Cardinal Sinner (Divine Domination Book 2)

by Megan Michaels

  He shut the plug off. The whisper of cloth drew her attention from her sex to find him stripping every piece of clothing off. His cock bobbed, jutting straight out from him, and she licked her lips, her mouth drooling. His muscled chest and arms begged to be licked and bitten. She adored this man’s chiseled body. Petr’s body was just as gorgeous, if not more so, as those made by Michelangelo.

  “Should I spin and model for you, malý drak? You’re devouring me with your eyes and I swear I’m feeling a bit self-conscious. Am I safe?” He snickered at her before turning slowly, flexing his arms and legs as the bodybuilding models do. Stretching her arm out, she swiped a finger up his ass, surprising him. He tilted his head, wagging a finger at her. “Not yet, girl. I’m enjoying torturing you. Just a bit longer.

  Sitting on a barstool opposite her, he shook his head laughing, picking up her Kindle and reading for a bit. “It’s a wonder you women can function on a daily basis reading this garbage. Why do you read it?”

  “It’s not garbage! It’s romance…it’s…true love. Love that surpasses all understanding and everything…it’s…a need and desire to be with someone in spite of and above all else.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s what every woman desires.”

  “Hey.” He stroked her face, tilting her chin up. “Why the tears? Are you okay?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing. The end was sad, but the happily ever after and telling you about it brought the emotions back. That’s all.”

  How could she explain to him that women want to be sought after, want the man to come after them, telling them that they can’t survive without their woman?

  Women want to be captivating, to be the center of attention. His eyes on her only, unable to look away because she has him spellbound, enamored, and enslaved to her for all time.

  Do men even understand that feeling?

  She wanted to be that. Wanted him to see her that way. But she knew he couldn’t, not when he was enslaved and enamored with the Church. Not her.

  Can a man have two loves? Can he love a woman and love the Church?

  She said it again smiling weakly at him. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh yeah.” The buzz began again; the toy in her ass coming to life.

  “Walk. Bend over the bed.” He stood waiting for her to lead the way out of the room.

  Is he fucking nuts?

  “You’ll be spanked all the way to the room in…three…two…”

  “Oh! Oh God!” She walked on her tiptoes at first, thinking she could clench around the plug, dulling the vibrations, but quickly decided that made it worse. She then walked with her legs bowed, hoping to keep her sphincter loose. But it felt like it may fall out, and she swore the pulsing increased with no resistance.

  Her clit throbbed incessantly, and she fought the urge to squeeze and pinch the pebbled peak.

  Of course, it didn’t help to hear his deep, rolling laugh behind her, obviously reveling in her despairing predicament. She giggled knowing she’d get him back later. She’d find some evil, maniacal way of getting even.

  “I don’t like the sound of that malevolent laugh.”

  Once near the bed, she pitched herself onto the edge of the mattress. By now, her hips were thrusting and grinding with the insistent roar of the plug. A sharp slap to her left buttock had her stilling.

  “Are you needy, girl?” His finger felt cool sliding through the puffy lips of her sex, skating along her juices, gathering them to circle her needy clit. He didn’t touch it—thank God—his instinct right that she’d fly into a screaming release with just a flick.

  “Yes!”

  Cupping her breasts, he squeezed the globes harshly, her nipples grazing along the soft cotton of her bedspread, the ache sending signals to her sex.

  His hot shaft rasped along the divide of her backside, bumping cruelly against the flange of her plug, his hips slamming into her, the motion rocking her forward on the bed, her clit bumping along the rigid hard seam of the mattress. “Fuck!

  “In time, baby. In time.”

  The whir of the vibrator in her dark channel ramped up, her insides quaking with the vibrations. She stiffened her thighs, growling into the bed, her frustration level peaking.

  Slipping a hand to her pussy, he tapped the exposed bundle of nerves. She saw stars behind her eyes and was on the brink of tumbling into a blessed orgasm, only to have his hand ripped away. Instead, the heavy hand crashed harshly onto her buttocks, jarring her from ecstasy and plummeting into pain. And although she shouted at the injustice, her pussy gushed with sensory overload.

