Chapter 15. #2
It’s impossible to think someone as soft as this, and as tough as what I saw in the ring that day, could all be the same person.
A frown touches his lips while I’m holding his face, “Wait, but you’re heading out now, right? Give it back then, you can come back for it later.” He reaches for the bag in my hands but I release him to step out of the way and out of reach.
“No, I'll take it with me.”
“What? Why?”
Because you’re too fucking cute. I tilt my head inexpressively, “I don't need a reason to take my own stuff outside.”
“It became ‘your own stuff’ pretty quickly,” he quirks a brow. “Where are you going anyway?”
I grin, “None of your business.” He follows behind curiously as I walk out the door.
“Are you working?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then can I come with?”
“Don’t think you’re allowed to step foot outside just because Xavier let you go out with Dahlia once,” I turn before he can step outside the room to stop him in his tracks. “You’re still on house arrest. Don’t make me put the cuffs back on you.”
He mumbles under his breath and I don’t have to hear his words to know he’s being rude.
“You said something?”
“Not at all, sir.”
I snort.
“And don’t go spreading any nonsense!” He calls after me as I leave down the hall and this time it brings a smile to my lips. Within the last fifteen minutes, I’ve gone from hopeless nymphomaniac to spiteful asshole to lovesick fool. All while telling myself I wouldn’t chase Christian Adler.
When I visit Baachan next I may really need to get a charm and pray to some of those spirits of hers.
I can recognize a doomed man, even if it’s myself.
The church Cameron volunteers at is a fifteen-minute drive away on our side of the lake, without crossing the bridge to the city.
So it’s easier for me to drive there myself instead of calling on Wesley.
The church is small but still pretty popular for the people on this side, housing maybe nine hundred to a thousand people max.
I think Cameron has been working there for a long time but I can’t say we know much about each other.
I know he likes how I fuck him and although he has a pretty face, he’s sensible not to cross the line.
That’s good enough for me.
The parking lot for the church is empty and from the outside the church looks tightly closed, except for one or two lights on the inside.
I’ve come here maybe three times in my life and none of them were because I wanted to. Nevertheless, the entire structure feels foreign the moment I step inside, and when I close the door behind me, Cameron is already piercing me with a sharp glare.
He’s almost as tall as I am, and though he has a lean frame, he doesn’t have two-thirds of the muscle any of my men have.
It doesn’t bother me, his face was what caught my eye in the first place, hazel eyes, with sharp cheekbones and wavy blond hair that stops at his neck.
He’s still wearing the white robe that sets him apart as a member of the church, but I vaguely remember him telling me he doesn’t hold any important positions; he just volunteers to help with the little things.
The reason though, I can’t remember.
I walk towards him, through the aisle and between the pews lined up alongside us on the left and right and the crease in his brow visibly deepens, “Do you understand how crazy this is—?”
I cup his face in one hand and pull him towards me to sink my tongue into his mouth and his protests are effectively cut off.
“We can’t—do this here,” he tries between kisses, but I’ve been a bit past reason since the moment I was born.
His protests weaken with each flick of my tongue against his—each wild pull of my teeth on his bottom lip.
It’s only moments before he’s a mess in my hands and I pull away with an impatient command.
“Tongue out.”
The venomous look in his eyes hasn’t faded but a haze of lust and anticipation passes over his face as he sticks his tongue out for me.
It always makes my cock twitch. The moment when their fight breaks down into lust.
I tease him endlessly, licking and sucking the bundle of nerves in his mouth.
Slowly. Painstakingly. Until his energy is a smoke screen before my eyes, making him weak.
He’s panting when I’ve finally had enough—when I’m satisfied with the look in his eyes and convinced he’ll work properly now the way he’s meant to.
I whisper in a low voice, “Good boy.”
His energy shivers.
“Now get on your knees. Mouth open. Tongue out.”
He’s still wearing the fucking robes when I slide my cock into his waiting mouth in the centre of the aisle.
“Fucking sinful.” His mouth is warm and wet as I take him to the back of his throat and I can’t help the shiver up my spine.
“Just look at you,” I strain as I thrust in and out of him, and everything in the chamber is sending new excitement to my dick.
They say that god’s presence can be felt more so in churches.
If so, the feeling of him watching me now, ruining his little servant, makes me want to cum right here in his mouth.
