.
His lips tickled, breathing prayers. My heart raced. Could he feel it?
Did he realize what his kiss tortured from me? What his hands trapped within his grasp?
I arched as his mouth searched lower, kissing my neck, my collarbone, lower and lower. The heat of his lips burned over my breast. I held my breath.
Was it temptation to let myself inhale and savor his scent?
Was it worse to arch my breasts to his mouth? How bad of a sin would it be to ask to feel his tongue curl over my nipple?
I didn’t have to ask. He fed his own temptations, his own demons which heated him from the inside and drove him to seek satisfaction from my body.
I welcomed him between my legs, groaning as the rough material of his slacks rubbed against a slickness far too hot and desperate for anything but the invasion of his soul.
He cupped my breast, striking upon my nipple with a nip of his teeth, grunt of his pleasure, and seal of his lips. With a free hand he aimed for his pants, drawing the zipper low. I wiggled. His tongue lashed over me, darts of pink cast against a rich darkness. Every moment of illicit attention sparked a deep pleasure.
The sensations tormented me. My soul bundled and knotted, desperately throbbing in my core and crazed for a freeing release. I groaned, arching, pressing my body to his.
Father Raphael understood. He soothed me with a caress of my cheek. His dark eyes narrowed, studying my reaction, my need.
His command teased and enthralled me.
“You will wait,” he said. “You will resist.”
“No…” My head fell as his lips trailed lower once more. “What else must I prove to you?”
“We will reach paradise together, my angel.”
I stiffened, but he pushed my thighs apart. I was exposed to him. Again. Completely. Shamelessly, though my shame was self-evident in the slickness of my slit.
The cool air brushed that sinful part of me. His eyebrow arched. Had he not expected to find me wet and wanting more of his attention, his words, his touch?
His control.
“This is our sin.” He breathed over me, a homily of truth and devious arousal. “This temptation, this moment, you were right. I dominated you with faith when I should have worshiped you in sin. You are my lost, beautiful angel…and I will guide you to Heaven.”
He spoke such sensual blasphemy. His head lowered, pushing my thighs further apart.
When his words silenced, his true prayer began.
He adored me, tasting me, offering his tongue to my petals as though I were the holy Host and he would have me melt with consecrated heat.
The shudders began at my toes, rippling through me as every lashed strike of his tongue blessed my folds. His mouth danced upon my slit, teasing the velvet and flicking across my swollen nub.
I jerked against the pleasure, realizing only what he did as I counted every whip against my sensitive secret.
I arched. Twenty swipes of his tongue, across the softness of my petals.
I groaned. Twenty-five deliberate and devout kisses upon my tightening core.
I sweated. Thirty agonizing suckles of my clit as he threaded me and used me and watched me thrash against his gifted pleasure.
I knew what he did. What he counted. Why he told me to wait.
I nearly wept, struggling against the pleasure as my muscles cramped and fingers twisted in the softness of his sheets.
He stopped at thirty-nine licks, a blasphemous and utterly sacrilegious number which wracked me in a forbidden ecstasy.
I edged too hard against the precipice of that peak, and he pulled away, tormenting me with the wickedness of his feast.
“Father…” My words, my body, my soul ached. “Please. Release me or let me go. I can’t do this anymore.”
“I won’t lose you, my angel. I can’t.”
He removed his trousers. His cock wrenched from the material, finally free to harden to its full glory. It throbbed, as intimidating as the rasping prayer he delivered over my quivering body.
“I will bind us together,” he whispered. “Trap us in depravity. But I’ll deliver you from this torment. I’ll take these sins as my own to shield you from everything but this forbidden pleasure.”
He spoke so solemnly. His words trapped me upon his bed, torn between my own reason and pleasure. My core ached. I needed him. More than salvation. More than absolution.
Father Raphael fisted his cock, pumping it in a deliberate and stoic movement. The thick shaft was too large to hide within his hand, and every motion left inches exposed.