  Gripping her plug, he tugged on it, tossing it to the bed. The snapping of the plastic lid on the lube signaled that he was coating his cock. He planned on fucking her ass, and she couldn’t hold still or stop the clenching in anticipation.

  Lining up his hot, rigid member, the tip nudging the dark whorl, she pushed back, wanting and welcoming him into her.

  “Look at my good girl opening up nice and wide.”

  He shoved his girth into her, the burning stretch not painful but warming the core of her, her ass and pussy throbbing with need. Inch-by-inch, he thrust himself into her until he was fully seated, his balls slapping gently against her dripping sex, his sac sticky with her juices.

  Stilling, he let her body adjust to the fullness of him, stretching to accommodate him. He pinched and pulled on her dangling nipples, elongating them with his attention.

  Swiveling her hips, she pushed back, willing herself to open wider for him, swearing she wanted him as deep as possible, grunting and panting with the overwhelming need to come.

  “Rub your pussy, girl. I won’t be lasting long.”

  Vigorously, she stroked herself, the sensitive, bare vulva chafing and burning with strength of her caressing. Her breasts bounced off her arms, jostling painfully, the tender flesh screaming, spurring her excitement.

  “Oh! Oh…Petr!”

  “Yes!” He hammered his cock into her, his hips pummeling her ass in the process, shouting loudly as his warm seed filled her. His orgasm and shouts tumbled her into her own release, her ass milking and tugging on his length, pulling every drop from him.

  His hands stroked the length of her back, slowly pressing along her spine. He eased his length from her, lightly patting her backside. “Stay still.”

  Water ran in the sink off her bedroom, and he returned, running a soft, wet cloth along the seam of her, cleaning the area before tossing the cloth back into the bathroom. “Climb up onto the bed, Elinka.”

  Pressing her knee onto the mattress, her bottomhole ached with the movement. She had no doubt that it was inflamed from all the concentrate activities paid to it today. “Ow,” she whispered quietly.

  “What’s wrong, baby? Hold still; let me see.”

  She elicited a high-pitched keening, the embarrassment almost unbearable. Still on her hands and knees, he gently pried open her cheeks, lightly pulling and prodding the area.

  “There’s no fissure or split. But it is red. Stay still; I’ll put some ointment on it to aid with the inflammation.”

  “Oh Christ.” She dropped her forehead to the mattress, resting on her elbows with her ass still in a raised and prominent position, more vulnerable than she would have liked. And even though he’d just fucked her ass, spanked it, and extracted a plug from it, the act of applying lotion and tending her little hole was almost more than she could handle. It never made sense to her how an act so simple could be pushed into the category of too much so easily.

  “Be quiet.” He rummaged around the bathroom opening and closing cupboard doors before reentering her room, climbing up behind her. Her cheeks were spread open with his fingers. He dabbed something very cold to the irritated skin.

  “This’ll make it feel better, and it’s antiseptic as well. My poor baby has a sore little bum.”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  “Is that any way to talk to your Daddy?” He pinched the underside of her right
buttock—hard.

  “Ow!” She jumped, jerking her hip out of his path and rubbing the offended area. “Sorry…Daddy.” Her voice broke on calling him Daddy. She loved this man and couldn’t fathom how she was going to survive without him, but she couldn’t fathom how she could stay either.

  He swiped his finger along her hip, wiping it clean. “Hey, hey. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, covering them with the blankets. “What’s going on?”

  “I just…I’m not sure we can do this. I mean, how can I love you when you’re a Cardinal? I feel guilty, and then I’m okay, and then depressed. I just yo-yo back and forth with my emotions.”

  “Stop.” He tilted her face up. “There’s nothing we can’t overcome. I know you have guilt. I do too, but we live in a culture where people don’t marry for hundreds of reason, the biggest of which is that it doesn’t fit with their lifestyle. We’re in love, we’re happy, and it has been working for us. More than that, you’re my soul mate, my girl, my little dragon. You can’t leave me.” He kissed her pouty lips.

