Sinner
I watch as a blush spreads up Marisol’s slender neck, painting her cheeks a deep crimson. She smiles, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. “Maybe,” she replies, clutching her bag tighter to her chest. Her hair is half-up and half-down today, the coils framing her face perfectly. That white cotton dress clings to her small waist and modest bust, accentuating every curve. Her warm chocolate eyes are filled with both desire and amusement as I step away from the pew and move closer to her. I brush a stray curl from her face, feeling a surge of possessiveness. She’s sinfully beautiful and fucking mine.
“Tell me more about your book if you’re not here to confess any sins, pretty girl,” I murmur, my voice low, dripping with darker intent.
Her cheeks flush even deeper, the color contrasting vividly against her caramel skin. Her fingers grip the bag tightly, and I shudder, imagining them gripping me instead. “The nun falls for the priest,” she whispers, her eyes sparkling with the allure of forbidden knowledge. I almost laugh at the irony .
“Go on,” I urge, stepping closer, the proximity a delicious torment. Her gaze falters for a moment before meeting mine again with a hint of mischief.
“They both try to resist the pull, try not to sin,” she continues, her voice trembling. “But the lust wins. The nun… she gives in.” Her words hang in the air, charged with a raw, primal energy.
I can’t help but smile, leaning in closer, our breaths mingling. The intoxicating scent of cocoa and fresh linen surrounds me. “And how does the good sister handle such… complicated situation?”
Her breath hitches, her eyes darting away momentarily before returning to mine, filled with hesitation and desire. “She… she surrenders to her desires. They… they defile each other on the altar,” she breathes, her voice heavy with a sense of personal confession.
The thought of Marisol surrendering, her body beneath me, the sacred desecrated by our passion—it’s overwhelming. I step even closer, my voice a heated whisper. “On the altar? Is that what you want, Marisol? To be defiled under God’s watchful eye?”
Her eyes widen, and she shudders lightly as my words sink in. The weight of my question electrifies the space between us, a nearly palpable tension. I’m consumed by the thought of her completely in my control, a divine and sinful offering.
“That’s exactly what I want,” she murmurs, a wicked smirk playing at her lips. Her voice is a sultry promise, a challenge that pulls me further into the abyss of my own desire.
I can’t resist her any longer.
“Tell me, pretty girl,” I whisper, my voice raspy with the tension that coils tightly within me. “Is that what you want? To sin with me here, in His house?” My thumb brushes her lower lip, and she gasps softly .
“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “I want you, Matheo. I want us to sin together.” I press Marisol against the cold, hard surface of the church pews, our bodies flush with feverish intensity. The sacred surroundings, once a place of solemnity and restraint, now serve as the backdrop for our unholy passion. Her breath is ragged, mingling with mine in a symphony of need.
Her hands explore me with a fervor that matches my own. I feel her fingers tremble slightly, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her touch. My grip tightens on her hips, pulling her closer, as if trying to fuse us into one. Every touch, every kiss defies the sanctity of this place, a rebellion against everything this space was meant to represent.
Marisol’s moans are muffled against my lips as her body arches into mine with an urgency that drives me wild. I want to worship every inch of her, to make her feel the passion consuming me. My hands trace the line of her spine, finding their way to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Her lips are warm and soft, a tantalizing contrast to the cold surroundings.
Her desperation, her need for release, matches my own. I want to push us both to the edge of our desires and beyond. My hands roam lower, tracing the curve of her waist and slipping beneath the fabric of her dress. She shudders at my touch, her body responding eagerly.
Her moans grow louder, more insistent, as I continue to explore her. The only sounds in the silent church are our breaths and the rustling of fabric. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us in this moment of intense desire.
Finally, on the brink of madness, I pull back slightly, looking into her eyes with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “Tell me what you need,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. “Tell me how to make this moment everything you’ve dreamed of. ”
Marisol’s eyes meet mine, her expression a blend of raw need and intense longing. “Just be with me,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “Make me yours.”
And that I will.
“For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh,’” I murmur, my voice a low growl, the words a seductive prayer laced with the gravity of our sin. Her breath hitches, her eyes darkening with desire. She finishes the verse, her voice trembling with anticipation.
