18. The Flame Consumes
Chapter eighteen
The Flame Consumes
The silence between us thickened, pulsing with unspoken desire, like the charged air before a storm that promised to destroy everything in its path.
My breaths came shallow and uneven, each one heavier than the last, as her soft, teasing command seared itself into my very soul.
"Show me your cock."
I hesitated, trembling on the precipice of even more damnation.
Granted, the weight of my vows were now a distant echo compared to the crushing force of my longing for her.
My heart thundered in my chest as I stared down at her through the thin lattice of the confessional.
The confessional that once cradled my soul now burdened it, feeling like a gilded tomb.
An ornate cage.
And I was the restless, horny beast within, prowling, starving, desperate to taste erotic freedom.
And she was the key, gleaming like forbidden gold in the dim light.
God help me, I wanted her to unlock me.
Off in the distance, the faint sounds of the cathedral filtered through the confessional walls—the soft shuffle of footsteps, the distant movement of the few nuns who were always eager to finish quickly and return early to prepare for evening prayer.
What if they figure out what we are doing? What if they hear?
The thought sent a chill down my spine, but it didn’t stop me.
It only fueled the fire.
The risk, the danger, the razor-thin line I was walking—it made every nerve in my body burn hotter with yearning.
I rose from my seat, towering over her, my shadow swallowing her delicate form.
Celeste didn’t flinch or falter. Instead, she lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. It wasn’t fear that I saw in her expression—it was utter desire.
And even more. . .she looked at me as if I were God Himself.
And in that moment, I wanted to be the god she worshipped, the altar she prayed at, the sacrament she consumed.
Lord, hear me in this moment of torment and ecstasy.
My trembling fingers moved to the buttons of my cassock.
You who made her, shaped her beauty with Your divine hand.
One by one, I unfastened the buttons. Each one slipped through its loop with an audible pop, sounding like the ticking of a clock counting down to my undoing.
You made her body a heavenly garden locked away, and that garden calls to me. Its fragrance is too intoxicating, and all of its fruit are ripe for the taking.
Cool air kissed my skin as the front of the cassock opened, exposing the hard lines of my muscular chest and the rigid length of my cock straining beneath the thin fabric of my trousers.
Her sharp intake of breath was the only sound that mattered.
It made me pause, and kept my hands hovering over the last button, trembling as though they awaited her command.
Her voice was soft, trembling, and without a doubt coated in hunger. “Father. . .”
“Yes, my child.”
“T-take it off. . .completely.”
I quirked my brows.
“I want to see your chest. . .your arms. . .”
How could I not obey her?
With one final tug, the last button slipped free.
I shrugged the cassock off my shoulders, and it fell down my body in a slow cascade of black fabric, until finally pooling at my feet with a soft whisper against the cold stone floor.
She bit her bottom lip.
I stood there, exposed, stripped of my holy armor.
The flickering shadows and pale streams of light in the confessional danced across my bare skin, highlighting the contours of muscle on my chest, the ridges of my stomach, and the dark trail leading down to where my cock strained painfully against the thin fabric of my pants.
Her eyes devoured me.
Though she remained kneeling, her gaze roamed over my body with the reverence of a pilgrim gazing upon a holy relic.
Mmmm.
In fact, her hands twitched at her sides, as though she was desperately resisting the urge to reach out and touch me, to feel the heat of my skin beneath her fingers.
Her lips parted. “You. . .are divine. I want you so bad, Father Cassian. So fucking bad. . .”
The words struck me like lightning, a blinding, searing truth I couldn’t deny.
She was still kneeling, still gazing up at me as though I were the Savior she had been searching for all her life. Her eyes lingered on my chest, sliding down to the taut muscles of my abdomen, and finally settling on the rigid outline of my cock.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and any little bit of resolve I had. . .completely shattered.
I stepped closer to the lattice and my shadow enveloped her fully.
“Celeste. . .”
“Yes.”
“Now. . .I am no longer Father Cassian, no longer a man bound by vows and oaths. . .”
She widened her eyes.
“I am simply yours.”
Her bottom lip quivered.
My fingers trembled as I unfastened the top button of my pants, and then the metallic rasp of the zipper cut through the charged silence like a blade.
In the background, there were more faint murmurs of the cathedral staff preparing for evening prayer filtering through the confessional walls—soft footsteps echoing on the stone floors, the rustling of robes, the distant clink of candlesticks being set upon the altar, the thumping of hymnals being set in their places.
