Chapter 20
TWENTY
Levi
I’m going to hell for this. Watching this sweet little nun work herself to the edge, knowing I'm the voyeur, is going to be the death of me. She’s perfect with my shirt around her hips, her cheeks flushed, and her pretty little pussy glistening as her fingers circle her clit.
There's just enough darkness in the room to cover the worst of our sins and just enough quiet that I can hear every breath and moan she makes.
When she comes, it’s going to kill me. I’ll wake up at the gates of hell. I can feel it. It’ll be worth it, though, for this, to finally have the real version in front of me so close to her own little death.
I’ve made her the center of every fucking fantasy I’ve had for weeks now.
Every single time I wrap my hand around my cock, it’s her in my head.
Imagining grabbing that wool skirt and bunching it up around her thighs so I could fuck her with my fingers while she bent over my lap and sucked me dry in the church pew after her confession.
Dragging her into the confessional so I could fuck her up against the wall.
Tying her up and spreading her thighs on that dorm-style bed of hers at the convent until I’ve eaten my fill.
If I tried to count the ways I wanted to corrupt that perfect little body before I sent her to her knees for atonement, we’d be here for days. If she knew how depraved I am, she wouldn’t be doing this for me.
I groan on the next pass. It rips out of my chest louder than I mean for it to, but it’s been too fucking long since I let myself have something.
I’ve been trying to stop since we came to the cabin, using the recordings as a kind of exposure therapy.
Listening but not touching. I’ve been too focused on trying to walk a line with her, flirting but nothing more.
Except the longer we’re stuck together like this, the more I feel like there’s an inevitable cliff we’re both about to fall off.
I glance over at her, and her fingers are soaked as she slips them in and out, using the heel of her hand to gently tease her clit.
Edging herself. She loves to draw things out, take her time.
She'd watch one video and get so close to coming, she’d whimper like she was in pain when she stopped.
She’d breathe deep, steadying breaths, and then she’d start again.
Slower the next time if her muted little moans were any indication.
I loved those nights. It felt like I got more time alone with her.
Like she was drawing it out just for me.
“Talk to me,” she whispers. “You’re so quiet.”
I swallow, my mouth dry and my tongue heavy as I imagine tasting her off her fingers like water in a desert.
“I’m just thinking about how long I’ve been wanting to watch you like this. You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe you’re real.” I worry telling her the truth will be too much for her, and I don’t want to ruin this, but I wish there were a way for her to know how singularly perfect she is.
“Me too. I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish I’d known you were thinking of me,” she confesses, and it reminds me how much more of her I’ve had in comparison. I know so many of her secrets, her intricacies, and she’s barely learning who I am outside of my lies. I owe her more than that.
“I’ve been thinking about you for weeks.
I can’t stop, not since that first night I was watching you through your phone.
Listening to you when you climbed under the covers to touch yourself.
The way you sound when you come—fuck!” I groan just thinking about it.
My cock is so fucking swollen, leaking from the tip as I try to hold off the inevitable.
I’m getting desperate. “Can you come for me, sweetheart? I want to hear you.”
“Okay,” she agrees easily. She lies back against the pillows again, spreading her legs a little wider for my benefit as her fingers slip through her wetness. The sound of it takes my fucking breath away, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself quiet. I don’t want to drown her out.
“It won’t take much,” she whispers. “I’m too close from listening to you.”
“Damn straight.” I flash her a prideful smile. Another sin for the pile because I'm practically gloating with the fact that this woman is going to come to the sound of me fucking my hand for her. I can only imagine how much harder she’d come riding me.
“Oh. Fuck. Oh.” She lets out little stuttered curses as her fingers work a tighter and tighter circle around her swollen clit, teasing herself one last time. “Oh my fucking god! Oh my god.” She cries out, gasping for breath, as she works the peak of her release right off the edge of the cliff.
I’m coming with her as I take a firmer grip on my cock, working it faster and using my forefinger to give myself pressure underneath my head.
I come hard, shattering on the edge of my orgasm and the sounds of her as she mutters soft little curses across from me.
It feels so fucking perfect after so many nights of taking myself close without any release.
Thinking of her without having her here.
I groan as I lean back against the arm of the couch, my eyes closed and my mind lost in a sea of infinite fucking perfection as the sounds of her start to fade softly, and her breathing begins to slow.
I just want to pull her against me and kiss my way over her skin.
Confess how much I want her even though I shouldn’t, as if that isn’t evident by the mess I’ve just made of myself. Of both of us, really.
“You’re really fucking gorgeous, Zephyrine.
I hope you know that. Everything about you.
Not just your face or your body. Your mind.
Your laugh. Your heart. Every little thing about you.
You’re literally what dreams are fucking made of.
” I say the words before I can stop myself. She deserves to hear them.
“I feel the same way about you,” she answers. “I’ve never done things like this. Wanted someone so much like this.”
Anyone else is a pale distant memory compared to the woman I have in front of me.
The woman I don’t deserve, no matter how much I might want her.
The act is so tame in comparison to things I’ve done, but it’s never felt this fucking raw and vulnerable.
Never as honest as it is right now with her.
I wonder if she really might be the death of me.
“I know,” is all I manage to say. I take a deep breath and then I stand, righting my clothes and tucking myself back in. I'll clean up in a few minutes, but I want her neatly tucked in her bed before temptation can creep back in.
I lean over and scoop her up from the couch. She doesn’t protest like I expect, wrapping her arms around my neck instead. I resist the thought that urges me to kiss her, reminding myself she’s forbidden fruit in every possible fucking way I could imagine.
“Do you think you can sleep now?” she asks.
“I hope so.” My body is exhausted, but my mind’s already whirring with all the newfound implications of what we’ve done.
“Do you want to sleep in here, with me?” she asks as I lay her down on the rumpled sheets she abandoned a short while ago. What if she never got up tonight? We’d never know now.
“I can’t.” My voice is rough when I answer her.
“Sweet dreams.” She doesn’t argue, and I’m grateful for it.
“Sweet dreams,” I agree. Ones so fucking sweet they’ve bled over into reality.