Well, almost all of what I’ve waited for.
“I missed you,” I say to her.
“You missed my body,” she says. But she doesn’t sound upset. She’s smiling.
“Mm, yeah. You’re half right there,” I reply, kissing her again. “Where do you want to do this?”
“Do what, Brother Williams?” she flits her eyelashes at me.
I squeeze her ass. “Fuck, it’s sexy when you say that.”
I look up at the chapel. “How about here?”
“It’s too cold here,” she says.
“Yeah, and we’ll freeze if we walk all the way to the stadium. It must be in the single digits out here right now.” I rap on the brick wall of the chapel. “I meant inside here.”
She gasps. “We can’t do that. Not in there.”
I sweep her off of her feet and she yelps. “Quiet, or someone’ll catch us.”
“Saint! We cannot have sex in the chapel!”
But I carry her into the darkened sanctuary, feeling my way down the aisle. “We’re not having sex in the sanctuary,” I assure her. I mean, even I have boundaries. Sometimes.
“Don’t say s-e-x in here,” she whispers harshly. “It’s not the right place for that.”
“So you keep telling me,” I retort.
I walk past the pulpit into the door behind, feeling my way for the handle. I walk down the narrow corridor until I find the storage room. I push open the door and set Esther down.
She reaches for the lights but I stop her. “Hang on a second,” I say to her quietly.
I fumble for the latch of the cedar cabinet and pull out a candle and a brass holder. I reach into the top drawer until my fingers close around a paper matchbook. I feel the rough sandpaper side and know I’ve got what I was looking for. The scrape of the match gives me a jolt of adrenaline. The flame burns at the end of my fingertips and I light the candle swiftly. The room glows and I look over at Esther.
She’s already unbuttoned her sweater.
“So much for you not wanting to-“
She rushes over to me and pushes me against the wall, smashing her lips into mine. “I missed you,” she hisses, undoing my belt buckle as she kisses me.
“Apparently you-“
She puts her finger over my lips. “No talking.”
I’m not going to complain about that. She unhooks her bra and lets it fall softly to the floor. She pulls my pants down along with my boxers and scrapes her fingernails lightly across my completely hardened shaft. I shiver.
She looks up at me with a smile in her eyes, and licks the tip of my cock. I nearly collapse.
“Esther,” I moan.
“I said no talking.”
She wraps her thick lips around me and takes me fully into her mouth. It’s all I can do to stand upright against the wall. I’m having a hard time believing this is her first time sucking cock because she’s so good at this.
But I know it is.
***
I thrust and pulse and pull out of Esther, finally feeling sweet release catapult my body into the stratosphere. I roll over onto my back.
“This is really dirty,” I say to her. “Like, really fuck-“
Esther punches me. “Don’t say that word in here. It’s bad enough that we just had…you know.” She looks at me pointedly and reaches across my body for her bra.
I laugh. “You can’t say the word sex but you just had sex. In a chapel.”
“A chapel storage room, yes,” she replies pointedly. “I feel like there’s a slight difference.”
I shrug. “Like I said, God doesn’t care. Trust me on that.”
I watch Esther’s beautiful, pale, curves as she restores her demure chapel clothes to her body.
She notices me watching her. “What is it?” she asks.
“I want to go out with you.”
She gapes at me, leaving her cardigan halfway unbuttoned. Her cleavage is on full display and I’m distracted for a moment. “What?”
“You heard me.” I push myself up onto my elbows. I’m still naked and Esther keeps glancing down at my cock.
“Put that away,” Esther says, bundling up my clothes and dropping them on my crotch. “I can’t think with that thing out.”
“You can’t think with that thing in either,” I retort.
She blushes. “I can’t go out with you.”
“And why not?”
“Because going out isn’t going out, here. It’s courting. And courting means you have the intention to marry, and, well.” She pauses awkwardly. “That’s not on the table.”
I feel a pang of hurt at these words that surprises me more than I can express. “Yeah, well, I never want to get married anyway.” It’s my turn to get dressed. “I mean, I’m graduating. Nobody’s going to put a gun to our head to make us get married just because we were courting each other.”
She sighs and pulls her hair back into her usual low ponytail. “I don’t know, Saint,” she says.
“You just want to keep having dirty sex with me instead?”
She looks at her fingers. “I mean, the Dean would have to call my parents and get permission. I really don’t want to deal with that.”
I finish getting dressed and pull her hands toward me. “I want to be able to be seen in public with you. I don’t only want to sneak around with you.”
“Yeah, but courting would cut into our sneaking around time,” she points out.
I put my hands on either side of her head and tilt it up to look at me. “I want people to know you’re mine.” We stare at each other a long time.
She pulls away from me and laughs. “If you’re worried about the possibility of a long line of men wanting to date me, I assure you: there’s no one else. Like, I think you’re the first guy to even look at me.”
I grab her hands again. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, Delilah.” I think back to when Scott pulled her onto the dance floor at the cotillion. I’d wanted to pummel him into a pulp. “There are other guys. And I want to be able to say that you’re mine.”