And what was even more wicked, the sounds of the staff’s devotion in the holy space only deepened the sinful tension coiled tight between us.
Yet, I still felt the need to say one more thing to God, hoping he understood.
You wrote of love in the Song of Songs, of bodies entwined like the vines of a vineyard, of a lover’s embrace sweeter than the finest wine.
Slowly, I slid my trousers down, letting them pool around my ankles, leaving me in nothing but my underwear, my cock straining against the thin fabric.
I am drunk now, Lord—not on Your spirit, but on the vision of her.
Celeste's hungry gaze traced the thick outline of my arousal. “Too slow. You’re killing me over here. . .show me, Father.”
I pulled my boxer briefs down and my cock sprang free, heavy and aching, its need too great to contain any longer.
Her breath hitched audibly, and her eyes widened as they locked onto me through the lattice.
And now I believe that her touch will be my salvation and her lips the altar at which I long to kneel.
My cock stood as hard and unyielding as stone.
A pillar of flesh and sin.
And it pointed directly toward that forbidden, divine glory hole—that sinful, corrupt gateway.
The confessional’s small streams of light showed Celeste every rigid vein, every glistening curve of my cock.
And then a bead of pre-cum formed at the swollen tip.
Glistening like a drop of liquid moonlight.
It clung to the tip of my cock.
Suspended.
Quivering.
Pearlescent and trembling.
Then, slowly, it swelled, threatening to fall, and when that pre-cum finally broke free, the carnal drop trailed down the ridge of my cock, leaving a shimmering path of temptation along the flushed, straining length before falling silently to the marble floor like a sinful offering.
Celeste licked her lips.
Lord, I burn, as Your prophets once burned, but not with holy fire—with desire that consumes and unravels me.
Lustful heat pooled low in my stomach, spreading through me like wildfire.
If this is my test, then I have failed.
My chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.
If this is my fall, then let me fall willingly into her arms, into her garden, into the depths of her love.
Another bead of pre-cum formed at my cock’s tip.
For though I betray You, I feel closer to heaven in her presence than ever before.
The pre-cum slid down my sensitive length before dropping onto the confessional floor. This time a faint, wet sound came as it hit the marble.
“Father. . .you’re. . .big. . .very, very big. . .”
Am I?
My cock pulsed, straining harder, and my vision blurred from the intensity of my need.
The confessional hummed with blasphemous energy while the faint sound of more nuns’ footsteps outside only sharpened the moment’s wickedness.
“Do you see what you’ve done to me?” I looked down at her. “This. . .is your creation, Celeste.”
Her lips curled into the faintest wicked smile. “Good. Because I’ve never seen anything so perfect.”
She shifted closer to the lattice until her face was mere inches from the glory hole. “Let me taste you, Father. Let me worship you like you worshiped me earlier in my house.”
And in that moment, I knew the flames of her touch would turn me into the ashes of everything I had once held sacred.
“Come here.”
I shivered.
Her words were fire to my already scorching desire. My hand wrapped around the base of my cock, and I stepped forward, the tip brushing against the edge of the lattice. The heat of her breath ghosted over me as she leaned closer until now her face was just an inch away.
“You want this, Celeste?” I struggled with holding in a dark grown. “You want to worship my cock?”
“Yes.” Her gaze met mine through the thin barrier. “Please. . .put it through the hole.”
Mmmm.
Slowly, I let go of my cock and pushed the head through the hole, the action feeling like both a surrender and a claim. And the lattice creaked under my grip as I braced myself, the sacred divider now complicit in my descent.
Cool air kissed the heated flesh of my cock.
Her lips hovered just above the tip.
Her warm breath washed over me in tantalizing waves.
Another fresh bead of pre-cum formed at the tip, pearlescent and trembling, catching the dim light like a forbidden jewel.
It clung there for a moment, defying gravity, before swelling just enough to slide down the flushed, velvety head, leaving a slick, glistening trail in its wake.
My cock throbbed at the thought of her.
And then it happened.
Right before that pearl liquid could drop to the floor, she darted her tongue and swiped up the trembling bead.
A dark groan left me.
Dear God!
She didn’t stop there. Her tongue lingered, curling around the ridge of the head with delicate precision, as though she were tasting the essence of my very soul.
My hips bucked up involuntarily, pressing forward, seeking more of her mouth, and another ragged groan ripped from my throat.
Low and guttural.
Her lips parted slightly, and I could see her tongue retreat into her mouth, savoring the drop she had stolen from me.
