Forbidden Fruit Vol 2

by Millstead, Kasey

  She nodded before her eyes scanned the space. She smiled when they landed on me before she pulled her coat on and ambled out of the old church.

  “I thought we discussed your language, Tressa.”

  “Right, sorry,” I mumbled and got to work setting up an activity for the after-school kids.

  “There’s no need for that today.” He stilled my hand with his own.

  “Why?”

  “First Monday of the month we don’t have after-school activities. Gives us a chance to regroup and plan for the coming month.”

  “Oh, you didn’t mention that. Should I go home, then?”

  “No, please don’t. I wanted to discuss something with you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I pulled away from him and went for my coat.

  “I insist, Tressa. There are some things that need to be out in the open.”

  “No, really, there’s nothing that needs to be said. I’m good.” I offered him my best fake smile.

  “Tressa, I told you that I see you—what you show and what you hide.” He stepped closer and pulled my chin between his thumb and index finger. I sucked in a long inhale as his scent wafted over me. Shivers erupted and my nipples ached. I clenched my fists at my sides and pulled away.

  “Fine.” I steeled my spine and turned.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the pew beside us.

  “I’m good to stand, thanks.” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall.

  “Always stubborn.” A grin tipped his lips.

  My eyes flared and I gritted my teeth. “Get on with it.”

  “I wanted to touch base. See how you’re liking the counseling, if it’s something that fulfills you.”

  “Oh.” That wasn't what I was expecting. “Yes, I haven’t had much time to do it, but I enjoy talking to the kids.” My stance softened as a small smile played on my lips.

  “I see that.” His melted chocolate eyes pooled with something I didn’t quite understand. “I was doing some digging after something you said last week.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I found you and your brother in the records. Baptism through first communion.”

  “Mm hmm?”

  “And then you seem to have disappeared. Was there a reason for that?”

  “We just stopped going to church.”

  “Yes, well, you said you’d always lived in the area, and your family was formerly quite devout,.”

  I clenched my fists at my sides again and narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Tressa.”

  I spun and stomped across the nave to head for the entrance.

  “Why did you come back, Tressa?” His accented voice echoed around the old cavernous space. I spun just as he crashed into me, his hands tightening around my arms as he pushed me back against the doors of the confessional.

  “Why did you come back?” he whispered again as his eyes bore into mine. “After everything that happened?” He leaned in, his lips grazing the skin of my neck, nose dusting along my earlobe.

  “It’s not your business,” I grunted as my chest heaved beneath his solid body.

  “I want you to tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “It's important.”

  “It’s not. And I’m not staying. I won’t be back.” I twisted in his arms and tried to push him away. He gripped my shoulders tighter until I stilled.

  His heavy body pressed to mine, my back against the intricately carved door of the small confessional. I sucked in his spicy scent and my eyes fluttered closed, fists still clenched at my sides in anger.

  “I want to know you.” His palms smoothed over my shoulders and across my neck. Fingers kneaded at my nape before tangling in my hair. Ducking his head, he took my lips against his own in a soft kiss.

  It was lingering, gentle, tentative. It had my heart racing and set my body on fire. My fingertips tingled and ached to touch him. I loosened my fists and brought my hands to his waist, fisting at the dark fabric of his shirt before pulling it from his waistband and sinking my fingernails into taut muscle.

  A primal groan escaped his throat before he twisted the latch on the door and we tumbled inside the small booth. My ass landed on the wooden bench and he hunched over, one hand supporting his body, hovering over mine, our lips never breaking contract.

  “Oh, bela Tressa. Furiosa Tressa,” he murmured. Sweet Jesus, he spoke his native language when he was turned on. I didn't even know what he was saying, but God help me, I didn't care.

  My blood melted to molten lava and surged through my system to land straight between my legs.

  I whimpered and wrapped my thighs around his waist, trying to relieve the growing pressure that’d started low in my belly and blossomed out.

  “Douçura linda com raiva. Tressa. Tantos segredos.” His hand fisted tighter in my hair as he thrust his tongue into my mouth with a renewed hunger.

  He bruised my lips with his own, worked his way up and down my neck, into my hairline, and followed my earlobe before running across my collarbone.

  He was consuming me, tasting my skin, licking and nibbling with each pass. I moaned and thrust my core against his waist, my eyes shut tightly and my lips parted and panting.

  “What are you doing to me?” His words fell out in a heavy accent. When he was aroused, even in English, his words came out more heavily accented. This man would be my undoing. Head to toe, my body craved him.

  “Me?” I panted as my body stilled and I tried to get my breathing under control. He ducked his head into my neck, his fingertips still kneading at the nape and twisting in my hair.

  “Every promise I’ve made seems to fall away when you’re in the room.” His deep voice echoed in the confined space.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. If I was supposed to say anything else. Maybe I was meant to lie here prone, underneath him, to let him take me silently and then walk away.

  “It’s not your fault, bela moça.” He chuckled. “You’re always apologizing. You should break yourself of that habit.”

  “What does that mean?” I stared up at him, the man that'd just all but dry humped me in a confessional.

  “What?”