  “But—”

  “No, listen. I ran into Father Emerson and Chelsea today while making preparations. We were talking about Cardinal Rossi and his woman. We all feel bad for Maria, as there aren’t many who didn’t know about their almost thirty-year relationship. And, of course, you remember that Chelsea and Emerson lived through this, and look at them now. They’re here in the Apostolic Palace with the Pope’s blessing.”

  “But we’ll never be able live openly. You’ve set goals, wanting to be the Pope someday, and you’ve just been given the titles of Cardinal Bishop and Cardinal Dean. We’re doomed to a life of secrecy. I want the world to know, or at a minimum, my family.” She swiped at the tears tracking down her cheeks. “I spend holidays alone. I can’t exchange presents with you on Christmas Eve like other happy couples. I can’t even hold your hand in the gardens. Petr, this isn’t living, is it?”

  Petr tucked her head under his chin, taking in a shaky breath. “I understand your concerns, your sadness. Call it selfishness; I can’t bear to have you leave, but if you decide you must, I’ll accept it. What choice do I have? I’m the one with the commitment to my career; it’s my fault. Just know that my love for you is everlasting.”

  Deep within her, she knew this. She felt it, and had no doubt that her love for him was the foundation he stood on. Her love buoyed him, helped him to weather any struggle or storm.

  But did his love do the same for her?

  Her initial reaction was to respond emphatically yes. Petr was present and caring, but only after church commitments, after any obligations to the Pope. But could the same be said of any woman with a lover? Any wife of her working husband? Relationships come after work commitments.

  Why do I feel it’s different because it’s the Church?

  “Why don’t you speak with Chelsea? Ask her about their relationship and what she knew of Maria and Cardinal Rossi. They are close. She may be able to shed some light on this for you. Until then, cuddle up to me. I need to hold my girl.”

  Chapter 14

  Eliska had asked for a week off, which was approved, no questions asked. They knew that even though she didn’t always agree with Cardinal Rossi, his death had affected her deeply.

  Petr didn’t know that she had taken off a week from work, and didn’t know that she planned on going away to relax and think, reorder her life.

  But before leaving, she asked Chelsea if it would be possible to talk with her about relationships with men in the priesthood. With no hesitation, Chelsea asked her to come to their apartment in the Palace.

  Dragging her luggage down the stairs from her apartment, Eliska put it in the trunk of her little car before driving to the Vatican City.

  Living within walking distance from her job meant her car was rarely used and, as with other vehicles in Rome, it was small enough to navigate the cobble-stoned streets barely able to accommodate them. She parked in the lot near the residences, her heels clacking on the ancient cobbled roads, her mind wandering to the past.

  How many women have walked these roads, tears streaming down their cheeks, their hearts broken from a love with a holy man of God?

  Eliska swallowed past the lump in her throat, shaking her head to dispel the tears threatening to brim in her eyes.

  Before she could open the door to the main foyer of the residence area, Chelsea flung it open. “It’s such a nice day, so I thought I’d meet you at the door so you wouldn’t be confused finding our place.”

  She loved Chelsea, her bubbly personality, but kind and meek. Chelsea pulled her into a hug, the tall slender woman almost dwarfing her in height, her blonde hair fanning over Eliska’s face, the faint smell of Giorgio wafting over her.

  “Come, let’s go inside. I made cookies. Get-togethers are always better with homemade chocolate chip cookies.” She unlocked the door, walking them into their spacious, elaborately decorated suite of rooms. The Roman Catholic Church could never be accused of not gilding everything in its path.

  “I know, I see it on your face. It’s a bit much…but hey, it’s free and its home.” Chelsea waved her hand toward a comfortable couch. “Take a seat. I’ll start us out with cookies and milk. We’ll add alcohol in a little bit.”

  Eliska giggled with her host, a deep dimple showing on Chelsea’s cheek.

  No wonder Emerson fell in love with her. She’s adorable!

  “Okay, here they are.” She walked in with a wooden serving tray, placing it on the marbled coffee table in front of the couch. “Let’s talk. What’s going on with you and Petr? You usually seem so happy.”

  “Well, you don’t walk around the hot porridge, do you?”

  Chelsea blinked several times. “What does that even mean?”

