13. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Eden
I step onto the altar, my heart racing, as my fingers trace the cool metal of the chalice. It feels both forbidden and strangely comforting, like I’m grounding myself in something familiar. I move to the paten, running my hand over its smooth surface, trying to escape the chaos in my mind. The soft linen of the corporal brushes against my skin, offering a small sense of calm. I linger near the candles, drawn to their warmth, letting the flickering light steady my breath. Gripping the ciborium, I focus on its weight, trying to anchor myself as my thoughts continue to swirl.
I can feel Roman creeping up behind me, his breathing audible.
"Eden-"
"Where should I sit?" I ignore his need to talk about what I walked in on. “Still to your left?” I point to the wooden seat.
Glaring at the chairs, Roman shakes his head.
"Eden, what you saw- "
“Or will you have me kneel at your feet during Mass?” I toy with the knotted rope at my waist, pulling at the frayed ends.
Stepping in front of me, he holds up his hands. His brow furrows as he opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly cut him off.
"Let me see you in it," I snap, glancing back at the chair. "Take a seat," I urge. "Then we can talk."
Looking back at his chair, I can see the tension crackling in the air between us. The power play I’ve set in motion clearly frustrates him, his eyes narrowing into a glare that threatens to cut me into a thousand pieces. The attraction simmering beneath our conflict only heightens the stakes, making his struggle to maintain control all the more intense.
“I’m not doing this with you.”
"You’re going to have to," I hiss, "or else I’m going straight to the police-"
"And what do you think they will do?" He takes a step toward me, his hand coiling around the rope at my waist, tugging me just a bit closer to him. "You think they’ll care what happened inside the walls of this church?" He snaps angrily. "That little fuck deserved what I did to him. Don’t act like you disagree. Don’t stand there and act like you’re going to open your mouth about what you saw.”
"What makes you think I won't?" I let my eyes travel up and down his body, making sure he knew I was sizing him up, daring him to underestimate me.
Tensing his jaw, Roman eyes the chair, his hand coiling tighter around the rope around my waist .
"Fine, you want me in the chair, Eden?" He challenges, his voice laced with tension as he grabs hold of me. I try to push him away, but his grip is firm as he drags me along with him. He drops into the chair with a deliberate sprawl, pulling me between his legs. I can feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, even through the clothes that separate us. His chin tilts up, eyes locking onto mine. The air between us is thick with a mix of desire and defiance. My hands press against his chest, resisting, but the magnetic pull between us is impossible to ignore.
Looking down at him, I cock my head to the side as his hands move from the rope to my hips.
"Your turn," He hisses. "Take a seat."
I try to move away, eyeing the deacon’s chair beside him.
"Not there, Eden."
Looking toward his lap, I bite back the smirk tugging at my lips, shaking my head at him with mock disapproval. My eyes flick upward to the massive cross hanging above the altar, and I can’t help but find the situation almost comedic. "You really think this is a good idea in his presence?" I tease, my voice laced with playful defiance, letting the weight of the moment settle between us.
He grabs me, pulling me toward him with a firm, insistent grip. My body instinctively leans into his, his hand sliding up my thigh, urging me onto his lap. His other hand quickly finds my opposite leg, guiding me with an urgency that sends a shiver through me. As I straddle him, the thin fabric of my underwear brushes against the hardness beneath his robes, a dangerous sensation that heightens the tension between us. My hands grip the back of the chair for support as I settle into his lap, his eyes widening when he realizes I’m wearing nothing beneath the robe but my panties. He leans in closer, his voice low and filled with playful authority as he murmurs, "God will forgive me. After all, he created temptation for a reason, didn't he?"
"Maybe, but even temptation has its limits. Think you can handle it, or should I remind you of what happens to sinners?" I rock my hips gently, feeling the hard length of his cock under the fabric of his robe rub against my bare thigh. His hands tighten around my hips,
“Sit still, Eden,” He growls. Adrenaline courses through me at an all-time high. “We need to talk about Zack.”
"Is that your secret? You get off on punishing your altar servers?" I look down at him, my hands wrapping around the back of his head, burying into his locks.
“Maybe that’s why you and my father get along so well.”
Grabbing the back of my neck, Roman tugs my hair hard, exposing my neck to him. A small yelp makes its way out of me, my body aching from the pressure.
Leaning into me, he drags his cheek along my exposed neck, grazing his nose along my jawline.
"I will never be like your piece of shit father," He snaps, more forceful than usual. "I'd much rather have you here like this, walking the line of my faith to God, than anywhere near him."
