26. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Eden
A lthough I haven’t had any alone time with Roman since Halloween, we’ve become masters at stealing moments whenever we can. Quiet exchanges in the altar server’s room before Mass or brief touches in his office just before the service begins have become our sanctuary.
Roman convinced my dad to let me take on more service hours, and the facade is falling into place perfectly despite Luca’s sudden absence. After what happened at the party, Luca has found himself at the bottom of my brother’s shit list. Aiden’s taken it upon himself to keep Luca as far away as possible—ignoring him during football and ending calls before I can even answer.
Though, I know if Roman ever saw Luca again, he’d probably kill him for what he did that night.
I used to think being close to someone as dark as Roman would be terrifying. I never imagined I’d crave it as much as I do now .
“Dark roast, one cream,” Zoey shouts, placing the drink on the counter.
Pulling myself out of my mindless daze, I return to my station, pulling shots and frothing foam.
“So, the fall festival is coming up,” Zoey grins, ignoring the wandering eyes of the man grabbing his drink. “Should I expect to see Roman there with you if you come?” She questions, using his first name so casually.
“You’re asking me if a local festival will be where I decide to publicly flaunt my relationship with our priest?” I arch an eyebrow.
Grasping her chin, she pretends to ponder the thought. “Yes, I think that’s exactly what I’m asking,” she smiles.
“You’re fucking delusional—”
“Who’s delusional?” His deep voice cuts through the noise, making my heart skip a beat.
Looking up, I see Roman lingering at the register, his hair tucked away under a black baseball cap. He’s wearing a large bomber jacket, clearly trying to stay concealed, avoiding prying eyes.
“Speak of the Devil,” Zoey jokes, poking me in the back.
At least she’s warming up to the idea of me and Roman.
“No one. Zoey was just suggesting that you join us for the fall festival at the fairgrounds,” I say, offering him a smile. His eyes flicker toward Zoey.
“I’m sure no one would have an issue with that,” He says sarcastically, and Zoey rolls her eyes.
“As long as you stay hands-off, Father, I see no harm.”
Hands-off is nearly impossible for Roman .
“Do you mind making me a chai?” Roman asks Zoey, his voice casual but his eyes intense. She nods slowly, her usual grin in place.
“As long as you tip,” She replies, getting to work on his drink.
As he slides a twenty across the counter, my eyes catch on his bare wedding finger.
“Where’s—”
“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” He whispers, leaning over the counter, his lips barely brushing against my cheek. “I’m done waiting to fuck that pretty pussy.”
He leaves the conversation at that, walking away with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“I’m taking twenty.” Zoey doesn’t even have time to question where I’m going; I’m already on my way, the air thick with the thrill of what’s to come. My hand hovers over the door handle for just a moment, the reality of what I’m about to do washing over me in a wave of nervous excitement.
Roman's breath is hot against my neck as his lips trail upwards, each kiss sending shivers down my spine. "Look how easily you came crawling to me, pretty girl," He whispers, his voice low and rough, filled with dark satisfaction. The metal arm rail digs into my back, but the discomfort is lost in the heat pooling between my legs.
He takes his time, savoring every second as his canines graze my skin, sending a mix of pleasure and anticipation coursing through me. His hands fumble with the buttons of my blouse, slowly revealing the skin beneath, the fabric parting under his touch like a forbidden secret.
His free hand slips lower, rubbing me through the fabric of my leggings, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure that make my breath hitch. The smirk on his face grows with every small moan that escapes my lips, each sound a testament to the control he holds over me.
"Already so wet for me," He murmurs, his fingers pressing harder against my warmth, the pressure making me gasp. The strain in his pants is undeniable, a visible sign of his arousal that only fuels the fire inside me.
"Tell me, Eden," He says, his voice a dangerous mix of seduction and command. "Do you want me to pin you against this bathroom wall and fuck you?" He presses his hips against me, his hardness undeniable as he grinds against my leg.
I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response, as his fingers continue their slow, torturous movements. The teasing is maddening, pushing me closer to the edge with every passing second, and I can feel my resolve slipping away.
"Answer me," He demands, his voice a whisper against my ear, his fingers pausing their movements as he waits for my reply. The pause is deliberate, a calculated move to remind me who's in control.
“Yes, Father," I finally manage, my voice breathless, filled with need. The words are barely out of my mouth when his fingers move again, this time slipping under the waistband of my leggings, finding their way to my wetness .
He hums in approval, his lips brushing against my ear. "Good girl," He whispers, and just like that, the anticipation builds again, every nerve in my body screaming for more of him.
But this time, I want to be the one to take control.
Without a word, I gently push him back, sliding down to my knees before him. Roman's eyes widen, dark with desire, as he watches me, his breath hitching at the sight. The power shift between us is palpable, the air thick with tension as I undo his belt with deliberate slowness.
