12. A Baptism of Lust
Chapter twelve
A Baptism of Lust
Cassian
She spread her legs wider—a clear invitation that I could not resist.
My eyes greedily drank in the sight of her exposed pussy, glistening with arousal and begging for attention.
Dear God. What a heavenly creation.
It was a mesmerizing sight of plump, swollen lips glistening with arousal and framed by a neat patch of black hair.
Heat surged through me, radiating from deep within and igniting every nerve like a wildfire consuming a barren field.
It wasn’t just warmth—it was an unholy blaze.
Relentless.
All-consuming.
Pulling me deeper into temptation.
Beckoning.
In fact, those succulent folds reminded me of David watching Bathsheba bathe under the moonlight.
He’d been so powerless to look away, and as water dripped down Bathsheba’s naked body, his righteousness crumbled.
I licked my lips, just like Samson must have when faced with Delilah, knowing she was his undoing but craving her touch more than his own salvation.
I leaned forward to get a better look, and I was Adam in the garden, reaching for the forbidden fruit with trembling hands, fully aware of the fall that awaited.
My heart thundered.
She parted her lips. “Do you like the sight, Father?”
“This is the sort of vision that would turn angels into demons.”
A wicked chuckle left her.
Her pussy yearned to be touched.
Caressed.
Savored.
I swallowed. “Such divine artistry in creation.”
She parted her lips.
“You are the perfect forbidden fruit.”
My hands trembled as I reached out further, unsure if my fingers were worthy to touch her.
But the pull was too great.
The fire too consuming.
Soon, my fingers hovered inches from her heat. The air between us felt electric, as if Heaven and Hell were at war, battling for my soul in the moment before contact.
The scent of her arousal hit me, warm and intoxicating, and it sent a shiver down my spine. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before—heady, primal, and maddeningly sweet.
“I know this is wrong,” I muttered, though the words held no conviction.
Her voice was a velvet caress. “Then don’t think about it, Father. Just touch it.”
And I did.
When my fingertips finally brushed against her, I nearly groaned at the softness.
Her pussy was warm and slick with arousal, a texture I had no words for.
Oh, sweet mercy.
My thumb glided over the delicate folds, tracing the outer edges in slow, reverent strokes.
A faint gasp escaping her lips.
I explored more.
The wetness clung to my fingertips.
My cock throbbed in response, straining painfully against my slacks.
Her breath hitched, as she shifted her hips toward my hand, seeking more of my touch.
I slipped my fingers through the glistening arousal pooling at her entrance, marveling at how responsive she was.
She likes this.
The faint, intoxicating sweetness rising from her pussy made me think of the Psalms that spoke of honey dripping from the comb, of manna gifted to the faithful.
Yet, her allure was no mere sustenance—it was a sacrament, a divine offering to undo me.
How can something so pure, so achingly beautiful, exist in a world filled with sin?
I could not look away. “You are a. . .living scripture of passion I can neither understand nor resist.”
“And you. . .keep leaving me. . .at a loss for words.”
“What would you need to say?” I licked my lips. “Your existence is enough.”
Again, I brushed my fingers along those tender folds.
“Oh, Father.”
I groaned.
“I love how you play with my pussy.”
I groaned some more.
Is that what I am doing? Playing with it? Mmmm. I like this game.
She was wet, so incredibly wet. My fingers explored her even more, touching her with a delicacy I’d only reserved for sacred texts.
Yet there was nothing delicate about the way she shook beneath my touch, quaking with horny anticipation.
“Yes, Father. Just like that.” Her hips pushed forward uncontrollably as my fingers probed deeper.
I had no experience in this, but from her reaction I knew I was doing something right.
Every slight movement seemed to set off miniature tremors across her body.
I felt a surge of power and thrill at being the cause of such reaction.
She lifted her view to me. “Lick your fingers.”
I raised my eyebrows and looked down at them. “I would like that.”
Without hesitation, I raised my hand to my face, trembling slightly.
My fingers glistened with her wetness.
The sight alone was enough to make my cock throb painfully some more.
And the temptation—oh, the temptation—was unbearable.
Blessed Mother, please look away.
