by Selena Kitt
“And he wasn’t bound by any of man’s laws.” His voice was soft, his eyes too, as he gazed down into hers. “He loved her without restraint.”
His kiss burned her lips, fire scorching its way down her throat, into her belly, through her limbs as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was lost, too buoyed by his words to stop, to let herself think about anything but how he felt pressed against her, his hands moving to her lower back to press her closer.
“Oh Emily,” he whispered, finally breaking the kiss, his face buried in her hair. She whimpered in his arms. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I can’t help it. I want you so much.”
“I want you too,” she confessed, letting her bare thigh slide between his. She wasn’t wearing tights under her uniform skirt—just knee socks.
“We can’t,” he croaked, holding her out at arm’s length.
“Oh Father, please…” She couldn’t stop, not now, knowing he wanted her, just as much as she did him. He’d professed not just lust, which was a sin, but love for her, and she believed him. It had been there a long time between them, unspoken, forbidden. But it was here now, burst forth, and nothing could stop it.
Emily wrapped herself around him, arms and legs and everything, her hungry mouth searching for his. He groaned in protest, trying to peel her off, but she stuck fast, knocking them both off balance, and he stumbled back against one of the pews.
“Oh no…” he managed, sitting with Emily in his arms, straddling him now, her plaid skirt riding up, the crotch of her panties rubbing against his zipper as they rocked together. “Oh God, please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t…”
“But you want to. I can tell,” she whispered, feathering hot kisses over his neck, where no collar kept them at bay. His erection was a swollen heat between them.
“Just because we want to… doesn’t mean we should,” he gasped, grabbing onto her hips to try and still her.
“So you do want to.” Emily smiled. “You really think I’m pretty?”
“Oh Emily, yes.” He lowered his forehead to her breasts, breathing deep and giving a tortured sigh. “Yes, yes, you’re beautiful. Exquisite.”
She couldn’t believe her own daring, knowing full well where they were, but her uniform blouse came undone easily.
“Do you like my breasts?” she asked, cupping them in her bra like an offering. The light in the chapel was hazy and a slat of sunlight fell across her chest, blinding them both.
“Oh God.” He stared, dazed, on perfect eye-level. “Yes, sweetheart. Yes.”
“My nipples get hard when you play with them. Like this.” She rubbed her thumbs over them through her bra, shivering at the sensation. He moaned, shaking his head in denial, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off what she was doing.
“They’re pink,” she confessed. “But they get redder and redder the more you play with them. Want to see?”
He gasped as she reached around to unfasten her bra. “No… oh no…”
“Are you sure?” She unhooked it easily, sliding the straps down her shoulders. Her breasts were heavy and rounded, the skin around her nipples puckered, making them stand at attention.
“Oh my God, they’re beautiful,” he breathed, and she felt his grip tighten on her hips, as if they had wandering minds of their own and he was fighting the force of it.
“Do you want to touch them?” She arched, pressing closer, her left nipple just inches from his lips.
“Yes.” He groaned, shaking his head, turning it aside as if he could deny her. “No, no…”
But it was no use. His palms slid up over her ribcage to cup one in each hand.
“Oh yes… squeeze them together like that… ohhhhh…” Emily moaned, arching her back.
“This is so wrong…” He whispered his words against the soft press of her breasts, showering kisses over her cleavage.
“Suck them, Father,” she begged. “Suck my nipples.”
He buried his face in her breasts like a drowning man diving into a pool of fresh water, drinking her in with every gasping breath as Emily wiggled in his lap. His tongue bathed each nipple in turn, making her hips buck up against his in response.
“Yes! Oh yes! Oh that makes me so hot!” she gasped, reaching for and finding one of his hands. “Feel it. I’m on fire.”
He groaned, shaking his head between her ample cleavage, but she moved his hand to cup her mound under her skirt, feeling how damp her white cotton panties had grown.
“You’re so hard, Father Mark,” she whispered, rocking herself against his crotch. “Have you ever…?”
“No…” he croaked.
“Can you imagine what it feels like?” She pulled her panties aside, her brown-fur-covered mound pulsing with heat. “Put your finger in.”
He groaned. “No, Emily, I can’t…”
“Just your finger,” she pleaded. “That can’t be too bad of a sin, can it?”
Curling her hips forward, she felt his finger slip inside her sheath. He moaned and his cock jumped against her in response.
“See? So soft and wet and slick…” she murmured, rolling her hips. “What must it feel like to slide inside, do you think?”
“Please. I’m begging you.” He was fighting hard to catch his breath. “I’m a weak man, Emily. You make me so weak.”
“Me?” Smiling, she traced the outline of his lips with her index finger. “I do that?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you do that.”
Oh his fingers were moving, slowly in and out of her wetness, exploring. She closed her eyes, his thumb rubbing occasionally over the sweet spot she had learned as a child to rub up against anything and everything, until the very first time, on the top of a wooden fence post of all things, she had experienced her first climax, the thrust and shudder of which nearly toppled her eight feet to the ground.