"Let me take care of you, Father," I murmur. The words drip with seduction. His fingers twitch at his sides, resisting the urge to touch me as I slide the belt free and unbutton his pants. His erection strains against the fabric, the anticipation in his eyes fueling my own desire.
With a flick of my wrist, I free him from his boxers, his cock springing to attention. I glance up, meeting his gaze, and the heat in his eyes sends a thrill through me. Slowly, I wrap my hand around his length, feeling the warmth and hardness in my grip.
Roman lets out a low groan, his control slipping as I begin to stroke him, my movements unhurried, savoring the feel of him. His hands finally come to rest on the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as he watches me with a mix of hunger and restraint.
"You don't have to—" He begins, but I cut him off with a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, tasting the bead of pre-cum that has already formed.
"I want to," I whisper against him, and without waiting for a response, I take him into my mouth, slow and deep. The taste of him floods my senses, and I feel his grip tighten in my hair, his breath catching as I begin to move.
I take my time, setting a rhythm that drives him wild, my lips and tongue working in tandem to bring him closer to the edge. Roman's control slips further with every passing moment, his groans growing louder, more desperate as he fights to keep from thrusting into my mouth.
With Roman still catching his breath, I pull away slightly, keeping my eyes locked on his. A surge of defiance and raw desire bubbles up inside me, and before he can react, I tilt my head back slightly and spit onto his cock, the moisture glistening as it coats him.
Roman’s eyes darken with a mix of surprise and intense arousal, his breath hitching as he watches me. The act is both a challenge and a declaration of power, a reminder that in this moment, I hold as much control as he does.
His hands grip my shoulders, his fingers digging in just enough to anchor himself as he watches me with a gaze that’s both reverent and possessive. The room seems to hold its breath as I use my hand to spread the spit along his length, the slickness making each movement more deliberate, more intense.
“Eden…” He breathes, his voice a low growl filled with both warning and approval, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.
Without breaking eye contact, I lower my head again, taking him back into my mouth, the slickness from the spit making each glide smooth and intense. Roman's grip on my shoulders tightens, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as I work him with a deliberate rhythm, each movement a mix of devotion and defiance.
I feel his body tense beneath my touch, the control he usually holds over himself slipping away with every second that passes. His hand moves to the back of my head, guiding me as I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, wanting to draw every reaction from him that I can.
“Fuck, Eden…” Roman groans, his voice low and rough, filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. The sound of his voice and the way his body responds to me only urges me on. I pick up the pace, feeling the tension in him build to a breaking point.
His fingers tangle in my hair, his restraint hanging by a thread as he fights to keep from losing control completely. But I don’t let up. I want him to lose control, to surrender to the pleasure coursing through him, just as I have so many times before. Just as I feel him tensing beneath me, his breath hitching in that familiar way that signals he's close, Roman suddenly pulls back, his hands gripping my shoulders as he steps away. The sudden loss of him leaves me gasping. My lips part in surprise as I look up at him, confused and frustrated.
Roman’s eyes are dark, filled with a storm of emotions I can’t quite read. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regain control. His hands move to cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, the air between us thick with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.
“Why did you stop?” I whisper, my voice tinged with the desperation I can’t quite hide .
"Stand up," He snaps, grabbing my elbows and pressing me against the cold tile.
He tugs at my leggings, forcing them down, underwear and all, giving me little warning as he aligns his tip to my slick warmth.
"Trying to get me to cum in your mouth?" He questions next to my ear, nipping at its top.
Bending me over, Roman forces my elbows to support my weight on the metal railing before driving himself into me just seconds later.
Pressing my forehead against the cold wall, I bite back a vicious moan the moment he buries himself fully inside me. My body, slick from anticipation, welcomes each powerful thrust, the motion made effortless by how wet I am. His hand coils in my hair, and with each pull, he amplifies the sensation, sending sharp jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through me.
"Fuck-"
"You like that pain, don't you?" He questions, reading me like a book.
The air feels like it's being knocked out of my lungs with each of his thrusts.
"Y-Yes-" I gasp, his cock driving in harder. "Fuck, yes." I whimper, struggling to support my weight on shaking legs.
"Beg for my cum, Eden," He whispers, mercilessly pounding into me. "Beg for me to fucking cum-"
"Please," I whisper, ready to collapse. "Please fill my pussy with your-" I beg, tears clouding my eyes.
Reaching his hand in front of me, he rolls his fingers over my swollen clit.
"Only if you cum on my cock first," He whispers .
Biting down on my shirt to stifle the screams threatening to escape, I feel Roman’s fingers slowly rubbing over my clit, his touch deliberate and teasing even as he continues to drive into me. The warmth in my stomach builds, the sensation overwhelming as he brings me right to the edge.
“Fuck, Roman,” I hiss, letting out a gasping, silent moan. “I fucking love this,” I admit, feeling my climax surge. “I fucking love you—”
As if on cue, he releases my hair, his hand moving away from my clit as he grips my hips tightly, and I feel his release surge inside me. Both of us are left breathless, our bodies trembling as he quickly wipes away the evidence of our encounter before pulling my leggings back up.
