Shall we pick up where we left off, Father Kent?
She brought them together.
Her priest didn’t pull away, but nor did he reciprocate the press of lips on his. At least not at first. Not until Serah flirted her tongue along the line of his mouth. Just a slackening of jaw he afforded her, an exploratory toe dipped in the waters of surrender.
Come on. You can do it.
She tilted her head to the side and nipped at his lower lip, pulling it into her mouth. Her effort brought a deep, full inhalation of breath through his nose, and she felt his chest expand.
Ah. She’d found the trigger.
His mouth accepted now, pulled at her lips with his, opened for her. She was instantly wet. Nothing made her throb quite as well as the thrill of first times. Serah might have to ruin this poor man, but she’d see that they had a damn fine time watching the house burn to the ground.
A pair of male hands seized her by the hips, and it was her turn to inhale in surprise. So soon! She hadn’t expected initiative on his part without far more coaxing, but couldn’t help moaning into his mouth as she felt strong fingers squeezing at the meat of her hips, bunching the royal blue fabric of her skirt between them as though he held tight to some last vestige of sanity.
She reaped the kiss of its full yield, offering her mouth as the first of many bounties he could claim, if he was willing. It lingered until the flames of fervor had burned down to coals and the two of them were more or less calm enough to speak again. Her more than him, perhaps. She pulled away to look him in the eye, and saw something there between wonder and horror.
“Was I in your thoughts, David? While I was gone?” Her voice was throaty, dark.
His brows tilted up in the center, and Serah saw a measure of the turmoil he’d endured over the last two weeks on his face as he looked at her.
“How could you not be?” The words carried pain, accusation, helplessness. They lashed at the empty place where her heart ought to be. It was a strange thing, the way she kept wanting to soothe the very wounds she was inflicting on this man.
He’s your mark. Not some lost puppy. Head in the game, Initiate.
“And did you touch yourself, as I did?” She knew full well he hadn’t, but shifted her hips over his to draw timely attention to the erection straining between them. He snatched his hands away from her waist at this, holding them loosely in the air off to the sides as if they were filthy and he didn’t want to touch anything.
“Of course not.” The priest’s face darkened at this, ashamed of the notice called to his arousal, though he didn’t lose his hold on her eyes. It was as if he thought a moment’s glance away would let her slip some new trickery by him, and he wanted to give her no opportunity. Little did he know she had no intention of sneaking anything anywhere. Serah meant for him to see every sordid step in the process of his undoing.
She drew her right hand inward from his shoulder to trace along the line of his throat. Her first two fingers came around and slid behind the square tab of white plastic showing just below his Adam’s apple. A smile curled her lips as she pinched together with her thumb and drew the insert out and completely away.
“You’re only a man, David,” she said, dangling the confiscated portion of collar like a pendulum between their faces. “This doesn’t free you from thoughts. Desires.”
“Don’t.” He was adamant, and made a grab to reclaim the lost bit of vestment, but it was gone in a casual toss over her shoulder. He could pick it up when they were done.
Serah traced her now empty hand down over his chest until her fingers met the leather of his belt. He had less than a second for his eyes to snap wide in realization before she crossed his waistline and took up a handful of male need through the black fabric of his trousers. “Only a man,” she repeated, “Flesh like the rest of us.”
The priest’s body started in a small jolt at the contact, but she didn’t linger. Serah had only been making a point, and now her hands were busy elsewhere.
The first button of her blouse came open under deft movements of her fingers, reigniting the fire of his objections.
“Please! You have to stop! This is too far. Too far!”
A lot of words, but David Kent had two hands as well. Hands which he was not using to push her away or prevent her progress, she noted with a smirk. Four more buttons she worked apart, all under obligatory protests from the man, but still no moves on his part to halt what she did. His mind and body were playing this game on two different teams. Did he realize this?
A roll of her shoulders and a tug, and the blouse was on the floor with his collar insert. Black lace cups held an abundance of breast on display for the priest. His complaints were silenced.
She laced her fingers together behind his neck, pushing the temptation of cleavage higher, nearer to his face. “You like what you see, Priest?”
His eyes flitted from her breasts to her face in disbelief, and then, to her satisfaction, back again. A dazed shake of his head, and she noticed his hands had returned to her waist. Serah knew the answer to her own question, but made a point of grinding her hips over his, the first real suggestive movement of the sort, to call attention to the lust springing up between his legs.
“Your body seems to approve,” she said, putting the obvious into words. He winced at this and looked down, as if not staring directly at the enticements she offered would make Serah and her curves simply disappear. Unfortunately for him, she had no intention of going anywhere except down that road so infamously paved with good intentions.
She slid a hand down between them again, this time under her skirt, until her fingers found their wet goal and were coated after the tracing of a slick path. The priest couldn’t help but see this and he stiffened as she drew them back out, eyes darting back up to hers, fearfully expectant.
In a deliberate move, she brought her hand up and painted a line of her scent along the rim of his upper lip. Serah never saw a pair of eyes light on fire so quickly. He said nothing, but his lips parted, and she could practically hear his heartbeat accelerate.
