I almost come, but she stops moving just in time, and I can’t even be upset because her lips taste so fucking good. Moving my hands from her waist to her face, I deepen our kiss, owning her mouth like I’m absorbing her life force straight from her body.
She lets out a sweet, high-pitched moan, squeezing her hand as she starts pumping again, and I am undone.
“Cora, oh God—”
The feeling that takes my body is nothing less than euphoria. Locked in pleasure, I can hardly breathe as my heart pounds so loudly it rattles my bones. It’s like I can’t stop coming, and I don't take my mouth off of hers for a second.
Finally, when my ears can hear and my eyes can see again, I pull back to look down at the girl in my arms. She’s staring up at me with awe and wonder, but then she glances down. We both do.
And the sight mortifies me. I didn’t just come all over her hand, but there are white spurts of cum across her black habit and even some on her neck and chin.
Jesus, what have I done?
Chapter 6
Cora
* * *
I am never going back to the convent.
I couldn’t possibly now, not after what happened. This feeling of power in my hands, the connection between us, the hunger coursing through my veins—it all feels too good.
A smile stretches across my face as I gaze up at Father Roman. He is wearing a look of utter shock, as if he’s still reeling from the pleasure that shook his body like an earthquake.
“Cora, I’m...I’m so sorry.”
Too quickly, he pulls away, leaving me with a warm mess all over my hands and clothes. After tucking his softening dick in his pants, he rushes to grab the box of tissues from his desk and quickly cleans the mess. Before he can, I rub my fingers together, reveling in the feel of his warm seed against my skin.
I want more. I need it.
“It’s okay,” I reply carefully.
“I never should have—” he rambles. “This was a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
When he hears the confusion in my voice, his expression falls. “Oh no, Cora. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He dotes on me, cleaning me quickly, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off of him. I’ve always thought Father Roman was beautiful, in a regal, godlike sort of way, but after seeing the way his face contorts when he comes, I’m even more attracted to him. There is a stirring of need between my legs.
As he takes a tissue to my chin, I grab his hand and stare up into his eyes. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” He looks so troubled, and I just want to ease his discomfort.
“Yes, we did, Cora. I took vows. I made a promise to God.”
My heart sinks.
I swallow, forcing my face to convey compliance instead of the devastation I’m feeling.
“Of course.”
I can’t look him in the eye, but I can see him struggling too. Once my hands are dry and clean, he brushes his fingers along my shoulder. It feels like he’s comforting me, and I hate it. I hate that I feel like a sin now, like something that felt so good and that I loved so much is not accepted by God. It’s not fair.
His shoulders are tense as he plants his hands on the desk and hangs his head.
Walking over to him, I run a hand softly along his back.
“It was supposed to make you feel better.”
“It didn’t,” he bites back. Immediately, he softens. “I’m sorry, Cora. I don’t want you to worry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re...you’re perfect.”
With his vivid green eyes on me and those words on his lips, I feel a new flutter of warmth crawl up my spine. He thinks I’m perfect.
“It’s me. I’m the one to blame. Let me worry about this.”
“Worry about what?” I ask, leaning closer.
“About—” He seems pained as he tries to compose his thoughts. “It’s late, Cora. Probably best that we get to bed. We have another busy day tomorrow.”
My mouth feels dry, and there’s a subtle itch under my skin, as if I want to move or scream or cry. I feel myself clenching my thighs together to try and settle the strange feeling, but it barely helps. I’ve never felt this way before and I assume it’s just the chaos of the last thirty minutes.
I can still feel his hard cock in my hands, and I can still taste his perfect mouth on my lips. He’s overwhelmed my senses, but I feel so...unfulfilled. And I need something. I just don’t know what.
The ache doesn’t go away through my nightly prayers, and I can barely focus on the scriptures I’m supposed to be reading tonight.
What happened in his office was amazing, but now I feel awful. This might as well be the flu. The body aches are there. My throat hurts, my head pounds, and moisture leaks onto my panties every time I think about Father Roman’s cock in my hand.
I know what’s wrong with me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Even if I was allowed to relieve myself, I’m too stubborn—because that’s not what I want. Out of all of the times I’ve asked myself if this is truly the life I want, this is the first time I’ve actually doubted it. What if I feel like this all the time? I know what this ache is, and there’s really no other way to explain it—I’m horny. So what if I never truly get the release I’m craving? I hate that thought.
Lying in bed, I think about Father Roman during the service, remembering how his fingers flip the pages of his Bible, and I squirm in my bed. Even as I replay his homily and how he spoke of Mary and Joseph’s long and painful journey, I think sinful, wanton things about those fingers of his and what they would feel like. Closing my eyes, I imagine his hands on me. What would he do if he could touch me without abandon? Would he be rough or gentle? Would he strum my clit until I came or would he hook his long digits inside of me, hitting that perfect spot?
I bite my bottom lip, stopping myself from letting out a moan as I fantasize the most beautiful, dirty scenarios with the one man I can’t have.
Chapter 7
Father Roman
* * *
Lying in the dark room, I hear nothing but the ticking of the clock, and I can't stop thinking about Cora's hand around my cock and that forbidden encounter we hadin my office.
It was sacreligious, but it was also everything I think I've ever wanted—well, not everything.
I kissed her. I kissed my sweet Cora, and it wasn't just the heat of the moment. It was the lips I've watched speak a million words, lips I've watched in prayer and in laughter. Lips I've come to love.
I do love her.
I've known this much for a long time. How could I not? Years and years together, knowing everything we could possibly know about each other. We might as well be married already. And now we've crossed that line, and there is no going back.
Before we parted for the night, she looked back at me nervously then disappeared down the hallway to her sleeping quarters, and I could see so much turmoil on her face. She looked pained, confused and scared—all because of me. Because I'm a man who takes but has nothing to give.
I really can't give Cora what she wants. That's the bottom line. I might as well be the devil himself for what I'm putting her through—loving her without touching her.