11. Unholy Desires
Chapter eleven
Unholy Desires
Cassian
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not in her house.
Not in her arms.
And certainly not tasting her mouth as though it held the answers to every prayer I’d ever whispered in the dead of night.
But God help me, I couldn’t stop.
Her lips were soft—so soft—and they trembled against mine, hesitating for the briefest of seconds before yielding.
That faint, tentative parting destroyed what little restraint I had left.
My hands cupped her face, angling her just the way I needed, desperate to deepen the kiss, to pour every forbidden desire into her.
I knew this was wrong.
She was vulnerable, raw from the pressure of her grief and guilt.
I had come here knowing that.
I told myself I came here tonight to spare her the shock of waking up alone and wondering where her mother had gone.
That was the excuse.
The truth was far darker, a truth I could barely admit to myself.
I came here because I needed to see her.
My entire being ached to be in her presence.
There was this insatiable thirst to come to her home tonight, to catch her. . .unclothed. . .
I almost didn’t knock before opening the door. I almost just went inside to watch her sleep.
To maybe. . .touch her while she slumbered.
But I knocked, and when she finally opened her bedroom door. . .that thin nightgown clung to her like sin itself, teasing me with those decadent secrets of soft curves and delicate skin.
I tried not to look, to focus on the reason I had come, but my gaze betrayed me, drinking her in like a man starved.
I was supposed to be a protector, a shepherd of her soul.
Instead, I was a wolf, devouring her with my eyes, hungering for something I had no right to crave.
And now I had her.
Her scent surrounded me, warm and sweet like honey heated in sunlight.
It clung to my skin, filled my lungs, and obliterated every rational thought. It wasn’t the faint, floral perfume she sometimes wore—it was something uniquely hers, something that drew me in and made me want to bury my face in her neck, to inhale her until I forgot who I was.
What I was. . .
And what would the sisters say if they saw me now?
I could already hear their voices in my head—gentle but firm reminders of my vows, my duty, my calling.
Vows. . .
The word echoed like a distant bell.
I had made vows to God.
I had chosen a life where there was no room for this—for her.
Yet here I was.
She was a temptation that I couldn’t fight.
I wouldn’t fight.
I pressed my lips forcefully against hers, unable to resist the intoxicating softness that elicited a desperate gasp from her. With each stroke of my tongue against hers, I devoured her, taking in every ounce of her flavor and savoring it like a fine wine.
Oh. . .God. . .
A primal growl erupted from deep within me, a raw expression of desire that I couldn't contain any longer.
Her hands clutched at my shirt, pulling me closer, and my resolve shattered completely.
This was more than a kiss.
This was a fall.
And I fell hard.
Every logical thought, my vows, my faith, any prayer that I’d ever murmured on my knees, dissolved into the growing lustful fire between us.
My body betrayed me, reacting to her closeness, her softness, in a way that sent a wave of shame and hunger crashing through me.
My cock hardened against her, and instead of pulling away in horror, she leaned into me and rubbed her body against that growing length.
Mmmm.
If this were just a hint of what pleasure she could bring then I had missed out my entire life.
Just the softness of her curves deliriously fueled the already nerve-shattering ache within my chest.
What am. . .I doing?
I wasn’t just breaking a vow—I was hammering at the very foundation of who I was supposed to be.
Yet, in this moment, none of it mattered.
I wanted her sadness gone.
I wanted the guilt and the fear that weighed on her to disappear.
And, God help me, I wanted to be the one to take it all away.
And even more, her taste was too intoxicating—a mixture of sweetness and salt from the tears she had shed moments before.
It made me greedy.
I needed more of her.
More of her lips.
More of her warmth.
Yet, I also couldn’t stop thinking. . . .what if this kiss condemned me?
Was this single moment enough to erase years of devotion, of service, of faith?
Did it matter?
No.
Because right now, the only faith I had was in the way she clung to me, as though I were her anchor in a storm she couldn’t control.
Her breathing hitched as I slid my hand to the curve of her waist.
