Chapter 12 - Gabriel #2
"You confessed your darkest sins," I say, unbuckling my belt. The sound of leather snapping is violent in the quiet church. "Now comes the penance."
"Here?" she squeaks.
"The only god here is me," I say, shoving my pants down enough to free my cock. "And if there’s another, he knows better than to intervene."
Crowding into the booth with her is necessary. The space is too small, forcing us to press together, skin to skin, heat to heat.
"Stand up and turn around," I growl.
She scrambles to obey, getting to her feet and turning her back. She leans forward, bracing her hands on the little shelf where the Bible sits.
My hands hike her dress up.
She’s bare underneath and I inhale, breathing in the scent of what I do to her. The way I own her body.
"Look how ready you are for me," I praise, running a hand over her ass.
The confession worked better than any foreplay.
My hands grip her hips and I drive into her.
She screams as I bottom out.
It echoes through the church, a sound of pure, unadulterated blasphemy.
"Quiet," I bite out, leaning down to cover her mouth with my hand as I push an extra inch to make sure I can’t get any further inside of her. She goes up on her toes. "Unless you want the nuns to hear."
She bites my palm, muffling her moans as I pound into her.
This is dirty. Wrong. The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done.
Taking my son’s girlfriend in a confession booth while she admits she fantasized about me the whole time feeds the monster in my chest in a way nothing else ever has.
He demands complete ownership over her, starting with her body and ending with her soul.
"You belong to me," I whisper against her ear, thrusting deep. "Not some invisible god. Not Ryder. Me."
"Yes," she cries into my hand.
"Who owns your soul?"
"You do."
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You."
I let go of my hold on her mouth to rub her clit while I grind my dick into her. For one heartbeat, I wonder if she’s already pregnant with my baby or if this will be the time that does it.
But then I hit the right rhythm and the right spot. Blair unravels. Clamping down on me, shaking, her body bows against the wood.
My hand leaves her clit to grip her hair, pulling her head back onto my shoulder.
"Look at the cross," I snarl, nodding toward the crucifix hanging dimly on the opposite wall through the open curtain. "Tell him you don’t need his forgiveness because you only need mine."
"I—" she sobs, shattering all over again, one orgasm rolling into the next.
And this time, my own release hits me hard, emptying myself deep inside her, right up against her womb. Rage, obsession, cum—it all pours into her. Marking her soul as mine in a way that’ll never be undone.
We stay there, pinned against the wood, until the thundering in my chest slows.
I pull out of her slowly because I don’t want to leave.
Blair whimpers and then collapses forward, resting her forehead on the shelf, gasping for air.
I tuck myself away, fixing my clothes. Looking down at her reveals a beautiful mess. Disheveled. Ruined. Her soul is stained with me.
"Come on," I say, offering a hand.
She takes it, legs wobbling as she turns. She smooths her dress, but the flush on her chest and the swollen look of her lower lip where she’s bitten it are impossible to hide.
We step out of the booth.
"Gabriel," a voice says from the shadows near the altar.
Blair jumps, gripping my arm.
I don't flinch, though, because I know who it is.
Xander leans against a stone pillar, dressed in his cassock. A lit cigarette glows in the dark and his mismatched eyes ignite in the ember of it as he inhales. He’s wearing a terrifying, unhinged sort of grin on his face.
"Xander," I greet him. His eyes flick to Blair and his head tilts to the side. She starts wiping at her cheeks, trying to look more presentable but it’s a lost cause.
He pushes off the pillar, walking toward us. He’s younger than me, but he’s got the eyes of a demon. One of the Savage Six, and the only priest who carries any number of weapons under his vestments.
He stops a few feet away, gaze sliding over Blair. He takes in the messy hair, the flush on her skin, the way she clings to me.
He smirks.
"I'd offer to hear your confession," Xander says, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke toward the vaulted ceiling. "But I don’t think you're actually sorry for whatever you just did in my booth."
"Your booth?" I ask.
"God's booth," Xander corrects with a sneer and a glare at the sky.
Blair stares at him, wide-eyed. "You're... you're a priest?"
"I know, right," Xander says. He flicks ash onto the stone floor. "Don't worry. The acoustics in that booth are excellent. I barely heard a thing. Well, except for that finish. I think even the devil himself heard that."
He winks and I feel Blair shiver against me.
"We're leaving," I say, steering Blair toward the exit.
"You sure you don’t want a round two?" Xander calls after us. "There’s a whole altar here for you to desecrate. And I won’t even record it."
The door slams on his cackle as we step out into the night. Our breath puffs out in clouds in front of us, but neither of us says anything until we’re in the car and already on our way home.
"I can’t believe that guy’s a priest. I mean, what the fuck,” she says, her voice high.
"That was Xander," I say, merging onto the main road. "He’s... one of the Savage Six."
"He was listening to us have sex."
"I’d bet a million dollars he’s done worse than that today." A lot worse.
"I don’t think I want to know," she mutters, leaning her head back against the seat.
"You're starting to understand," I say.
My hand reaches over to take hers. She interlaces her fingers with mine. Her palm is warm.
The drive back across the mountain to our home on Crescent lake happens in silence, but not the heavy silence of before. The air’s lighter now.
She confessed her sins.
Instead of absolving them, I took them. I’ll carry them for her. Be her judge, her moral compass, her everything.
Because Blair’s not just in my bed anymore.
Now she’s in my blood.
My bones.
My soul.