“David,” she purred with satisfaction, “you seem be having the same effect on me.” Serah leaned forward again, resting her forehead on his, delighted to suddenly feel his hands slide up from her hips to just under her ribcage. The first cracks were forming. Now for the wedge.
She nuzzled her face alongside his, whispering more provocations into his ear. “You’ve never known the scent of a woman, have you Father?”
“Serah … ” Her name was a plea for mercy. She gave him none.
“This is what Lust smells like,” she said, treating him to a sharp roll of her hips to accompany the name of their sin as she carried them forward, breaking his vows into smaller and smaller pieces as they went. “And I imagine since you’ve never smelled a woman before, you’ve never tasted one either?”
Serah was swift to push herself up to stand over the bewildered priest, still astride his thighs. In a move both brazen and confrontational, she brought her right foot up to perch on the deep, wooden chair rail which ran the perimeter of the confessional. The walls were very close, and she didn’t have to stretch her leg far. The shocked face of the priest was now more or less of a height with the secrets she wanted to share with him.
With a flourish, she hiked up the flowing blue fabric of her skirt and tucked it into its own waistband in front. Her mark rocked back in his seat.
“Oh God!” The words rushed out, another affront to his station, but the man was transfixed.
Now that she had every bit of his attention right where she wanted it, Serah slid her palm along her bent thigh. She watched with approval as his eyes followed the motion. When she arrived at her bare pussy, she cupped the mound, kneading at the shaven flesh: an invitation.
The man was on edge. She could nearly taste it in the air. Just a bit further. Two fingers dipped between her lips, gliding, toying. Serah splayed herself for him, circled her clit with her middle finger, focused fully on the s
ubtle changes in the priest’s expression and body language.
His jaw slackened, mouth came open the tiniest bit. She abandoned her clit and pushed the same finger inside, letting him watch her languid strokes. There was little attempt to pleasure herself, though Serah did admit to becoming wetter by the second at the sight of her sweet Father Kent losing the battle for resistance. No, aside from being another form of temptation, her little display was designed more to provide the man with a silent, cursory lesson in female anatomy. Who knew what he’d already seen, or hadn’t? Even in texts.
She let out a soft moan of frustration, teasing fingers finding her clit again, when it happened. A male hand brushed the back of her unbent knee. Serah glanced down to see his whole body leaning just the slightest bit forward. They’d reached the break.
“David … ”
Her movements came to a halt, fingers drew away. The hand gripped at the back of her thigh, a most unholy thing to do, and then, without ceremony, the priest fell over the edge.
Now his face was nuzzling at the inside of her splayed thigh, lips brushing over the pale, smooth skin there. His eyes were closed, lost in the experience, and the sight of him, at peace for a moment with his own defeat, clutched at something in Serah’s chest.
Don’t be weak, Initiate. That’s his job.
His kisses found their way closer to the point of no return, tentative, but committed. They stopped an inch from her mound, and brown eyes flitted up to hers, uncertain. Her mouth turned up in a wicked grin.
Serah laced her fingers through his hair until she had a fistful at the back of his head. The handhold served to bring him closer yet, and she grazed her pussy against his mouth, just a slip of contact from a turn of her hips. And last came the words, like a carefully chosen set of spurs.
“This is my body, Priest. Take. Eat.”
His eyes flooded with lament. “Oh Serah, don’t say that. Not those words. Not here. Not now.”
As much sorrow as the man could pour into his protests, though, the last of his words were mumbled into the plump folds between her thighs. He closed the final gap himself, needing no push from her hand, and began to taste for himself the thing that brought so many men tied in knots to the other side of the confessional.
She had to give the man credit. For his first time, he wasn’t the least bit timid, or even squeamish. He was eager, ravenous even, taking it all in, trying anything that appeared to come to mind. His tongue wriggled and rasped, delved into her entrance, lapped at her clit. Serah stroked at his hair in approval, and was surprised to find him pulling genuine moans of pleasure from her as he took up a gentle suckling.
His fingertips traced the curves of her lips and the silk of her opening, curious but not bold enough yet for any attempt at penetration. Long moments of heavy heartbeats and deep, full breaths passed them by, the priest lost in his first taste, and Serah adoring the beautiful surrender on his features. She wasn’t going to climax, but this mattered little and she didn’t fault him for it. It took a woman ages to learn the complexities of her own body; a man couldn’t be expected to figure them out in so many minutes. Still, for a novice, he was making her throb with his explorations far more than she’d expected. And most of that was coming from the way he seemed to treasure every sigh and flutter he managed to coax out of her.
Enough, Serah. He’s ready.
She stepped away, bringing her raised foot back down to the floor. The priest was left leaning forward and blinking, snapped out of his trance by her departure. With a step backward and a nudge she had his knees apart and, before his mind had time to process thoughts in rational order, came to kneel between them. The wood floor was far from comfortable, but the small annoyance was worth the reward this careful seduction would earn her.
Are you watching, Great One?