Slowly, deliberately, I brought my fingers to my lips.
I brought my fingers to my mouth and gently licked the tip of one finger.
Oh yes.
Her taste was euphoric.
Unable to help myself, I closed my eyes and dragged my tongue over the length of my finger, savoring every drop.
She gasped.
A groan escaped me.
I opened my eyes. “You are very wicked.”
“Sometimes being wicked feels so good.”
My heart pounded against my chest so fiercely I was sure it would burst through my ribcage.
“How do I taste, Father?”
“Like Heaven and Hell colliding on my tongue.” My eyes flicked back to her pussy and then returned to her face. “Yet. . .I still don’t feel like I’ve truly tasted you.”
“That’s because. . .” She licked those lips again. “You haven’t truly tasted me at all. Just your fingers. . .”
“Then, I would need to. . .”
Her words came out breathless. “Put your face all in this pussy, Father. That’s what you would need to do.”
This sensual darkness poured over me.
I scowled at her. “It appears you are not going to help me control myself.”
That wicked grin returned. “I want you to lose control.”
“If I lower and put my face there. . .”
She quirked her brows.
“Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
“That’s the point, Father. Maybe I won’t want you to stop.” she replied softly, her gaze locking with mine. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only a wicked gleam that made my cock twitch painfully against my slacks. “Maybe I want you to lick all over my pussy and ruin me, Father.”
Oh, sweet mercy.
My hands trembled as I rested them on her thighs.
“I’ve never done this before.” My voice grew rough with need. “I don’t even know if I’ll do it right.”
“You’ll do just fine. You already make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”
I groaned at her words. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Then die right here.” She spread those thighs even wider than before. “Die between my legs, Father.”
The heat radiating from her drew me in like a moth to a flame.
And her words were the final blow to my fragile restraint.
I lowered my head, until my lips were mere inches from her, and paused. “Your pussy is so beautiful.”
With that, I pressed my lips to her most intimate place.
Instantly, the taste of her exploded on my tongue—sweet, salty, and utterly intoxicating. A low groan rumbled in my chest as I licked her again, this time more deliberately, letting my tongue glide over her folds and savoring every drop of her arousal.
“Oh, God!” she moaned. “Yes. . . just like that.”
Her reaction spurred me on, and I pressed my tongue deeper, exploring her with an eager hunger that surprised even me. I found her clit, swollen and sensitive, and circled it with my tongue, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.
Her hands tightened in my hair, pulling me closer as her thighs trembled around my head. “Don’t stop. Please, Father, don’t stop.”
I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to.
Her taste.
Her sounds.
The way her body writhed beneath me.
It was all-consuming, drowning out every thought except the need to give her more.
I flicked my tongue against her clit, then sucked gently, eliciting a cry that sent a jolt of heat straight to my cock.
Mmmm.
Her praise made my chest swell.
I wanted to give her everything, to hear her cry out my name until it was the only word she could remember. I slipped my tongue within her wet hole, pushing it deeper and trying to taste her very core.
She groaned and clenched her walls around my tongue.
Dear God. How did she do that?
“Don’t stop. . .please, don’t stop.”
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I devoured her like a man starved, pulling my tongue out of her pussy to work her clit with relentless laps.
“Oh. Oh.”
Yes. She likes that. I’ll do it more and more.
Her hips bucked wildly, and I held her down.
Yes. This is everything and more.
Then, I returned to that soaking wet hole, delving my tongue deeper, back into her sacred core.
This is a forbidden paradise.
Her taste was intoxicating, her scent filling my senses.
I moved my tongue in slow, languid strokes, savoring each tremble that rippled through her body.
The velvety heat of her arousal coated my tongue as I pressed deeper, her slickness clinging to me like molten silk, sending a pulse of lust straight to my cock.
And I thought I’d savor her, take my time—but her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer, her hips grinding against my face as if demanding her own salvation.
The more I tasted, the deeper I wanted to explore, the more I wanted to lose myself in this decadent feast.
"Cassian!" She cried out, and her hands tangled in my hair as she rocked against me. “Yes, Father. You nasty, nasty man. God, yes!”