“Possessive much?” she retorts. She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I don’t know why that came out.”
“I always like when you actually speak your mind for once,” I say to her.
“Let me think about it,” Esther says.
I kiss her again. “Don’t take too long.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ESTHER
“We’re going to miss chapel, Esther!” Romy yells from the bedroom. “If I’m late to morning service one more time I think the Dean is going to expel me.”
“Go without me,” I groan, my head still in the toilet. The weak February sun trickles in from the small, bathroom window and falls onto the floor. I pull back and flush away the contents of my meager breakfast. I’ve had no appetite for weeks.
“Fine,” Romy sighs. “Do you want me to bring you crackers from the dining hall again?”
“Please,” I call back. The exertion of yelling makes me wretch again.
“Wipe down the bathroom door handles, too,” she says. “Half the school has this stomach virus and I’ll be damned if I’m going to get it. I hate throwing up.”
“Ugh,” is the only response I can give her back. I’ve been throwing up for two days straight. I finally manage to crawl across the dorm room floor and into my bed to go back to sleep. I set my alarm for two hours from now so I can make it to my women’s studies class.
I’m only three minutes late and still groggy from my mid-morning nap, but I make it.
“Nice of you to stop by, Sister Avonlea,” Professor Jenkins says to me with a veil of sarcasm.
“I apologize, Professor,” I reply.
Romy flashes me a “sucks for you” sympathy grimace that I return.
“Alright, open up your Bibles. We’re starting at the beginning. Genesis. Eve.” She scribbles temptation across the board. “Who can tell me the basics of the story?”
My stomach is still gnawing at me,
the fluorescent lights overhead making my eyes feel funny. But my hand goes up into the air.
I start speaking before Professor Jenkins even gives me the go ahead. “God forbade Adam to eat from the tree of knowledge. Eve had the gumption to actually ask questions, and because of that curious drive, she was banished along with Adam from paradise.”
“Interesting perspective, Sister AVONLEA,” Professor Jenkins says stiffly. “Although it’s a generous interpretation of Sister Eve, who was clearly not fit for the glory of the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“Why did God make us curious and then punish us for it?” I throw back at her. The words are in the air and for a second I’m not even sure if I’m the one who said them. I look around and Romy’s jaw is practically on the floor.
Yeah, it was me who said it.
Oh no.
Professor Jenkins clears her throat. “Eve was under clear instruction to not eat the fruit. She disobeyed Heavenly Father. Now all women pay the price of that sin in the form of pain during childbirth.”
My mouth is moving without my consent. “I’m supposed to believe that childbirth is something women have to suffer? Where is the compassion? Where is the awe of the glory of life? What about my Sisters studying midwifery? So many of them have been in these classes as women’s studies students and gone on to practice midwifery after they got their degrees. Do you tell them that their life’s work is helping women suffer for Eve’s sin? Or do you tell them it’s a form of glory, to assist in a practice that literally gives life?”
The room is spinning now and I put my head into my hands. I’m sweating and trying to hold back vomit. It doesn’t work. I grab my bag and sprint out of the classroom.
“Sister Avonlea!” Professor Jenkins calls after me. “Come back here!”
But I’m gone, tears of rage and discomfort spilling from my eyes. I can’t stay here and listen to this. It’s crap.
I think of everything my father taught me. Every single misogynist line he had me parrot back to him, and I feel the same perverse pleasure I felt while searching blow job tips course through my body. He would have slapped my knuckles raw with a ruler if he had heard what I just said in that classroom.
I wish he had been there. I wish he’d heard everything. Because the story I’ve been taught my whole entire life about Eve’s fall from Eden?
It’s bullshit.
I don’t even feel guilty as I think the word, not even when I’m heaving mightily into the toilet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SAINT
March blows onto the calendar faster than I realize. It’s my last semester of college, and I’ve nearly climbed the mountaintop. I can hardly believe it.
If it weren’t for the stress I’m feeling from the upcoming draft, I’d probably be spending most of my days with Esther doing non-academic work.
I have to pass my classes, but having her as my study partner isn’t working the way I told myself it would. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“And if you end up writing your essay on Othello, you can actually be done with this class,” Esther explains. We’re tucked into a cozy corner of the library. The floor-to-ceiling, three-story-tall stained glass window panes barely keep out the howl of the wind. Rain is driving horizontally into the side of the building.
We’re across from each other at a chaste distance just in case someone wanders back here, which has already happened twice. The librarian’s student assistant is a high-strung junior I recognize from the honor committee. I’m sure she’d love nothing more than to bust both of us in what would be the honor hearing of the century for this campus.
But what the assistant can’t see is my hand reaching under the table for Esther’s thigh. Esther keeps squirming but I don’t care. My brain is a million miles away from books and school. I just want to be with her and play football. That’s all I want.