Oh. My. God. Her tongue is so wet and soft.
She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, and her expression was one of pure bliss.
She is my Goddess. I bow to her.
When she opened those eyes, they were darker, hungrier. Her gaze locked on mine through the lattice.
"Let me show you how a woman worships, Father." Those sensual words slid over me like silk, slithering into my senses and pulling a ragged groan from me.
Tremors of anticipation wracked my body as I waited for the next torment.
Looking down at her with my cock through that divine hole, I stood frozen, caught in a spell of awe and shock.
The confessional—once a place of sanctity—now became a stage for the most forbidden of acts.
Little by little, she parted her mouth, her lips trembling as though she were hesitant, yet eager. They looked so soft, so warm and inviting.
My cock twitched in response.
“Do you want this, Father?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do, Father Cassian?”
My voice came out raw and shaking. “I want you to. . . suck my cock.”
Her breath hitched, and her eyes lifted to meet mine through the lattice for a brief, devastating moment. Then, lowering her face to the tip, she stretched her lush, velvety lips around the swollen head.
Dear God.
The warmth of her mouth engulfing me like a holy fire, and the sight alone nearly undid me. The way her lips molded to my cock, her tongue moving in languid, teasing strokes against the sensitive ridge—it was unbearable, unholy, perfect.
Her eyes fluttered shut, as though she were lost in prayer, the act more reverent than I had dared imagine.
And then, she suckled the mushroomed tip gently, milking my cock as her tongue flicked over the rim.
My legs trembled, my knees threatened to buckle, and I stifled a moan so intense that it clawed at my throat.
Dear God. How will I be able to keep quiet enough so the nuns don’t hear me?
My fingertips dug into the lattice to keep myself upright.
The sensation of her mouth was electric. Wet heated pleasure that tore through me, leaving me breathless.
It felt so good, so impossibly good, that for a moment I considered tearing the divider away, breaking every barrier between us just to feel more of her mouth.
But I didn’t have to.
She began to move, sliding that wicked mouth all the way down my cock, her tongue tracing every ridge, every vein, as though mapping me with her mouth.
The fire burning deep within me roared to life.
She wasn’t merely sucking me off—she was adoring me, worshipping me with a devotion that stripped me bare of anything holy left in my soul.
A guttural groan tore from my throat.
If the nuns heard, then so be it because her response was immediate. She took me deeper, and slid her lips further down my shaft until I could feel the constriction of her throat around me.
Oh God. This is heaven. This is everything.
Never in my life had anyone taken my cock into their mouth, and the sensation was unlike anything I had ever imagined.
It was a bliss so profound, so overwhelming, so euphoric, that it stole every coherent thought from my mind. The heat of her mouth, the slick glide of her tongue, the gentle but insistent pull of her lips—all of it combined into an intense earth-shattering pleasure that defied anything I had ever known.
It was a joy that I had never found anywhere, not in prayer, not in the quiet solitude of my vows, not in the hollow comforts of faith.
This wasn’t just physical—it was soul-deep, a revelation in its own right.
Inch by agonizing inch, she enveloped me, her wet, sinful heated mouth unbearable in its perfection.
“Oh.” My hips jerked involuntarily, pushing me deeper into her mouth, and she didn’t flinch.
Instead, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of my cock, teasing and tormenting with expert precision.
I watched her own me.
Blessed be to God, she’s so good.
She pulled back just enough to let my cock slip from her lips with a soft, wet pop.
Saliva spilled from her lips and dripped down her chin.
I didn’t even know my mouth was wide open, but it was as I stared at her utterly stunned.
“Do you like that, Father?”
“Y-yes.”
“Do you want more?”
“P-please, suck me more.”
Before I could say anything else, she took me back into her mouth and raised her hands to my cock, wrapping her fingers around the base.
What is she doing now?
A jolt of heat shot straight to my core.
Her grip on my cock wasn’t hesitant; it was confident, assured, as if she knew damned well that she was claiming me completely in that single touch.
The warmth of her palms against my heated skin was mesmerizing.
While still sucking on the tip, she began to stroke my cock. Her hand glided smoothly over my length, matching the rhythm of her mouth with maddening synchronicity.
There will never be anything but her. Not another woman. Not a vow. Not even God.
Her lips stretched further around me, her mouth working in a slow, deliberate cadence, her tongue tracing every ridge and vein with a devotion that was all worship.
It all pulled me closer to the edge, unraveling me second by second.