"And if God were to turn his back on you for this?"
"I can always worship someone else." His eyes trace over my body, slow and deliberate, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. The intensity of his gaze sends a thrill through me, and when our eyes lock, the desire in his expression is impossible to miss. He looks at me like he’s barely holding back, and it’s enough to make my breath catch.
The warmth between my legs grows as his cock continues to press against my center through our robes, and I decide to test just how far he’s willing to go.
"Why was Zack deserving of your punishment, Father?" I rock my hips again, his hand tightens around the hair at the nape of my neck.
"Eden-"
"Confess," I snap, feeding into the pain from his touch. "Confess your sins to me, Father Briar."
He lets go of my hair and I see his jaw tighten, the muscles flexing just beneath his skin.
"Take off the robe, Eden," He growls.
I shake my head, and his hand moves to my ass.
Unaware that the skin there is still sensitive, he delivers it a harsh slap, my body slumping forward into him as I hide a sob.
He moves his lips to my ear. “I said take it off. Right. Fucking. Now.”
I lean back to glare at him as I fumble with the material. Growing impatient, he reaches down between us and tugs at the rope around my waist, slipping it off and tossing it to the floor. “Thanks for the help,” I say dryly.
Leaning back in the chair, he looks satisfied.
"My pleasure. Now take it off."
It feels as if every celestial eye is upon me, the weight of unseen judgment heavy in the air. My cheeks burn with a deep flush as my fingers nervously toy with the hem of my robe. Slowly, I reach down to the bunched fabric in my lap and drag the material up my body and over my head, exposing my skin to the warm, dim light. The robe finally slips from my grasp, cascading to the floor, leaving me standing there, vulnerable and exposed, the anticipation thickening with every breath I take.
Bared before him, in nothing but my undergarments, Roman takes all of me in, his hands trailing up my sides before running down my front.
"Black lace?"
I could feel the words forming on my tongue, sharp and cutting, designed to slip right under his skin. He had no idea what was coming, but I was about to make sure he felt every ounce of the sting.
“I thought Luca might like to see it later tonight.”
Roman’s eyes widen, sparks of rage flicker in his dilated pupils. He jerks me closer until my breasts are flush with his chest, my knees hitting the back of the chair.
“He won’t see a fucking thing, Eden. If you let him touch you –”
“Why do you care? Maybe I want him to touch me.”
He bares his teeth, hissing out his response.
“Why do I care?” He almost growls. “Because every time I see you, it’s like you’re pulling me further away from everything I’ve sworn to uphold. You make me question everything—my vows, my dedication, even my faith. I crave you in ways I’m not supposed to, and it’s driving me mad. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, because, God help me, I want you for myself, despite everything I’ve been taught, despite everything I believe. You’ve gotten under my skin, and now I can’t get you out, no matter how hard I try.” My breath catches as his confession sinks in. My heart pounds in my chest, the tension between us palpable, electrifying. My eyes flicker down to his hand, resting on my thigh, and there it is—the ring. A simple band of gold, worn smooth from years of devotion, a constant reminder of the vows he’s taken. The same ring I thought was a wedding band when we first met. It gleams softly in the dim light, symbolizing everything he’s dedicated his life to—everything that stands between us.
I reach out, my hand hovering just above his, my fingers trembling as they brush against the ring. Slowly, deliberately, I trace the band with my fingertip, feeling the weight of what it represents and the intensity of the moment. Our eyes lock, and the room seems to shrink around us, the world narrowing down to just this—the tension, the longing, and the unspoken promise of what might come next.
“Is this what’s holding you back?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, laced with desire. The ring feels like a barrier, but as I glance back into his eyes, I see the crack in his resolve, the part of him that wants to forget it all, if only for a moment.
"Take it off," I mutter. “And touch me.”
"Eden-"
"Your demons want me, Father?" I tap the ring. "Then take off the ring...and sin. You can ask for forgiveness later.”
His eyes meet mine, searching for something— reassurance, maybe absolution. But all I offer him is the intensity of my gaze, the silent understanding that this moment could change everything.
Slowly, deliberately, he begins to slide the ring off his finger. It’s not a quick motion; it’s hesitant, almost reverent as if he’s peeling away a layer of his soul. The ring slips off, and for a moment, it rests in his palm, heavy with the weight of what it means. His eyes darken, the last vestige of resistance melting away as he places the ring on the arm of the chair, the sound of metal against wood echoing in the stillness.
His hand, now bare, finds its way back to my thigh, and this time, there’s nothing holding him back. The touch is different now—bolder, more assured. It’s as if the removal of that ring has unleashed something within him, something raw and powerful.