  Eliska laughed. “I always forget. In our country, walking around the porridge is the same as beating around the bush.”

  “Ohhh! No, I don’t believe in side skirting issues; it’s just easier to hit it head on.”

  Eliska took a deep breath. “We are happy…or were. Going home always brings up these feelings in me.” She split a cookie in half, the still warm chocolate oozing into thin strands before she popped one half into her mouth, the buttery dough mixed with walnuts and chocolate tasting better than anything she could remember recently.

  “Going anywhere with friends and family makes our relationships difficult. People want to see us with a partner or a spouse, and loving a man who is married to the Roman Catholic Church doesn’t make this a simple situation. Did your parents guess about your relationship with Petr?” Chelsea sipped her milk, licking a thin strip of it off her top lip.

  “Oh, no! I can’t even—don’t even want to—imagine what would happen if they did. No, they just ask about boyfriends or dates, and then I have to hear the litany and view pictures of friends and neighbors who now have married children and grandchildren. I love Petr and want them to know what a good man he is, how well he treats me and how enthralled I am with him.” Eliska clasped her hands in her lap, no longer able to make eye contact.

  “Why are you embarrassed about that?” Chelsea’s delicate fingers stroked Eliska’s hand. “Look at me.”

  Lifting her gaze, she stared into the woman’s green eyes before replying, “It just feels like loving him is like shitting in your own shoes.”

  “Uh…I suppose one could see it that way.” Chelsea’s eyebrows furrowed.

  Rolling her eyes, Eliska sighed. “Another Czech phrase. It means it’s similar to saying that something is bad karma. Yes?”

  “Oh, yes. I have felt that too. I have, believe me. I even wondered if my marriage ended because I was still in love with Emerson. I wondered many days if it was God punishing me.” She shook her head. “You can’t go there, Eliska. The love you have is deep and right, but the situation is difficult; I’m not going to sugar coat it.”

  The distinctive vibration of a phone on silent filled the room, both women fishing their phones out of their bags, checking their
screens.

  “It’s me.” Chelsea swiped the screen, holding a finger up for Eliska to hold on. “Hi, honey. Yes, I’ve had a good day. I’m sitting here with Chelsea. Yes, we are. I made chocolate chip cookies. Yes, I know. Okay, see you soon.” She swiped her screen again. “He’ll be here in about an hour.”

  “I’ll be gone by then. I’ve decided to leave Petr. I haven’t told him yet, but I’ve taken a week off from work and I’m staying in a hotel for a week. I need time alone, time to think.”

  “Is everything okay? It seems like this is more than just angst.”

  She looked away, watching the birds in the trees just outside the window. “I took a pregnancy test before I left the house. I’m pregnant.”

  Chelsea gasped. “Oh my God, you can’t leave now. He has to know.”

  “I can’t tell him. He’ll…I’m not sure what he’ll do.”

  “He loves you, Eliska. He won’t abandon you. And there is no way that I’m letting you go to a hotel. You could become sick, dehydrated, or God knows what. You’ll stay here in our spare bedroom. I swear it’s as big as our last apartment.”

  “I can’t.” She jumped up, grabbing her purse. Baby or not, she’d risk being alone. “I need to be alone. Besides, Emerson wouldn’t be happy to have a guest here.”

  Chelsea grasped her upper arm. “Emerson loves guests, and he won’t know. I’ll tell him that you planned a vacation and were going to spend it alone, but I asked that you stay here so…we can go shopping and eat out. Which we’ll do! Doesn’t that sound glorious?”

  “You shouldn’t lie for me. You’ll get in trouble.”

  “Pshaw, he’ll be fine once he finds out the reason, but if I tell him now, he’ll just send you back, and that’s not what you want. You want time to think and reflect, but I don’t want to leave you alone or at risk. This way, you have someone to watch over you in case your morning sickness becomes too much or you get low blood sugar.”

  Eliska looked around the room. She had to agree that if the bedrooms were anything like the living quarters, the room would be huge and more than enough space to think and reflect. And it would be nice to go out to eat and have girl time with Chelsea. But she had a niggling fear in the back of her mind about Emerson.