The broken angel between David’s knees brought her hands to both sides of his face and pulled him into a hungry kiss. His efforts to return the press of her lips, the nip of her teeth, were far from sober. He was still reeling from the delicious catastrophe he’d allowed himself to partake in, right here in the Lord’s house. Despite the instant regret wrenching at his heart, though, some new force within had him returning her kisses in earnest. It was all too, too good.
You’re utterly fucked, David.
…
See? You’re even swearing in your thoughts now.
Her hands fell to his thighs. She squeezed, promising more trouble yet, and slid them up toward his hips. A palm grazed over the swell of his erection, making him inhale sharply.
“Will you know your own pleasure, David?” Her cheek slipped against his and the words found his ear, dark and damning. She’d spoken to that most hidden, shameful fear, and it made him throb. How he could be terrified and aroused at the same time was beyond him. A thumb traced his length through the binding trousers, and he groaned. This had to stop or he’d be ruined.
“Serah, please,” he said, pulling away and straightening in the chair. He snatched his hands away from her arms as well, determined not to send conflicting messages, though that was precisely what filled his own head. This is a nightmare. “I don’t know why you came back. I don’t know anything about you! What do you want? Why are you doing this?”
“Why are you doing this, Father Kent?” She smirked, lowering herself further to sit on her heels, that maddening curtain of red hair framing her breasts as she made a show of dragging the ripe flesh down over his lap. “Time to finally see for yourself why so many wind up on their knees to confess?”
Her words slapped at him, and held his own fantasies up in accusation. He did want to see for himself, and it pained him every day that he couldn’t put the curiosity aside.
This was a test. It had to be. David flung himself at the wall yet again, hoping to grab hold of the ledge this time and pull himself up and over, where he’d so obviously failed the first time.
“You don’t understand the damage that’s been done!” He tried to make his words quiet, but forceful. Perhaps this was some depraved game to her. It almost seemed to be: she’d begun to nuzzle that impossibly perfect face of hers against his erection, delicate fingers working at his belt buckle. Panic rose up in his throat. “You have to stop, for the love of God!”
She looked back up at him then, green eyes full to the brim with calm challenge, a tiny smile calling his bluff. “Then stop me,” she said, tugging open the button. He knew the zipper was next.
What are you waiting for? Make her stop.
It was as if she’d plucked the thoughts straight from his mind.
“You’re bigger than I am,” she said, tugging fabric aside. “Stronger.” Pulling his shirt tails out. “Raise your hands against me.” Her palm slid up over his belly. A suggestion of fingernails dragged back down. She stopped, with her fingers curled around the waistband of his underwear.
I’m going to have a heart attack.
“Push me away.” She had a knowing arch to her brow. “I dare you.”
He did nothing. He didn’t want to.
Snug material shifted. His shame stood free. She took it in hand and her grip was warm, soft; a perfect Hell.
You’re a failure. You’ve failed.
Serah tsked at him and made a regretful whining noise at the back of her throat. She took in the sight of his erection sliding under her fingers. The tip of a pink tongue swept out to moisten her lips. His hands gripped the edges of the seat.
Oh, God. Oh God, I want …
“Mmm, look at you, David,” she cooed, turning him this way and that, admiring. “Such a waste.” She trailed the underside of his shaft along the silk of her cheek, stopping to pillow her lips against the plump tip in a light kiss along the way. “Did you have to be celibate to read all those books?”
The question twisted in his guts, but she was in no need of answers. The kisses became greedy, dangerous, and Serah spoke to him now between slow laps of her tongue. “You could have spread the Good Word … all the same … without
denying yourself. And you know it.”
The Devil himself couldn’t have played on his doubts with more finesse. And those lips, that tongue, the stroking fingers … There was nothing else like it. So good. So fucking good.
“Oh please. Oh Holy Lord, I can’t!” His fingernails were scraping the underside of the seat, head back, eyes squeezed shut against the sight of her showing him everything he’d been missing. Something tightened low in his belly, working its way upward until it had him by the chest as well. He began to beg.
“Please, please, please.” His hips were moving, grinding, his body pushing itself into her care without his permission. Her lips were … where?
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
He felt teeth drag over his flesh. “Please what, lover?”
And then he made his last mistake. He looked.
Several inches of straining, eager cock came back out of her mouth and a fine thread of saliva broke and fell away. She gave the now wet shaft a few deliberate pumps with her hand. He felt as though something were going to leap out from under his ribs at the sight. Her eyes were aflame, holding his now, intent and provoking him.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Jaw clenched so tight it seemed teeth were about to crack, he gave her the quickest shake of his head. She knew the answer already. And so did he.
Her tongue drew a sinuous path the full length of his arousal, from base to tip, and flicked him at the end for punctuation. The look she gave him then was lush, heavy with meaning.
“Do you want me to suck your cock, David?” Each word was artfully placed, laden with consequence. She had him in hand, gently stroking.
“Please,” he ground out, eyes nearly watering with the intensity of his need. This beautiful creature was destroying him, and for his life he wanted her to do it slowly so he could watch.
She arched a brow, giving him a squeeze at his base, brushing her thumb over the tightening skin of his scrotum. There would be no more from her until he admitted what it was that he wanted. For a second he closed his eyes, exhaled. Then: he said the words.
The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set) Page 26