He pulls me closer, his fingers digging into my skin with a newfound intensity, his breath hot against my neck. There’s no more hesitation, no more barriers. His eyes devour me as I grind my nearly naked body against him, craving the friction.
A sense of euphoria pulses through me, the light that filters through the stained-glass windows casting a rainbow of colors that dance along my flesh.
Roman’s body is tense as he groans, resisting the urge to thrust his hips into me.
“Give me a reason to praise God, Father.”
Like a starved man, his lips latch onto my front. My fingers curl into his hair as he guides my hips, dragging my center over his length. I let out a moan of pleasure, needing more. He curses under his breath, moving his hands to my back and to the clasp of my bra.
"My turn to confess," I smile, running my lips along the edge of his jaw. "I lied. I wore this for you, hoping you’d touch me again. ”
"You want me to touch you, Eden?" His words cascade through my body like a rockslide; the rough, gravely tone tearing me apart as they clamber down to rest between my legs.
“Yes, Father. Please.”
Roman stands, lifting me with him, his hands cupping my ass. I gasp, wrapping my legs tightly around his middle as he turns us around and lowers me to where he’d just been sitting. My legs loosen from around him as he kneels to the floor. Gently, he latches on to the backs of my knees, and drapes my legs over the chair’s armrests, leaving me in front of him, spread wide open.
"What are you-"
“Giving you a reason to renew your faith, Eden,” He whispers. “Feel free to praise God while I worship you.”
He lowers his head, pressing his lips to my inner thigh. The sensation of his warm lips on my skin is enough to ruin me. I lean my head back into the chair as his hands move to my underwear, feeling his fingers rub the dip between my folds over the fabric. With his free hand, he pulls my hips closer to him, his mouth still exploring my skin.
His kisses turn painful as he latches his teeth to me. I slam my mouth shut, biting my cheeks to try and muffle my moans. I look down to see his face hovering above my center, the warmth of his breath caressing me, adding to my already out-of-control desire for him. He watches his fingers as they slide over the material of my underwear, a look of hunger etched into his features.
"Roman-"
With a violent yank, he rips the lace underwear from my body.
"Keep saying my name," He whispers. "And don’t fucking stop until you cum. ”
Plunging his fingers into me, I release the moan of pleasure I'd been holding back. He dips forward, and I watch as his mouth opens and his tongue begins to lap up the wetness between my folds. The evidence of my desire drips down onto the chair under me as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, feasting on me, devouring me.
I rock my hips against his face, already teetering on the edge of release.
He drags his tongue up once more and settles on the bundle of nerves, making me ache with the need to feel him deeper inside me. I tuck my lips between my teeth, praying to God that I last just a little longer so he can give me more.
And then he does the most delicious thing. He sucks.
An overwhelming burst of pin-pricking pleasure bubbles up into my stomach. The pain from the raw skin on my ass is gone. All I can feel is him, and he holds my clit in his mouth and flicks his tongue back and forth, trapping me in a warm, wet vice. He lets out a groan that vibrates through to the very depths of my Godforsaken soul.
"Roman," I whisper, the stimulation hitting a tipping point, his fingers curling every so often, hitting the spot that makes me lose all sense of control.
"Roman," I moan, his mouth working harder, the wet sound of his tongue lapping at me, his fingers plunging in and out as I gush for him. All of it is my new addiction. It is too much and yet not enough.
A tight coil of warmth unravels inside me, and pleasure explodes through my core. My muscles spasm around his fingers and a growl of approval encourages me to rock against his mouth. He pulls his wicked fingers from me as I ride out the rest of my orgasm with his tongue. When I go to move away from him, he places a hand on my stomach to hold me in place.
"Roman, I can't take anymore-"
He swirls his tongue over my too-sensitive clit, shoving his mouth deeper into my flesh the more I try to resist.
My legs shake as another orgasm threatens to rip through me, the sensation almost painful.
"Roman!" I yell, trying to hold it together. "Please," I hiss. "Please, I can't take anymore-"
He slowly pulls his head away from my center, his chin glistening with my release. He rubs a thumb over his skin, collecting the wetness before placing it in his mouth and licking it clean.
I watch as Roman gets to his feet, the strain of his cock still there under his robe.
“Stand up.”
Not sure where this is going, I begin to stand, my legs shaking. Roman takes my arm, turning me so he can take back his seat.
“Time to repent, Angel.” He dips his chin, looking up at me through his long lashes. “Turn around and bend over.”