“… ‘And these are contrary one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would,’” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before our mouths collide in another desperate kiss. Her taste is sweet, sinful, and utterly addictive. Our tongues dance in a hungry rhythm, the heat radiating from her body, her soft curves pressing into me as I deepen the kiss. My hands slide down her sides, gripping her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
I pull back slightly, my forehead resting against hers, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming. “‘For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life…’” I breathe, feeling the tension coil even tighter within me.
Her response is a soft, breathless whisper against my lips, “‘Is not of the Father, but is of the world.’” The finality of her words drives us deeper into the sin we’re about to commit, the gravity of it fueling our desire instead of dampening it.
There’s no turning back now.
I push her dress higher, exposing the soft, smooth skin of her thighs. She arches into me, her fingers twisting in my hair, urging me on. I want her, need her, and damn the consequences.
“Are you sure about this?” I manage to ask, needing to hear her consent, needing to know she wants this as much as I do .
She doesn’t hesitate. Her hand slips between us, running down the bulge in my pants. “Take me, Father,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “For I am a creature of sin.”
Without another word, I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as I hold her close. She clings to me, her lips devouring mine in a desperate, heated kiss. As I carry her toward the altar, our breaths mingle, hearts pounding in unison. Her dress rides higher, revealing more of her, and I pull it up further as we walk.
When we reach the altar, I set her down gently, but with an urgency that matches the intensity between us. I keep kissing her, my lips moving over hers with fervor, my hands roaming over the warmth of her exposed skin. Her dress is bunched around her waist, panties pushed aside, and the sheer thrill of what we're about to do—of finally giving in to this desire—consumes me entirely.
With a quick, practiced motion, I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants, the sound of metal and fabric almost deafening in the quiet of the church. My hands tremble slightly as I push my pants down just enough to free myself, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat between us. Marisol watches me, her eyes dark with anticipation. I position myself at her entrance, the tip of me brushing against her warmth, and with one slow, deliberate motion, I slip into her. Her cunt swallows me whole, hot and tight—a perfect fit. It takes everything in me not to lose myself in her right then. She gasps, her back arching off the altar. I still for a moment, allowing us both time to adjust to the overwhelming sensation before I move again.
I drag my cock out slowly, looking down as I push back in, causing her to mewl. Marisol’s legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper, turning her soft sighs of pleasure into moans that echo in the silent church. Lowering my head, I use my teeth to pull down her dress, exposing her perky breast. My mouth descends on it immediately, my tongue circling her dark areola before latching onto her nipple as I thrust into her. Her moans intensify, and I feel her walls clamp around me .
The feeling of her tight heat surrounding me is overwhelming. We’re not naked—our clothes are just haphazardly pushed aside—but it doesn’t matter. The raw, urgent connection between us is all-consuming. The altar stands before us, a symbol of sanctity we’re about to defile, but right now, all that matters is the passion between us.
I feel her walls clench around me, her body trembling with pleasure as I unravel her, piece by piece. The light filtering through the stained-glass windows casts' colorful patterns on our entwined bodies as we surrender to our forbidden desires. “You are magnificent, bella, ” I moan, watching her take every inch of me so beautifully. My hand goes under her thigh, throwing it over my shoulder and spreading her wide for me, baring her entirely to my eager exploration. My thrusts are deeper this way, each motion drawing out whimpers and gasps from her sweet lips. I revel in each sound, each a testament to the pleasure I’m giving her, to the pleasure she’s giving me.
I’ll ruin her for anyone who comes after me, and I welcome that thought as I sink deeper into her. Marisol cries out my name—my real name. “Matheo.” Her walls tighten around me as I hit that spot inside her, drawing out sounds that push me closer to the edge. But this isn’t just about me; it’s about her. My thumb presses against her clit as her leg rests on my shoulder, her brows knitting together as I apply pressure. “Fuck,” she breathes, her voice trembling as I thrust inside her, my rhythm matching the circles I trace on her sensitive flesh.