I shouldn’t have touched her.
Not there.
Not anywhere.
But I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t think I ever would be able to stop when it came to Celeste.
Her lips parted again, and I groaned against her mouth, pressing my hips so that my cock pushed against her.
Mmmm.
My entire body was on fire, the kind of heat that burned hotter with every second she was in my arms.
And once again, I thought of the repercussions.
Of the sisters.
Of the Church.
Of God.
And then I thought of her.
Her lips.
Her scent.
The way her body fit so perfectly against mine.
And I decided that the repercussions could wait.
Because in this moment, she was all I wanted.
“God forgive me,” I whispered again against her mouth, but this time the words were hollow. A desperate plea to a deity I wasn’t sure could hear me over the sound of my heartbeat booming in my ears.
Celeste’s hands moved up, sliding along my chest, her touch hesitant yet hungry, as though testing the boundaries of whatever this was.
“I can’t stop myself,” I murmured, and kissed her harder, deeper.
“Oh, Father Cassian,” she whispered against my lips. “You definitely don’t have to stop.”
There was so much confusion and longing in her voice.
And hearing my name like that—spoken in a way that was neither formal nor distant—was my final undoing.
There was no stopping now.
I was hers.
Completely.
And her lips were my sanctuary, and her taste was the prayer I never knew I needed.
Every kiss plunged me deeper into the abyss, and I didn’t want to climb out.
I couldn’t.
She whimpered softly against my mouth. “Kiss me all you want.”
Her body trembled, and the sound struck something intensely primal in me. Something I’d buried beneath years of discipline and devotion. It roared to life now, uncontainable and insatiable, drowning out every warning bell ringing in my mind.
My hands moved before my thoughts could catch up, finding the knot of her robe and tugging it loose with a sharp pull.
The soft fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her elbows, leaving her bare to me except for that damned thin nightgown clinging to her curves.
I pulled back just enough to see her, to take in the way the kitchen light spilled across her brown skin, turning her into something ethereal.
Something I didn’t deserve.
Something I would ruin.
And I couldn’t stop.
God help me, I couldn’t stop.
“You’re so beautiful,” My voice came out hoarse and saturated in hunger. “I should get on my knees and just. . .worship you. . .pray to only you. . .”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I. . .don’t know what to say. . .to that. . .”
“I shouldn’t be here doing this—”
“I don’t want you to stop—”
“Because you’re vulnerable—”
“And don’t forget horny.”
I swallowed. “Be careful, Celeste. A priest is not standing in front of you right now.”
“Then, who is in front of me?”
“A man who is obsessed with you. A man who will break his vows to God for you. A man who would rather go to Hell, then miss the opportunity of tasting that sweet, lush space between your thighs.”
She bit her bottom lip. “What if there’s no Hell or Heaven and just—”
“My cock is too hard right now for an argument on theology.”
“Well. . .if this is wrong, then let us both be damned together."
I groaned.
To my shock, she smirked and was about to say something else, but I silenced her with another kiss.
This one wasn’t tender.
It was a brand.
A claiming.
For some unholy reason, I needed her to know—needed her to feel—that she was mine.
I’d just decided that very declaration while looking at her.
Groaning, I slid her robe the rest of the way off, letting it fall to the floor.
Yes. She’s mine.
My hands skimmed down her arms, over the delicate slope of her shoulders, and then lower, tracing the curve of her waist.
She shivered beneath my touch and her breath hitched, and I swore I would never forget the sound.
I need to see more. I need to taste more.
Gripping her hips, I lifted Celeste with ease, placing her on the edge of the nearest counter. Her legs parted instinctively, allowing me to step between them, and the heat of her body seared through the thin barrier of her nightgown.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” I murmured against her neck and brushed my lips along her soft brown skin,
My head went dizzy with her scent.
I kissed the hollow of her throat, letting my tongue dart out to taste the faint saltiness and sweetness of her flesh.
Sparks of pleasure hit me.