The weight of what I’ve just said hits me like a ton of bricks. My head pressed against the wall. I’m too petrified to turn around and face him. Struggling to support myself, I lean heavily into the metal railing, the clarity of my post-orgasm haze settling in.
I just told Roman I loved him.
When I finally force my eyes open, I see, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
Is he embarrassed?
"Why do you look so unsettled?" I ask, watching him fumble with his belt, his movements hesitant.
"I'm not unsettled, Eden," He whispers, running a hand through his hair. But even as he says it, his eyes betray him. They’re wide, searching, like he’s trying to find solid ground beneath him but only feeling the earth crumble away.
"Look, Roman, what I said was stupid—"
"It’s what made me finish," He interrupts, the confession hanging between us heavy with meaning. His cheeks flush, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something he’s afraid to admit, even to himself. "I was close, but when you said that, it did something to me," He confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you mean it?" His eyes search mine, almost pleading for an answer.
Fuck.
What do I say?
I said it because I meant it.
I said it because I wanted him to know it.
"Or was it just the sex?" He asks, his voice tight with uncertainty, his expression a mask hiding a storm of emotions.
"People say things in the heat of the moment," I lie, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I’m sorry—"
"Your twenty minutes are almost up, Angel," He says, his tone distant, though I can hear the tension beneath it. "I don’t want you to be late."
As he reaches for the door handle, I grab his hand, holding onto the connection that feels like it’s slipping away.
"Did you want me to mean it, Roman?" I ask, seeing the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and the vow he’s clinging to.
"People say things they don’t mean, Eden," He whispers, his voice laden with disappointment I can’t hide from. "Sometimes it stings."
He opens the door, and the hallway beyond seems to beckon him away from me, the distance between us growing with each passing second .
"Roman—"
"You need to get back to work. Don’t let me stop you."
With a tense look, he slips his ring back onto his finger, the gold band catching the light—a stark reminder of the vow that holds him back. His face hardens as if the ring itself has the power to lock away the emotions he’s so desperately trying to control.
"And how do you think I feel," I challenge, my voice trembling with emotion, "knowing that every time you put that ring on, it’s like you’re reminding yourself that I’m something forbidden? Like I’m a temptation you have to resist instead of someone you care about."
He turns back to me, his eyes filled with a tortured mix of emotions—fear, regret, and something deeper that he can’t quite name. His voice is low, almost a whisper, as he says, "Probably like I just told you I love you, then looked like I was too scared to accept it."
His face softens, just for a moment, and I see the man behind the priest—the man who is terrified of what he feels for me, yet powerless to stop it.
Without another word, Roman turns away, his hands disappearing into his pockets, the unspoken truth hanging heavily in the air between us.
I fucked up.
I thought I was sparing his feelings. Turns out, I’d just shattered them.
Staggering back into the main part of the café, I see Roman collecting his drink from Zoey, his eyes deliberately avoiding mine as I move behind the counter. Tightening my apron, I take a stand beside Zoey, watching Roman retreat to one of the couches. His movements are tense, his demeanor closed off, and I can’t shake the feeling of dread settling in my stomach.
"Why is he so pissy?" Zoey asks, frowning as she watches him. "He barely said a word once he grabbed his drink, and where did you two disappear to?"
"I think I messed up, Zo," I admit, my gaze fixated on Roman as he settles on the couch, the eyes of several women in the café drifting toward him, drawn to his presence.
He looks up, catching one of the women’s gazes, and smiles—a gesture that ignites a surge of jealousy and anger within me.
When his eyes briefly flicker to mine, there’s a defiant glint in them, challenging me, pushing me further into my own frustration.
No, scratch that. I definitely messed up.
"Well, go take an order," Zoey whispers urgently. "And try not to look like you just got fucked in the café bathroom," She adds, reading me like an open book.
Mortified, I duck my head, fumbling with the register screen, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.
"What can I get going for you?" I ask, my voice shaky as I focus on the task at hand.
"Eden?"
My heart stops .
All the anger that had been simmering in my veins instantly morphs into paralyzing fear.
I force myself to look up from the register, my breath catching in my throat as I take an involuntary step back, my body trembling uncontrollably.
Eric.
He found me.
He looks just like he always has—brown hair slicked back, his deep dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. The face that’s haunted my nightmares for so long is standing right in front of me, and I can’t breathe, can’t think.
"Eden, are you okay?" Zoey’s voice is distant, barely penetrating the fog of terror engulfing me.
"E-Eric—" The word stumbles from my lips, a broken echo of the name that has haunted me.
Memories crash over me—his hands pinning me down, the weight of his body suffocating me, my body being violated.
"E-Eric—"
The world spins, my vision blurs, and my body crumples to the ground. The last thing I hear is Zoey’s panicked voice, calling my name, as everything fades into nothing.
1 Peter 5:8: "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary, the Devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."