  “Bela moça.” I repeated to him as best as I could remember.

  “Hmm . . . it means beautiful girl.” His thumb whispered along my cheekbone.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as my mind swirled with the implications of that kiss.

  I had to go. Had to get out. Needed to think clearly.

  “I should go,” I whispered, my one arm still wrapped around his neck.

  “Yes,” he mumbled before pulling away.

  I felt bereft.

  He helped me off the bench like a gentleman, unlike the caveman who’d just pushed his way in here, and I stepped out of the confessional. I looked around, paranoid in a brief moment that someone had come in while we were tangled up together.

  The sanctuary was as empty as we’d left it.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked, as if his gentlemanly manners had just returned to him in the bright light of day.

  “Really?” I tipped my head at him, a smirk falling across my lips.

  A bashful grin spread across his face as he ducked his head and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

  “No need for etiquette. I really should go.” I buttoned my jacket and tossed my bag over my arm.

  “Okay.”

  “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, Father.”

  “Please, Tressa, call me Rafe, as my friends do.”

  “I'm not sure that's such a good idea.” I ran my thumb along his stubbled jaw.

  I committed the feel of it to memory, hoping it would be enough, because this could not happen again.

  It wasn't long before I realized one taste would never be enough as I found myself aching to trail my tongue along the sharp line of his jaw as he worked himself in and out of my body.


  One taste of him was nowhere near enough.

  Chapter Five

  Butterflies took up residence in my belly as I stepped into the nave the next day.

  I had considered not coming back; I’d said the words aloud the day before, but I sat on it all night. I tossed and turned and weighed my options. The truth was, I loved what he could offer. Counseling troubled teens was my calling, what I’d always wanted to do, and this could provide invaluable experience.

  And as for his question, as for why I’d come back after all those years . . .

  I couldn’t answer that. All I knew was the attack had left me empty, a cavern echoing inside my heart leaving me numb.

  So I’d gone back to the place that had once given me comfort, until that'd been taken away from me too. But he was gone, and I was left to deal with the pieces.

  I needed to take solace where I could.

  And the solace I was taking was within the heavy doors of that church, under the eyes of God, with a handsome-as-sin Brazilian priest who had me aching in more ways than one.

  After a whirlwind of kids at play, I was straightening blocks when Rafael stepped into the room. “Have dinner with me, Tressa.”

  I spun and took him in; his eyes flashed with intensity, longing.

  Oh, Jesus, this was it. This was that moment. My future hung in the balance, the doing or not doing. It was all lying right here before me. His decision shone bright and clear in his eyes.

  What was mine?

  “Yes.” I nodded. The hint of a smile pulled at his lips as he looped my coat in his arm and gestured me out the door.

  We settled in the kitchen of the rectory.

  He put together a quick meal of spaghetti and garlic bread.

  “Italian?”

  “You expected a Brazilian feast?” His beautiful eyes sparkled as he dished steaming pasta onto plates.

  “Maybe.” Tingles erupted in my belly as his eyes danced with amusement.

  “I'm no cook. There's a reason Mrs. Walsh brings me soup.” His deep chuckle filled the kitchen. “And I would hardly call store-bought spaghetti sauce Italian.” He winked as he set a plate in front of me. His easy, flirty demeanor nearly took my breath away.

  My heart leapt into my throat as I tore my gaze from his and picked up a fork.

  “You can talk to me, Tressa.” His eyes held mine a few moments later, when he'd settled across from me. “About anything.”

  I sat silently, picking at chunks of hearty tomato on my plate.

  “About what happened . . . before. Or recently. What brought you home, why your grades slipped.”

  “It's not really worth talking about.”

  “I suspect it might have been, if the result has you here, in my church, without a scholarship.”

  I frowned as I twisted the spaghetti on my fork, thoughts of that night rambling around in my head. “Things happen, life deals us a hand and we have to take what we're given. It was my fault.”

  “So much blame for someone so young.” He crossed the space and knelt in front of me to stroke a soft lock of hair over my shoulder. “I've been told I'm an excellent listener.” He smiled a charming, lopsided smile. “Opening up can help relieve your burdens.”

  “Hmm...I have heard that about you,” I teased, recalling our previous conversations about the importance of listening.

  “My reputation's preceded me then?”

  “Something like that.” I smiled, my eyes locked with his, lost in their caring brown depths.

  “I mean it, Tressa. You can talk to me.”

  I nodded as I searched his face. So effusive, giving, he was a good man. “There was an…incident. But it's in the past. I'm trying to keep it there.”

  “Fair enough,” he murmured as his palms travelled up my forearms, lighting every nerve-ending on fire. When his hands arrived at my shoulders his thumbs dusted along my collarbone. He touched me so sensually. Just the look in his eyes was a turn-on. “I'm so sorry, doce Tressa,” he murmured and pulled me into a hug.

  I clenched at the soft fabric of his dark shirt and inhaled his spicy scent. His large hands traveled to the nape of my neck and kneaded at the taut flesh. “You were right; all those days ago when you said maybe we take comfort where we can get it. Do what feels right. Seek solace where you can,” he murmured.