The way she held me. . .her fingers tangling in my hair as though I was her lifeline, her anchor, made me realize she wasn’t just surrendering to me—she was trusting me with every piece of herself.
“Oh, Father Cassian!!” Then, to my shock, she clamped her thighs around my head and bucked her hips off the counter.
Oh good. She definitely loves it!
Each soft, shuddering spasm of her body felt like a symphony against my lips, urging me to push her higher, to unravel her completely
My body responded to her touch. My cock ached.
It was so stiff it felt like it might snap.
Precum leaked from the tip.
I continued my exploration, not missing a beat.
My body hummed with need, yet I worked hard to draw out every ounce of pleasure she had to offer.
Her soft whimpers escalated into needy cries as she squirmed in ecstasy.
Her body writhed against me, wild and untamed, a storm of pleasure that begged to be unleashed, and I was more than willing to be the lightning that struck her again and again.
My tongue continued its relentless assault.
"Father Cassian!" She screamed my name again, breathless and desperate.
It was so dirty and wicked for her to be so formal in a moment like that, yet more precum spilled from the tip.
You call me Father, but it’s you who commands me, isn’t it?
“Oh fuck! There we go!” Her legs quaked around me and her back arched off the counter, pushing against me with force as an earth-shattering orgasm must have begun to rip through her.
“Oh! Oh!” Her cries echoed through the kitchen as waves of intense pleasure washed over her.
She’s cumming. Yes. I like this a lot. I want to make her cum again and again.
I held onto her thighs more tightly, not letting up until she was writhing and crying out my name in utter abandon.
“Oh. Oh. Oh.” That word fell from her lips in a sinful mantra.
And then the oddest, yet beautiful thing happened—a sudden, violent wet release shot out from her pussy and drenched my face and hands in a warm, wet torrent.
What is this?
For a moment, I froze, stunned by the raw, unbridled power of her body.
Her essence spilled over me, soaking my skin, and my cock throbbed in response, harder and more painfully than ever before.
“Fuck!” Her body arched violently, and her hands clawed at the countertop for something—anything—to anchor herself as a guttural scream tore from her throat. “Oh!”
And then it happened again, that sudden, unstoppable surge.
Another jet of her release spilled over me—hot and fierce—drenching my face and chest in her essence.
I froze, stunned and mesmerized, as her body betrayed her control, surrendering fully to the intensity coursing through her.
The sound of it—wet, shameless, primal—echoed in the room.
Dripping with her, I stayed there and parted my lips, catching some of it on my tongue. This taste was different.
More bitter.
More raw.
Like something unfiltered and feral.
And I knew without a doubt that it wasn’t just from her body—it was from her soul, pouring out of her, baptizing me in a way no holy water ever could.
How did that happen? And how can I make her do that again?
I pulled back slightly, staring at her, watching as her body trembled with aftershocks.
Her skin glistened with sweat; her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.
The sight of her—so wild, so undone—was the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed. And the evidence of her pleasure was all over me, dripping from my chin, my cheeks, my lips.
I had no idea. . .women did this too? I have so much. . .to learn. . .
“Oh my God,” She looked at my dripping wet face and widened her eyes in disbelief. “I. . .didn’t know I could even. . .do that.”
“Neither did I.” I wiped at my chin and cheeks. “The female body is amazing.”
I was drenched in her, the scent and taste of her clinging to me.
Intoxicating and maddening.
I may never take a shower.
She panted, still trying to catch her breath.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, only to pause as I felt her slickness on my skin.
What a beautiful creation.
I stared at the liquid for a moment, then brought my fingers to my lips, lapping at it.
Mmmm.
The taste sent a shiver down my spine.
Yes. She’s baptized me in her lust, and all I want is to drown in her, consumed by every sinful drop.
For the first time ever, I felt truly alive.
Her breath hitched as she watched me.
When Hell’s flames finally come for me, I’ll remember the taste of her and go willingly.
I lapped at my hand, gathering more of it on my tongue.
She bit her bottom lip.
And then, someone knocked on the door.
No.
She blinked. “What the hell? It’s too late for anyone to be visiting.”