Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rune
I ’m still vibrating like a tuning fork as Farrah, and I follow the monsignor down the hushed hallway at the rear of the cathedral. The one that leads to the rectory and the elder clergy’s offices. I’m highly aware that we’re the only ones here. That I’m about to undergo the trial of a lifetime, right on the heels of what Farrah said to me.
For instance, I’ve never wondered before today what it would feel like to have a man rut me on the ground.
Those words will forever be as familiar to me as the Bible, I fear.
As will the fact that she lives in a shelter.
That there is a vile man who wishes to marry her.
Once she leaves here, what power will I have to stop those things? My muscles tighten to the point of creaking at the very thought of her near that violent bastard, let alone standing before him at an altar. Promising to love and cherish him.
Fire has exploded to life inside of me.
Possessiveness. Protectiveness.
And those are two very bad emotions to be experiencing when tonight will be about withstanding her. Not giving in to the ripe fruit of her body. Overcoming the lust that she and only she has ever plagued me with.
“In here, please,” says the monsignor, gesturing for us to enter his office, which is lit only by the fire crackling in the hearth. He’s very stoic. Curt. All business, as usual, and I have no clue how he can be so calm when we’re about to embark on something so unorthodox. “Father McDaniel, have a seat by the fire,” instructs Monsignor Hannibal—and I do as he asks, but in no way do I relax. “Farrah, there is a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, just there,” he says, gesturing to the small powder room on the opposite end of the office. “Would you go put it on, please, so that we may begin?”
“Oh, um. Sure.” She hesitates. “You want me to put the robe on over my clothes?”
“Oh no.” He gives her a tight smile. “You’re to wear nothing beneath the robe.”
She blinks rapidly. “N-nothing?”
“Correct.”
My ire is rapidly building. “Monsignor, she’s an innocent. Do not ask her to do things she isn’t comfortable with.”
“She agreed to come here for one reason. To tempt you. She came here with her eyes wide open. And if I saw what I think I saw in the field today, she might be innocent of flesh, but she’s certainly not innocent of spirit.”
“Do not speak about her with disrespect,” I growl, shooting to my feet. “You will—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “It’s okay, Father McDaniel. He’s right. I understood my purpose in coming here and I intend to follow through.”
I’m holding back another shout as she disappears into the bathroom and closes the door, her shadow moving in the sliver of light beneath. I listen to the unfastening of her sandals while facing off across the office with a very determined-looking monsignor. Does he want me to fail? Maybe he doesn’t think me right for the priesthood or maybe he already has no doubts about what he saw today and wants a fraud gone from his midst? Whatever his reasons, I have a hard time discounting his potential doubts in me when I hear the whoosh of Farrah’s dress landing on the bathroom floor and my cock begins to fill with pressure.
Dear lord . Already.
I resume my seat before he can notice the protuberance in my pants.
And out walks Farrah in a robe that leaves nothing to the imagination.
It’s made of delicate white silk, tied at her waist, the ends of the belt hanging down to shield her pussy, which I know I would be able to see if they were out of the way, because the dusky little peaks of her nipples are right there. Right there. Plump, rosy crowns on the bouncy mounds of her tits. Those nipples alone are enough to make me start sweating beneath my black shirt…
But her legs could very well kill me.
Long and bare and pale. Smooth, yet strong enough to lock around my hips if needed. And hold on for a good, long while.
“Farrah, go sit on Father McDaniel’s lap.”
Her mouth parts on a brave breath and she nods, crossing the office and stopping in front of me, the glow of the fire illuminating the white silk to the point of translucence. Aware that I’m being watched closely, I keep my eyes locked on hers, chin notched up stubbornly. I never should have become a priest in the first place if I’m weak enough to fail my first test of will. But I’m not weak. I’m built for hard things, unlike my father.
Over Farrah’s shoulder, I catch sight of the crucifix hanging on the wall.
God is watching me, too.
I will not give in to temptation.
“Sit on his lap like this?” asks Farrah, turning sideways and planting her butt on my thigh, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.
The monsignor shakes his head. “No, my child.” He makes a whirling motion with his index finger. “Turn and face Father McDaniel. Your legs should be situated around his hips.”
There’s a mixture of apology and excitement in her eyes when she stands again, crowding into the V of my thighs, sliding one leg around my waist, followed by the other, sliding so smoothly into my lap, the voice in my head begins to taunt me. Look how perfectly she was formed for you. And then the swollen pressure of her naked sex settles on top of my stretched cock, and I grip the edge of the chair, nearly snapping the wood in two, my come on the verge of erupting.
“Now. Does Father McDaniel have an erection, Farrah?”
She winks at me. “No, Monsignor. He doesn’t.”
Clearly, the monsignor is surprised by this. As well he should be, because Farrah is lying. I’m as hard as a frozen boulder and the rough extension of flesh, the utter weight of pain and need is wreaking havoc on my stomach muscles.