“You pray to your god with this mouth today?” I rumble deeply and he moans, the sound reverberating around my cock and dragging my orgasm to the surface.
It’s Christian’s face I see beneath me when I cum. When I pull his hair back and stroke my cock. Spilling every last drop from my balls onto his face. His hair, his lashes, his cheeks. His broken protests only add to my ecstasy.
The image of Christian fades with the orgasm and when reality returns to reveal the real face beneath me, I drag my thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes are cute, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as Christian’s. And his energy is too murky. Suffocating. Not star-filled and bright like Christian’s.
No matter. I pull him up by his chin to stand, before turning him around to pull his robes down slightly, nipping his neck and shoulders with my teeth, while resting my hand on his erection.
I nip his ear, “Put me where you need me.”
He shivers again before placing his hand on mine and guiding me beneath his cloths to grasp his dick. The moment he’s in my hands he gasps and I can feel myself getting hard again as I stroke him. All the while teasing his chest and dragging my teeth across his skin.
I know when to give after taking.
I’m nudging him forward slowly as I play with him, so that by the time I’m rearing to go again we’re at the top of the aisle, right in front of the rails that separate us from the altar.
My excitement is back in droves, humming beneath my skin again when I whisper in his ear, “Kneel. And spread your legs for me.”
He’s practically mindless now and that’s exactly how I want him. He kneels down to put his hands on the rail, shaking in my hands, and I scowl, grabbing one of his thighs to pull his legs further.
“Spread your fucking legs,” I warn slowly.
Now he’s kneeling before his god. Legs spread while I stroke his cock.
“Fuck, your god must be so proud of you,” I mutter in his ear, stroking him faster and his gasps turn to cries as I continue to break his mind using purely sensations and surroundings.
I’m parting the robe now so that his cock is exposed to the air, exposed to his god, and he moans, “Wait—Please—”
I ignore him, running my hands over his dripping cock as I mumble, “It’s like you’re begging him to watch. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
He comes with a sharp moan, short gasps of pleasure that touch every corner of the space and I can’t possibly hold back anymore.
His hole is wet and prepped for me even with his protests. He must have listened to me when I told him to be ready, even when he wasn’t sure, and I can’t help but be pleased as I slide my cock into his tightness.
“Fuck, just wait—”
I thrust deeply into him, cutting off his words as he moans.
“People—might come—”
How dare you still have your mind together little plaything.
“I’ve had a rough few weeks,” I say honestly, unable to think properly around the way his ass is clenching down on me. “So I won’t be able to go easy on you today.”
Every moment of fucking him, here on the floor in front of his altar, is worth it. Fuck, I needed the edge off. Christian’s been driving me crazy for weeks. Just thinking about him now makes my hips move faster. Makes me thrust into him harder. Desperately. Frustratingly.
Our first round together ends there with him coming all over the floor of his church. And me, emptying my balls inside his ass.
Unfortunately, we both take to desecrating the church after that.
There’s little conversation, but that’s never been my concern.
There’s a moment, when we’re kissing on the kneeling platform and I'm thrusting inside him, when he reaches into my hair, and his fingers threaten to remove the new decoration I've knotted there, rather sloppily.
“Don't touch it.” The warning in my eyes is enough for him to put his hands elsewhere but there’s a glimmer of amusement that I think I don’t like.
“Since when do you like ribbons?”
My gaze darkens. I sit up to pin his thighs against the floor, thrusting into him so deeply his head tilts back. I'm not sure why Christian would think a black ribbon would possibly suit me. But turns out I've liked ribbons all this time.
I just didn't know it until I got one.
I'll have to confront him about his reasoning later, but there's no harm really in wearing it until then.
I can't tell how much time passes but soon Cameron is bouncing on my cock while I sit in one of the pews at the front of the church, legs spread to show the space how much of a slut he is for me. I hold his legs up and fuck him like that too when he can’t move anymore.
I can tell he’s starved, like I am, because he keeps up with me well.
But the strangest thing I think, would be the small black cat that wanders in, looking around. It catches us like that and freezes when it notices us, when it sees me thrusting into Cameron’s ass—sees my balls slapping against his.
I can see the barest shivers of surprise and horror in its energy, and the colours somehow remind me of Christian. It’s familiar enough to make me come again, shoving me towards my orgasm without a moment’s pause.
But when I open my eyes again, the cat is gone.
And I could almost be convinced I imagined it.