She’d done it a lot more after that, finding new and better ways to stimulate that spot. Her favorite was a teddy bear she’d had since she was six. He was old and faded, balding in several spots, but he had a hard, wide plastic nose that was just perfect to rub against. Her mother thought she was being sentimental in keeping him, but Emily’s motivation was far more calculated than that.
“Father Mark, please,” she whispered against his ear, daring to reach between them, oh God, the heat and length of his cock against her hand! It jumped like a snake under his zipper. “Make love to me. Right here, right now. I want you. Please. I love you so much.”
He didn’t respond, but his hand didn’t stop moving, working furiously between her legs, faster and faster, taking the sensation even higher. She moaned and cried out, her thighs quivering as she straddled him, her nimble fingers stroking his length through the denim of his jeans. They kissed, softly at first, then growing deeper, tongues twining, soft moans echoing off the pews, rising up to the steepled ceiling above.
“Father Mark!” Emily gasped, squirming, riding faster, oh she never wanted it to end! Her cheeks were flushed with heat, the sloppy, wet plunge of his fingers making glorious music between her legs. “Oh! Ohhhh! I’m… ohhhhh!”
“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmured, his other hand moving to cup her neck, bringing her head down to his shoulder as she shook with her climax in his lap. “Oh sweet, sweet Emily, that’s it. Let it all go. Beautiful. So beautiful.”
She whimpered, her orgasmic contractions pulling deeply at his probing fingers, sucking at them with every delicious spasm. Father Mark slid his hand from between her thighs and she cried out at the loss of him, wanting more, but he pulled her sideways on his lap, cradling her like a baby in his arms, raining kisses over her cheeks and forehead as they rocked.
“God help me,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t help myself. What am I going to do with you?”
“Everything,” she murmured, tilting her head back to meet his smoky, green gaze. His eyes were dark with lust. “Anything.”
He groaned again. “You are far too much temptation for me.”
“
Is that a yes?” she asked eagerly, wiggling in his lap. He was still fully erect, throbbing.
“Emily…” He gave a deep sigh, closing his eyes, and when he opened them, her heart thrilled at his response. “Can you sneak out of your dorm late tonight?”
“Yes!” She had no idea how she would do it, but she knew she would meet him anywhere.
“Here at the chapel?” He kissed her mouth, soft. “Midnight?”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Do we have to wait?”
“The carnival…” He reminded her of reality, sliding her slowly, reluctantly from his lap, putting her on the pew beside him. “Too many people around.”
She whimpered in protest, but she let him clothe her, bra and blouse, giving her a little kiss at the fastening of each button, and then he pulled her to standing.
“I don’t want to go,” she confessed, feeling him squeeze her hand. They had both just managed to catch their breath. “I can’t wait until tonight.”
He nodded, leading her to the front of the chapel. Up on the podium there were two prominent statues, one of Mary holding a baby Jesus, the other of Jesus on the cross. There were a few other minor statues as well, and one on the left that caught Emily’s eye particularly.
“Yes.” Father Mark smiled as she let go of his hand, wandering over to the statue, tall and graceful, a beautiful woman even though her eyes were painted black and two trails, like dark tears, flowed down her cheeks. “This is what I came here to show you.”
“Poor Lucy.” Emily touched the statue’s grey cheek, tracing the saint’s lovely tears.
“She can see, even though she’s blind.” Father Mark spoke in hushed tones. “God has given her special sight. She can see things others can’t. Her name means light, you know.”
“Does it?” She felt his hands on her shoulders, massaging gently, and she trembled at his touch.
“I don’t ever want you to hide your light under a basket, Emily.” His kiss fell on the top of her head, along her hairline. “Let it shine. Like St. Lucy.”
She sighed, leaning back against him. “You make me feel so good.”
“The feeling is very mutual.” His arms went around her waist and they stood there like that in the multicolored patterned late afternoon light coming in through the stained glass windows above, neither of them wanting to break the hushed spell. It was the sound of the carnival that reached them—the faint clang of a bell and the roar of people. Someone had clearly won the strongman game and the crowd approved.
“I’d better get you back.” Father Mark took her hand and led her down the podium steps.
Emily walked slowly, not wanting their time together to end. “Your great-great-great grandfather really helped build this place?”
“My great-great grandfather was also a preacher. But my grandfather was a rebel. He split from his family, and the Baptists, and converted to Catholicism. He left his family to become a priest.”
Emily stared at him. “He left his family?”
“Yes. My father was a baby at the time.” Father Mark ran his hand along the back of one of the polished pews as they hesitated at the back of the chapel. “He grew up hating the church. He’s an atheist still. We don’t speak.”
“He didn’t want you to become a priest?” Emily was beginning to understand his earlier comments about his father.
“No.”
“Why did you?”
“Honestly?” Father Mark led her out the same door they’d come in through, turning to lock it behind him. “Someone broke my heart a long time ago, and I thought I could never love anyone else. The priesthood seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, becoming a priest was a direct rebellion against my father.”
She watched him pocket the key, feeling slightly jealous of that long, lost love. “Do you think Catholic priests will ever be allowed to marry?”
“Technically, it’s possible. It’s Canon Law, not dogma, so the law could be changed. Some day. But I don’t think so, Emily. Not in my lifetime. Not in our lifetime.”