I grip her hips, burying myself to the hilt, filling her completely. My hand slides to her throat, fingers curling gently around it as I feel her pulse race beneath my touch. “Do you want to see Heaven?” I ask, my voice a low growl. Her eyes flash with desire, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
“Only if you take me there, Matheo,” she replies, her voice hoarse with pleasure. I tighten my grip around her neck, my other hand working her clit relentlessly. “You breathe when I say you can. Let me show you God. ”
She nods, the grin never leaving her face, even as she gasps for breath. There’s trust in her eyes—trust that I’ll guide her through this, that I won’t let her fall over the edge without catching her first.
“You’re so beautiful when you surrender,” I whisper, tightening my grip as I thrust deeper, harder, driving us both to the brink. I don’t care who hears, who sees. All that matters is the way she’s falling apart under my touch.
“Matheo,” she gasps, her back arching as her climax crashes over her. She’s so close to losing herself, on the verge of passing out, but she clings desperately to consciousness, not wanting to miss a second of the pleasure rippling through her body. Her hips buck wildly against mine, riding out every wave of ecstasy.
I bite into her ankle, growling, “Breathe,” as I unleash my own pleasure, releasing my grip on her throat moving down. I hold on to her hips tightly to keep her steady. Her eyes flutter open as she takes a deep, gasping breath—the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. "You're so fucking perfect," I gasp, the throbbing rush in my body reaching its peak.
I hope she’s on birth control, because there’s no stopping me from coming inside her as my thrusts grow erratic. Our moans mingle, filling the sacred space with our shared pleasure. I release her throat, pressing my lips to hers, swallowing her cries as she quakes beneath me. Her pussy milks me mercilessly, drawing my orgasm out as I explode inside her. I smile, gazing at her radiant face, still glowing in the aftermath of our shared release. Her lips, swollen from my kisses, curve into a satisfied smile, her eyes glazed with the remnants of pleasure. I stay inside her a moment longer, savoring the way she pulses around me.
How could something so right be forbidden? One thing is certain—this woman is mine.
I pull out slowly, offering her my hand to help her up. But the happiness on her face begins to fade as she glances around, searching for the monster that might drag her back to her hell. She hurriedly fixes her dress, and I tuck myself back into my pants, watching as the weight of our sins settles back onto her shoulders. Her voice breaks the silence, soft and trembling.
“Matheo,” she whispers, her eyes darting nervously around the church. “We need to be careful. There’s a chance someone might come in.” I turn to face her as she stands from the altar, my arms wrap around her, pulling her closer. “I know,” I murmur, on her hair as I rub her back trying to soothe her. “But right now, all I care about is you.”
Marisol meets my gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and desperate longing. “I can’t stay here,” she says, her voice trembling. “If I get caught with you under these conditions, it could be disastrous.”
I study her face, seeing the genuine concern etched in her features. “What are you so afraid of?” I ask softly. “Don’t be scared. I’m not.”
“You should be,” she breathes, her lips brushing against chest. “But if you knew any better you would stay far… very far away from me. But I can’t stop thinking of you. That scares me.”
“I feel the same way,” I reply, my voice steady. “Stop being so afraid. I’m more of a devil than a saint.”
Her gaze locks with mine, raw need and vulnerability in her eyes. “I’ve never felt this before. I need this, need you.”
I nod, feeling her need resonate with my own. “Then don’t be afraid,” I say firmly, my voice laced with a fierce intensity. “I’d burn this whole town down before I let anything happen to you.”
Her eyes widen, and I can see the flicker of doubt in her expression, perhaps thinking I’m exaggerating. But she doesn’t know that I meant every word. I would unleash hell on this town if it meant freeing her from this place. Her safety and our time together mean everything to me .
“I’m not just saying that,” I continue, my voice low and filled with a burning resolve. “I’d tear the world apart to keep you safe. You’re mine now, and I mean that.”
Marisol’s gaze softens as she takes in the depth of my words. “I need you to mean that,” she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly.
“I do,” I assure her, my hand tightening around her. “No matter what it takes, I’ll make sure nothing and no one harms you. I’ll burn down everything that dares to threaten us.”