“Open the robe and show him your breasts now, Farrah.”
Her eyes drag slowly up to mine and again, there is apology, but there’s heat. So much heat. She might be innocent, but we’re both battling this inexplicable attraction and she doesn’t have the life experience to hide her reaction as well as I. Just like in the field today, I believe I could lay her down on the carpet in front of the fire and slam her full of my shaft and she’d only scream for it deeper. The flames reflected in her eyes are an accurate representation of what she is. A little she-devil in an angelic disguise.
Now, her fingers pinch the edge of the robe’s neckline and slowly, slowly tug the garment open, revealing her delectable tits to me, allowing the white silk to slink down around her waist, pooling there. I do everything in my power to keep my gaze from venturing downward to those young offerings that instinctively I know would greet my tongue like sugar, but I can’t stop myself from looking. From marveling at the twin masterpieces that she’s presenting to me, her back arched slightly, her tits, neck and face awash in the firelight.
I have to look away just as quickly because my cock jerks violently in the face of such perfection and starts to drip into my pants. Pulsing. Dripping. Pulsing. Right up against the hot cushion of her pussy.
“What about now?” asks the monsignor. “Does he have an erection now? How is his body reacting to your nudity?”
“It’s not,” she lies again, smoothly, biting her lip and looking up at me through the veil of her eyelashes, her cunt flexing on top of my tortured flesh once, twice, three times. “He’s not attracted to me, Monsignor. Like we told you, he was only seeing to my injury today in the field.”
A skeptical sound from the monsignor. “No, I can still see that lustful expression when he turned around and realized he’d been caught. I know what I saw!”
“Perhaps it was a trick of light,” I say, my voice like sandpaper.
“You sound rather strained, Father McDaniel,” he observes, smug. “Are you having a sinful reaction to having Farrah in your lap?” He lowers his voice. “You only need unfasten your pants to experience her. As a virgin, she’d undoubtedly be tight. I’m told a snug hole affords a man a good deal of pleasure.”
“Please stop,” I bite off, trying to banish the vision he’s creating in my mind. My fist guiding my cock up beneath the silk robe where her wet entrance awaits me, rocking her onto my stiffness, all of her weight pressing down, down, down, my hips riding her around. Up, back and side to side, her mouth falling open in pleasure. Chanting my name.
My begging has caused the monsignor to look like he’s won the challenge, however, so I rush to add, “Please stop. Do not speak of her as if she’s an object.”
Although…she appears to like it. Being objectified. Her eyes are glassy, the drenched state of her cunt turning the fly of my pants sopping wet.
“Isn’t she, though?” the monsignor says, so low I almost don’t hear him. “Move in his lap now, Farrah. Rub your sex up and back. Up and back. Dammit, earn your pay, girl.”
Farrah might have been shrewd and lucid enough to lie for me before, but as soon as her hips scoot up and down the rigid length of my dick, a light of passion flickers on in her eyes and damn, damn, she’s lost to the sensations now. Bare to the waist, she holds onto my shoulders, gets extra close and bucks her hips. Buck, buck, bucks them until I’m not breathing, only holding on, praying for perseverance that never comes. My cock only expands in size, the throb gripping me from root to tip, and I can only hold on, at her mercy. Bearing down so I don’t ejaculate, while a baser part of me urges her on, wanting her to give me relief. Needing it so desperately, I can taste blood in my mouth, while she gallops on my lap, jacking me off between her pussy and my abdomen.
“ Is he erect, Farrah?”
“No,” she gasps, head falling back, lower body writhing eagerly.
“Then what are you rubbing against so eagerly, pray tell?”
“I..I…”
“McDaniel, stand up and prove she isn’t lying.”
I’m as good as defrocked. My cock is swollen beyond measure, ready to break through my zipper to get to her.
“Monsignor!” calls a man’s voice from down the hall. “Are you in your office? You have a visitor in the cathedral. It’s an emergency.”
The monsignor slams his fist down on the desk. “Damn it all.”
“Monsignor!” shouts the newcomer again. “Please make haste.”
“I’m coming!” he calls back, before jabbing a finger at me and Farrah. “Keep rubbing. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the monsignor has cleared the doorway, Farrah starts to babble. “I’m…I think I’m going to have p-pleasure, F-father.”
“An orgasm,” I correct her, my teeth bared against her mouth. “God help me, I’m going to have one too, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and it’s breaking me .” I grab hold of her ass, doomed to find those pumping cheeks fit my palms like a dream, and I compress her tighter to my straining cock, the rapid friction of her mound driving me to the brink. “Was it God or the devil who sent you to drive me mad? Which one of them?”
She can’t answer, because lust grips her, clearing her eyes of any rationality. And if I thought I was doomed before, watching this creature climax has sealed the deal. It’s the most divine experience of my lifetime, more rapturous than anything I’ve witnessed through the church, as blasphemous as that is to admit. But look at her , shocked by the ability of her body to seize up and shake through a release, her spine gripped by the invisible rush, her thighs trembling around my hips.