  My heart thudded in my chest. I squirmed in my chair and worked my jaw back and forth. I knew what he was thinking; I was thinking it too.

  His lips. On me. Everywhere.

  I rested my hands around his neck, wove my fingertips into his short hair, and leaned in, placing a soft slow kiss against his full lips. The lips I’d dreamt of. That had called to me from the instant I’d laid eyes on them.

  A low groan escaped his throat before his hands clenched at my hips, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

  My kiss became feverish as I pressed harder, nipping at the full bottom lip before he thrust his tongue into my mouth and plundered. It tongue tangled with my own, our heads twisting to accommodate the angle before he wrapped me in his arms and stood.

  My legs locked around his waist and he carried me into the living room. The heat of our bodies radiated off each other as he pressed me down into the couch. My skin prickled with awareness.

  I wanted him. More than I’d ever wanted anything.

  I pulled at the fabric of his shirt to bring him tighter to me, thrust my hips into his rock hard erection, which was sandwiched between us. I arched and dug, seeking friction to relieve the pressure.

  He mumbled in Portuguese, words that made no sense to me other than they were sexy as fuck falling from his lips.

  My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before I tugged the hem out of his waistband. He grunted and leaned up, his thick fingers working the snow-white collar from around his neck as he licked his lips, his eyes searching my face, lips, hair, down to my chest.

  He tossed the collar behind my head on the end table before I leaned up to help him out of his shirt.

  His fingers worked the button on his trousers and the zipper pulled down quickly before he launched himself at me. His hands ran up my torso, under my shirt, which he lifted straight over my head.

  I arched and moaned when his hooded eyes grew hazy as he took in my body. His hands groped at the flesh above my waist before kneading at my breasts, which were covered by a black bra with white, lacy trim.

  A bra, in all honesty, I’d worn for a moment just like this. For him. I'd thought of his face when I'd slipped it on, the black and white a reminder of his daily uniform.

  He fisted and pressed my breasts together, plumping the flesh before flicking his tongue out along the lacy edge and running along the sensitive skin.

  I whimpered and held his head to my body before he pulled one cup down and pulled and plucked at my nipple. I yelped when his lips attached around it and he suckled. Hard.

  “God, I could come right now,” I moaned as he worked his erection between my legs.

  “No, no, no, sweet Tressa. Patience is a virtue and makes the reward that much sweeter.” He emphasized the last few words with a delicious thrust. I moaned as he pulled my nipple between his teeth and fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans.

  He leaned back and peeled them down my legs slowly. His gaze feasted on my body before he ran one finger along the waistband of my matching black and white panties. He snapped the fabric and a devilish smile quirked his lips.

  I watched him, riveted. My eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, begging him to take me, in every way there was to be taken.

  Traced a fingertip along the panty line of my underwear, he groaned when he reached the crotch, already damp with my arousal. He moved the fabric aside slowly, dragging it across sensitive flesh. The air whooshed from my lungs when cool air kissed the overheated nerves. His grin grew before he leaned down and blew on my hot pussy.

  I moaned and fisted my hands in my hair before he trailed his thumb through my soaking wet lips. I groaned as
he swirled his thumb along my clit while he blew on the hot flesh.

  I was so fucking worked up, so aroused, so wet, I was positive I could come from the fiery look in his eyes.

  “Jesus, God, please,” I whimpered and I heard a deep chuckle from between my legs.

  “You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain, Tressa.”

  “Please, please, please.” The plea tumbled from my lips.

  “Please what, beautiful girl?” He flicked his tongue along my aching clit.

  “You are driving me insane. I need you.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “Mmm, everywhere?”

  “Yes,” I hollered just as he clamped his lips around my clit, flicked his tongue in hard, slow circles before dragging his teeth along the sensitive nerves. He thrust his thumb past my entrance and worked the nerves just at my opening before I came on a scream around him. He continued to suck and pull as my legs turned to jelly and quick breaths pounded through my body.

  “Mmm . . .” He pulled away and smirked, wiping the arousal shining on his full bottom lip and sucking it off the thumb that’d just been buried inside me.

  “Doce como o néctar,” he murmured. “You taste as sweet as nectar.” He gazed down at me before pulling his rigid length from his pants.

  My eyes burned with desire as he stroked up his hard length, flicking one thumb over the head and collecting the small bead of pre-cum collected there.

  “Let me have you.” He bent to murmur in my ear, his straining erection nestled between my wet folds and dragging and thrusting to tease the oversensitive nerve endings.

  I nodded my head as I fisted my hands in his short hair.

  “Condom, there's a condom in my bag.” I groped blindly on the floor for my purse. He leaned over me, his hard chest pressed to mine, my nipples aching as they brushed across the fine dusting of hair covering his solid pecs.

  He pulled back and straightened over me, a cocky grin on his face, as he tore the condom wrapper and then eased the latex down his cock.

  He was beautiful.

  Thick, hard, so big, and completely beautiful.

  “Say it. Tell me you want me inside you, sweet Tressa,” he growled as he hovered over me, his dick fisted in one hand as he drew the tip around my clit in slow, delicious circles.