Swallowing hard, I panic. I don’t want him to see the raw, reddened skin on my backside.
Glancing down at his fingers, I decide to lower myself to my knees. His brow furrows in confusion as I take his hand in mine.
“What are you –?”
I place his fingers in my mouth, holding his wrist with one hand as I place the other on his knee. I keep my eyes locked on his as I did as he’d done earlier and begin to lick him clean .
His eyes grow wide with lust, cupping the side of my face as I work, watching me as I work. I give his fingertips one final swirl of my tongue before slowly dragging them out of my mouth.
"Do you taste how fucking sweet that pretty pussy is?" He drops his hands to my waist, standing me up in front of him.
"Now let me see that pretty ass-"
Before I can stop him, Roman pivots me until I’m no longer facing him. As his voice trails off, my cheeks grow hot. I close my eyes, readying myself for the pain of his touch.
I flinch at the unexpected feeling of his fingertips gently caressing the sensitive skin.
"I didn't do this," He whispers, his thumb rolling over the cut still healing from the contact with my father’s belt buckle.
"Just get it over with, Roman," I hiss, knowing damn well the man values pain just as much as pleasure.
All of this is fun and games, but at the end of the day, I know I’m just a body for him to –
Something warm and soft touches my skin, the feeling gentle and welcoming. I stiffen as he presses tender kisses along my sensitive flesh, his fingers caressing the small of my back.
“Who did this, Eden?”
The truth gets lodged in my throat. I can’t tell him.
"Eden?" he growls in between kisses.
All a sudden the room becomes too small, and I begin to suffocate. I pull away, wanting more space between us. I don’t owe him an explanation. And I can’t trust him. He might have said he’s nothing like my father, but I barely know Roman. Letting him in isn’t an option. The last person I let in was Eric, and that turned out far worse than I ever could’ve imagined .
I swipe my discarded robe from the floor, forcing it over my head, shimmying quickly to get the fabric in place to cover my body.
"What’s your game here, Roman?" I cross my arms across my chest protectively. "It's clear you get off on being in a position of authority. That you enjoy making me submit to you. It’s even clearer you have suppressed sexual desires, which I’ve regrettably enjoyed exploring, but none of that matters. You don’t even know me. And I sure as hell don’t owe you anything."
Standing up, he shakes his head.
His expression goes blank. Taking in a deep breath, he shakes his head. "I think we might have taken things too far."
I laugh, knowing the regret must be settling in for him. "You’re embarrassed, aren’t you? For turning away from your commitment to God with me of all people."
"Eden, that's not-"
"How do you think this plays out? Do you think I’ll continue being your altar server, letting you touch me in private while listening to you preach to this congregation about the importance of upholding sound morals and virtues? I thought allowing this to happen would bring me some relief, but instead, it’s just added to the pain I carry with me every single second of every single day,” I snap, tears flooding from my eyes.
"You think hurting Zack makes things easier for me, Roman? It doesn’t. What do you think will happen when you're not around, and he and I are alone again?" I yell, his eyes lowering. "I don't know what the hell you think is happening here, but it's done. I know my father was here. I know you two spoke. And I’ve seen that fucking binder in our home. You may say you’re nothing like him, but having anything to do with him is just as bad," I sob, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.
Roman takes a step towards me, but I move around him to the altar, swiping his gold ring from the arm of his chair. I turn around and close the space between us, grabbing his hand and placing the ring in his palm.
"Take your fucking ring. Repent to God and leave me the hell alone."
I brush past him down the altar steps towards the doorway leading out into the vestibule.
This had been a mistake.
I was sad and vulnerable.
He was horny and powerful.
And now, it's over.
I barrel through the double doors, nearly slipping on the mix of blood and holy water. Running into the altar servers’ changing area, I quickly remove the robe and put on my clothes from earlier. I gather the rest of my things and make my way back to the front of the church, luckily making it to the front doors without seeing Roman again. I spot my Kia in the parking lot, Aiden waiting in the driver’s seat.
As I get to the car, I throw my things in the backseat before opening the passenger door. I don’t know why I did it, but I looked up to the front of the church as I moved to get in the car. I pause, seeing Roman standing under the portico just outside the entryway, his hands balled into fists at his side, the fading light of the day catching on the gold ring on his finger.
Glaring at him, I hold up my middle finger as I slide into the car .
“What was that about?” Aiden closes the book in his lap and reaches to turn down the music he’d been blasting before I got in the car.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
Roman Briar.
My priest.
My secret.
The biggest sin I’ve ever committed.