My hips jerked slightly forward, desperate for more of the pleasure she so expertly delivered.
A low, throaty moan escaped her, muffled by the fullness of my cock in her mouth, and the vibration of it sent a shockwave through my body.
A loud grunt left me.
Outside the confessional, a deep, resonant hum filled the air as the organ player began to press a few keys, testing the sound.
The first notes were low, almost hesitant, as if the organ itself were waking from slumber.
The player tuned the pipes.
Short bursts of sound came.
Some notes wavered.
Then came a higher tone, sharp and piercing.
But all I could truly hear was the wet, obscene sounds of Celeste sucking me off in the confessional.
It was lewd slurps echoing in the small, sacred space.
“Yes. Yes.” I gripped the lattice so tightly that it creaked beneath my fingers. “God, yes.”
My chest heaved with short breaths.
Her pace quickened and her hand squeezed gently at the base.
And then there was the danger of it all—the possibility of being discovered, the knowledge that the nuns were just outside the confessional, preparing for evening prayer, even Sister Margaretta would be there.
That didn’t scare me, it only heightened the intensity.
Let them catch me. Let them all see me cum.
She moaned again, the sound vibrating through me, and my legs trembled as the heat coiled tighter in my core.
The line between ecstasy and agony blurred, and I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.
The heat.
The wetness.
The unrelenting suction.
It was all too much.
“You’re perfect,” I groaned, my voice breaking as I fought to hold onto the last shred of control. “So perfect, Celeste. . .I can’t. . .”
She hummed in pleasure, and the vibrations rippled around my cock making my legs quake.
My breaths came in harsh gasps, each one laced with a moan as she drove me closer to the edge. I could feel her tongue pressing against the underside of my cock, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
“Oh God,” I groaned, the word slipping out before I could stop it. It felt sacrilegious, blasphemous, and yet I didn’t care.
All I cared about was her, the way she made me feel, the way she unraveled me piece by piece.
The tension in the confessional had reached a fever pitch, a swirling storm of desire, guilt, and surrender that left me trembling.
“Celeste,” I groaned, her name slipping past my lips like a prayer, though I knew no prayer had ever held this much longing, this much need.
Her gaze flicked up to meet mine through the lattice, and in her eyes, I saw the reflection of my own undoing. The heat, the hunger—they mirrored my own, unrestrained and relentless.
My body shuddered, the heat pooling low in my core now a molten force surging through me.
Outside the confessional, the organ hummed again.
“Celeste, I—I can’t hold—” My voice cracked, my chest heaved with each desperate breath.
Oh!!
My head fell back, and my vision blurred as the intensity overwhelmed me.
God!!
When it happened, it was like nothing I had ever known. Every nerve in my body grew overloaded. My skin prickled and tingled. It was a release so enormously intense that it tore through me, obliterating every cell in my body.
I shuddered violently, trembling from the force.
A heart-pounding crescendo of pleasure and unbearable ecstasy.
And she didn’t falter.
Her lips remained sealed around my cock, her tongue moving in a sinful dance, teasing me, coaxing me, prolonging the exquisite agony of my release.
I came hard into her mouth.
And it was so much.
An ungodly amount.
Jet after jet of hot, white cum surged from the tip of my cock, spilling into her eager mouth.
She widened her eyes probably just as shocked as me, yet her throat worked furiously as she quickly swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed each load again and again, desperately chugging it down and not letting a single drop go to waste.
“Oh. Oh.” I groaned, jerking my hips forward and thrusting my cock deeper into her mouth.
All that cum spilling down her throat.
The obscene wet sounds of her mouth filled the space.
And still, I kept coming.
I flicked my hips up again, and another hot, thick jet of my release shot down her throat.
She choked briefly.
It was a strangled sound escaping her, but she didn’t let go. Her devotion to my cock was absolute.
Oh God I can’t stop!
My cock pulsed violently in her mouth, and another torrent spilled from me.
Cum began to drip from the corners of her lips as she struggled to keep up.
Then, more trailed down her chin, falling to the floor with a soft, obscene splatter.
She moaned low in her throat, the sound vibrating against me, drawing another ragged groan from my lips.
“God. Celeste.” Finally, I pulled my cock out of her, stumbling back and yanking my cock away with me.
More cum spilled, but this time it dripped on my side.
I leaned against the confessional door, devasted.
Unsure of everything and nothing at all.
And in that moment, I realized something devastatingly clear—she owned me now, body and soul.