“Focus,” Esther says, but it’s without any real commitment. “I just told you that this class only requires you to write one paper. If you do it now, you don’t even have to go to lectures. It’s not part of the grade. Read the play. Write the paper. And you’re done.” Esther goes a little green and reaches into her backpack. She pulls out a small, white, carboard box and shakes out a wax-paper-covered piece of candy. She unwraps it and pops it into her mouth.
“No food in the library,” I say to her with a grin. I slip my hand further up her skirt. “It’s against the rules.”
Esther is blushing and I can tell she wants to go between the stacks and fuck the life out of me. “It’s either I eat candy or I barf all over your book.”
I squint at her. “You’ve been sick for like two weeks now. Are you sure it’s a stomach bug?”
She nods. “Of course it is. The rest of campus seems to have gotten it, except for you somehow.” She flips over the next syllabus and skims it.
“That’s because I’m secretly not human. I’m Superman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, Superman. You’re behind in your next class. I don’t think Clark Kent can graduate in your place.”
I remove my hand from between her legs and yawn. “I’m bored. Let’s go do something.”
Esther glances out the windows. “And what would that look like? Go swimming across campus?”
I laugh quietly but the library assistant catches my eye and gives me a stern look. “I’m itching to just do something. Don’t you want to?”
Esther sighs and folds up the stack of syllabi, handing them back to me. “Since you’re obviously not going to study, why not?”
I glance at the assistant. She’s buried in the computer again. I have an idea. “I’m going to walk upstairs to the third floor. Meet me by the emergency exit up there. But take your time and make sure the assistant sees you sitting here for about five minutes before you get up to leave, alright? And take the front staircase by the entrance to the library. It’ll look like you’re leaving.”
I stand up with my backpack and walk over to the assistant. I flash her my patented Saint Williams smile. She scowls.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for a Tolstoy book. Can you help me with that?”
She doesn’t even look it up. “Third floor. Sixth row. Top shelf.”
“Thank you so, so much. I really appreciate it.” I smile at her again but she’s immovable. Whatever. I just needed a reason to go up to the third floor without suspicion. “Oh, and I saw someone in the technology section re-shelving books without really looking.”
She groans and takes off her glasses, tucking them into the top of her sweater. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” I rap my knuckles on the countertop twice and head for the staircase. Now I’ve put the assistant close to Esther, right where I want her.
I run up the stairs and wait.
Esther appears almost ten minutes later, and I’m nearly falling asleep standing up. The dusty shelves are empty of any humans. “There you are,” I say.
“I needed to make it look extra believable,” she replies.
I kiss her on the lips. “Did Miss Priss see you leaving?”
Esther shakes her head. “She saw me get up from the table and I assume it will just look like I was headed for the entrance.”
I kiss her again. “Perfect.”
“What can I say? I take instruction well,” she replies with a sexy grin.
I squeeze her hips and pull her closer to me. “I know that’s true.”
We make out for several minutes before Esther pulls away. “We’re not having sex up here, are we?”
I take her by the hand and push open the emergency exit. No alarm sounds as I open it. Just like I knew it wouldn’t.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Esther whispers to me. “I thought for sure the alarm was going to go off!”
I laugh and turn the lights on. The staircase here is only accessible through this door. The lamplight fills the mahogany-paneled staircase.
“How do you know about this?” Esther a
sks me as we walk up the narrow staircase.
“My girlfriend freshman year worked in the library. She saw the Dean come in here once.”
“What’s up here?” Esther asks as we climb.
“You’ll see.” I open the glass-filled wooden door. “After you.”
Esther steps inside. It’s cacophonous in here because of the rainstorm.
“This used to be a greenhouse,” I explain to her loudly as she looks in awe at the fogged-up glass room. The walls and ceiling are an intricate grid of metal and glass panes.
“When I saw this place from the ground, I thought it was just a decorative feature,” Esther says incredulously.
“I think only five people on campus know about it,” I explain. I pull her close to me. “I thought we could get some privacy up here for a few minutes.”
Esther smiles at me, relaxing as I unbutton her sweater. “Only a few minutes? You’ve been lasting longer than that these days.”
“Very funny,” I reply, burying myself in her tits while she groans. “The best part of this place?”
“What?”
“You can scream as loud as you want to and nobody will hear us above the rain.”
“Is that a challenge?”
It is a challenge. And she rises to the occasion.
***
“…thinking that we need to get you an agent. It’s absurd that you don’t have one yet.” My dad is droning on through the phone. I can hardly stand the sound of his voice. Rain, wind, and hail have been drowning the campus over the last week. The sound of the wind howling through the gaps in my dorm window has had me on edge for days.
But I’d gladly take the howling wind for another six months if it meant not talking to my father.
“Yeah, I’m considering a few different guys right now,” I reply, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I look over at Rick, who’s zoned out to a Star Wars marathon on television. I wave at him. Help me, I mouth. He just laughs and goes back to watching television.
“You’ve been considering agents without me?” My dad is furious; just like I knew he’d be. This is why I put off talking to him for this long. I know he wants a piece of my signing bonus. I’m determined to not give it to him.
Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 12