There is no option available to my awed brain but to kiss her.
It’s the point of no return and I run blindly down the path to my own destruction, sealing our mouths together, suctioning her, anchoring her, then losing my head when she parts her lips to gasp and allow my tongue to sweep inside, to taste the bliss that’s coursing through her. And she falls on me with a husky mewl, climbing the trunk of my body with those shaking thighs, giving me her tongue like she’s been longing for it for a millennium, our lips meshing, twisting and taking.
Voices cut through the noise in my head, my chest, and Farrah must hear them, too, because she breaks away, studying my face with a troubled expression.
“You can’t be erect when he returns, Father.” She works her hips and light bursts in front of my eyes, my balls beginning to squeeze. “Won’t an orgasm make it less stiff?”
“Yes.” It’s coming. It’s coming. She moves so wickedly, I’m right on the verge. “It’s no use trying to hide what you’re doing to me. He’ll know from the mess I’m about to make.”
“No, Father,” she whines, sipping kisses from my mouth, her pussy pressing and circling and rubbing, her hands twisted in the shoulders of my shirt. “No…we’ll hide it.”
“Where?” I say, raggedly.
She chews her lip. “Inside me?”
“ No. No, I will not make your first time all about my pleasure.”
“Can I swallow it?” she asks me, so innocently, this red-haired temptation with her tits high and perky, her panties drenched in her own moisture.
And I become an animal, wrestling her down to the floor between my open knees, unbuckling my belt with hands that belong to someone else, someone overcome by need so intense it becomes his identity, gritting my teeth while unzipping my pants without injuring my shaft. Because lord. Lord, I am abundant, purple with pressure, my crown shiny with the beginnings of my load, and when she leans in and grasps me with two pale, curious hands, I delve a handful of fingers into her hair and guide her forward, as if I was born to be accepted into this girl’s mouth. Born to slide right in.
“Drink your milk, sweetheart. Drink it all for Daddy.” Her lips wrap around me, warm and wet. Excitement flaring in her eyes when I call myself that name, her fists flexing a little tighter to my length, pumping, stroking. “Hide my sin down deep in that tummy.”
She moans, burying me inch by inch in her hot, suckling mouth—
Lucifer himself designs my reaction to feeling the curvature of her throat with my cock, the release of semen so swift and violent, I feel suffocated and exultant all at once, my hips jerking crudely to the edge of the chair, guttural grunts paining my throat, my balls milking thymically as I spill into her horny little mouth. She watches me with wide eyes, her throat working with dutiful gulps, her red hair spilling over the tops of my thighs.
“Good girl, Farrah,” I pant. “You’ve nearly got it all. Nearly…there. Oh my God.” I paint the back of her throat with my final spurt, tugging myself free of her mouth, stopping to rub some remaining semen on her parted lips. “Am I to pray to your sweet mouth from now on? Is this my new lord and savior?”
“Yes,” she breathes, kissing my tip, her eyes brimming with promise. With a touch of the devil…and we both have it in us, don’t we? Dark sexuality…but only for each other. We’re bound by a powerful lust for one another and now that I’ve kissed her, now that I’ve encountered the pleasures of the flesh firsthand, as has Farrah, I fear one taste will not be enough.
The monsignor’s voice grows louder in the hallway. Closer.
Farrah and I don’t break eye contact with we both work to fasten my pants, engaging my belt in its buckle. Then she climbs back onto my lap, our mouths seeking and sinking into one final, breathless kiss, before the monsignor reenters the office, his assessing gaze darting to us where Farrah straddles me in the chair.
“Now. Stand up, Father McDaniel.” His voice snaps like a whip. “Prove that you are unmoved by her ripe, young body. Prove that your body hasn’t hardened in order to mate with her on that very chair.”
Farrah pushes back on my thighs and stands up, bowing her head forward. “I do not tempt him, Monsignor,” she says softly, the firelight outlining her mostly nude figure. Damn, she looks amazing. It’s everything I can do not to wrap her in my arms and praise her, learn all the places she enjoys being touched. Make vows to her. Vows that would mean violating the ones I’ve already taken. More than I already have, that is. “He remains soft.”
My legs are still unsteady from the king’s treatment I received from Farrah’s mouth, but I stand up, as well, loath to lie, but having no choice but to do so if I want to remain a member of the priesthood. This is where I belong. I’ve known that truth since I was a boy, covering my ears while women screamed and bed springs groaned in my parents’ bedroom. The look of continual horror on my mother’s face.
I look away while the Monsignor crosses the room to examine the crotch of my pants, my temper stirring at the indignity.
He hums in his throat. “It appears you passed the first test, Father McDaniel.” He splits an ominous look between the two of us. “The next one will not be so easy.”