He turned toward her, taking her into his arms. It was so easy, and felt so right. If this was a sin, she decided, then she would burn in hell.
“Do you really love me?” She lifted her face to his, searching his eyes for the truth, and finding it. She traced the cross she had placed on his cheek, like a brand.
“I do.” His lips were warm, his words mumbled. “God help me, I do.”
“What are we going to do?” She put her head on his chest.
“I don’t know.” His sigh was felt more than heard, his hand moving softly through her hair. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to love you.” Her arms tightened around him. “Even God can’t stop love.”
He lifted her chin, his gaze falling to her mouth. “I don’t think he wants to.”
They kissed, hungry for each other, sealing the promise of their love under a fading, dusky apricot sky, far too distracted to really notice the movement and flash at the edge of the woods, the giggling of two girls bent on making trouble wherever they went. Emily caught something out of the corner of her eye as they parted and remarked on it, and Father Mark scanned the woods as they walked, but there was nothing except the wind in the trees and the distant sound of the carnival to keep them company as they made their way back.
* * * *
“Someone slipped that under the door for you.” Alexis pointed to Emily’s desk as she came into the room. Alexis was stretched out on her bed, reading something on her Kindle, and she turned her attention back to it almost immediately.
Emily eyed the envelope, her stomach sinking to her knees. She recognized the handwriting. It was her ex-roommate Jenny’s. She slipped a fingernail under the edge, slowly prying it open. It was just a plain envelope, a plain piece of lined notebook paper, but the words written on it would ruin not only her life, but Father Mark’s as well.
“So what is it?” Alexis interrupted Emily’s fatalistic thoughts.
Emily crumpled the letter, shoving it into her jeans pocket. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” Alexis sat up, tossing her Kindle beside her on the bed. “I saw Eve hanging around at this end of the hall. Is it from them? Is it another prank?”
“Maybe.” Emily reluctantly handed the note over to her friend, hanging her head, letting her thick, brown hair fall and cover her face as her roommate read it.
“Oh my God!” Alexis exclaimed. “They’re going to get in so much trouble! Accusing Father Mark of something like this? It’s like… blackmail! You should take this to Bishop Avery!”
Emily covered her face with her hands—her hair wasn’t doing a good enough job—her voice muffled. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She dropped her hands, looking at her roommate and new friend, red-faced. “Because it’s true.”
“You and… you and Father Mark?” Alexis whispered. Her jaw dropped.
“I love him,” Emily said quickly, defiantly. Adding, “And he loves me.”
“Oh my God.” Alexis crossed herself without even thinking, like any good Catholic girl, even as she took the Lord’s name in vain.
Emily burst into tears. She couldn’t help it.
“Oh no, Emily, no, don’t cry!” Alexis went over to Emily’s bed, sitting and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Listen, I don’t care. If they want my stupid TV, they can have it. That’s all they’re asking for, right? So we give it to them. No big deal.”
Emily sobbed harder, really giving into it, letting go of the tension, the secrets she’d been keeping, from Jenny and Eve’s horrible pranks to her love for Father Mark.
“You don’t understand.” Emily accepted Alexis’s offered Kleenex, loudly blowing her nose. “They just want to torment me. That’s all they’ve ever wanted. So we give them your TV. What are they going to ask for next? They’re not just going to stop.”
Alexis sighed, giving her friend another Kleenex. “I talked to Eve last n
ight in the commons.”
“You did?”
“She was drunk. She said she’d been fighting with Jenny. I don’t think it’s Eve who keeps doing this to you. Or, at least, I think she’s really being influenced by Jenny. Do you know what she said?”
“What?”
“She said she wished she’d never traded rooms.”
Emily met her new friend’s eyes, realization dawning. “She wants you back.”
Alexis nodded. “But now she feels stuck.”
“Poor Eve.” Emily chewed her knuckle, thinking. She turned to her roommate, clutching her arm. “Alexis, I have an idea that may fix everything.”
“Everything?”
“Well maybe not hunger and world peace. But at least everything for us.”
Alexis sat forward, cross-legged and eager. “Tell me.”
She did.
* * * *
She worried all night about how she was going to manage it—they had a midnight curfew but she slipped out without incident, leaving Alexis snoring face down on her bed, and her entire dorm sleeping in the still October night. The air was cold enough to make her gasp. She felt safe, in spite of the darkness and the fact she was making the walk alone. All of the church property was gated, including the school, the church where they went to mass on Sundays, and the park.
Besides, all she could think about was Father Mark, waiting for her in the chapel. She used her iPhone—now fully charged, all the offensive messages erased—to light her way down the path, through the woods, being careful not to trip over logs. A twisted ankle now would be horrible timing. It seemed to take her forever to get to the clearing, but then there it was, the black steeple rising up to touch the silvery orb of the moon overhead.
The side door was open, as he’d promised, and she slipped inside, breathless and shivering, from both cold and excitement. There were no lights on, but instead the warm glow of candles everywhere she looked, all over the podium, up the stairs, on the pews. Emily gasped at the effect, each point of light turning the little chapel into something even more holy and sacred.