She gasped, and her hands clutched at my shoulders as if to steady herself.
The sound was my undoing.
I pressed her back against the wall. “I have to taste you.”
And what did I truly know of tasting a woman?
Yet, the man within me—the sinner, the ravenous beast I had denied for so long—knew exactly what to do.
Desire coursed through my cock like an unholy fire, guiding my hands and mouth with a certainty that was absolutely primal, ancient, as if this act had been etched into my soul long before I’d ever laid eyes on her.
My lips found her neck again, trailing kisses along the column of her throat.
Groaning, I traced my tongue on her neck, along the delicate pulse point where her heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird.
She arched against me and moaned.
That sound.
It was sweeter than any hymn, more sacred than any scripture.
And it was mine.
Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me on, and I obeyed without question.
I kissed lower, my lips skimming the hollow of her throat, down to the gentle curve of her collarbone.
She was trembling, her body responding to every touch, every kiss, as though she had been waiting for this as long as I had.
“Celeste,” I whispered against her skin.
“Don’t stop.” She tilted her head back, exposing more of her neck to me, and I took full advantage, my tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path down to the swell of her breast.
Oh yes. I must.
Her nightgown was in the way, a flimsy barrier that only heightened my frustration.
Overtaken with need, I gripped the thin straps and slid them down her arms, watching as the fabric pooled at her waist, revealing those soft, supple breasts I had craved to see.
God is a wonderous magician. How could I not want her? How could she not be put on this Earth for me?
Celeste was so breathtaking. Her breasts were full, their perfect curves rising and falling with each unsteady breath she took.
Her dark nipples were taut and begging for my attention.
The soft glow of light poured over her skin, highlighting every exquisite detail, as though even the heavens couldn’t help but worship her.
I swallowed hard, and my chest tightened, and my lungs even forgot how to function.
The sight of her, laid bare before me, was an impious vision of beauty that stole every coherent thought from my mind.
And my control—what little I had left—slipped further with every second I let myself linger on her perfection.
My fingers twitched, desperate to trace the delicate slope of her curves, to feel the warmth of her beneath my hands. Every primal, ravenous part of me screamed to claim her, to mark her as mine in a way that could never be undone.
She shivered under my gaze.
“I have. . .” Lust vibrated through me. “I have never seen anything so breathtaking, so sinful, and so utterly worth my damnation.”
Her cheeks flushed. “You won’t be damned.”
“In this moment. . .I don’t care if I am damned, as long as I have you.” I leaned over fast and closed my lips around one of her nipples.
A soft whimper escaped her.
I sucked gently at first, my tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, testing her reactions.
So heavenly.
Her hands clutched at my shoulders.
Her nails dug into my skin as she let out a breathy moan. “Cassian!”
Hearing my name on her lips like that—so intimate, so vulnerable—spurred me on.
I sucked on the nipple harder, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh just enough to draw another moan from her.
Her back arched, pressing her breast further into my mouth, and I obliged her unspoken plea, lavishing attention on her other nipple with equal dedication.
Her moans grew louder, filling the kitchen with the sounds of her pleasure.
Each one was a benediction.
A gift.
And I accepted them greedily.
My hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. The heat of her core pressed against me even through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
I groaned, the sound reverberating against her skin.
I kissed lower and trailed my lips down the soft curve of her belly, tasting more of the faint saltiness of her skin mingled with the sweetness that was uniquely hers.
Her breathing quickened.
Then, I knelt before her and slid my hands under her nightgown to grasp her thighs.
The fabric bunched up and showed me that she wore no panties.
My knees almost buckled.
Dear God.
I pulled back, looked down, and froze. I couldn’t see her pussy just yet. . .but soon I would, and I had no idea if I would be able to control myself.
Lust blazed in Celeste’s gaze.
I licked my lips. “You don’t have on any panties.”
She gave me a devilish smirk. “Perhaps, you should punish me for that, Father.”
Hot desire surged through me.
I was close to exploding.
Dear God. . .should I punish her?