Chapter 5 Pater Noster #3
‘Jesus Christ.’ He glances heavenward, but it seems God’s in the mood to let his faithful servant hang himself, because his gaze comes back to me and roves over my naked body.
My upturned face. ‘I’m going to come all over those glorious fucking tits, and you’re going to like it, you dirty little sinner. ’
My lips curve up into a triumphant smile. ‘Very good, Father.’
I grip his shaft harder. I arch my body this way and that, running his sensitised crown over my breasts.
My nipples. I swipe at it with my tongue as I work him in hard, decisive pumps.
The conflict on his beautiful face turns to anguish, then rapture, as he stiffens and groans and shoots his hot seed all over me.
I aim it between my breasts and it keeps on coming, spurting over my skin, trickling down my stomach, hitting my jaw, my hair.
I don’t take my eyes off him.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I lick his crown clean and slow my thrusts until I’m sure he’s spent.
Then I sit back on my heels, covered in his cum, and I smirk.
* * *
Fr Rafe grabs a throw from the bed and uses it to wipe his primal markings off my body in hasty, jerky movements. He doesn’t do a great job, but I couldn’t care less, because the predatory look in his eyes tells me he has far better treats in store for my body than cleaning it up.
‘Hands and knees,’ he croaks out hoarsely. ‘Edge of the bed.’
I don’t need to be told twice.
I hoist myself up and position myself on my hands and knees, facing away from him. This position puts my pussy on a platter for this beautiful man who’s now presumably damned to all eternity with me.
He’s on his knees on the hard floor in seconds.
It’s probably a position he’s found himself in countless times in countless churches, but now, instead of raising his face heavenward in supplication, he’s kneeling behind me and stroking the flesh of my bottom in wonder and pressing his nose to my cunt and inhaling like I’m the most intoxicating drug he’s ever encountered.
He parts my flesh and holds me open to him.
A pause.
Then mouth meets flesh, and I’m undone.
His tongue slices a straight line up my seam, from my clit to my entrance and back. The sensation is such a delicious blend of friction and slick ease, of reverence and downright filth, that I practically come on the spot.
‘Fucking hell,’ he groans against my pussy. ‘So fucking addictive. No wonder you’re dragging so many men to hell with you.’
‘I think I made it worth your while just now,’ I manage with difficulty.
A hand slides around me, caressing my stomach and pinching a nipple, while another finds my entrance. Two fingers ram inside, hard.
‘I’m in charge,’ he tells me. ‘You walked in here reeking of sin and pulling me under with you. Well, now I’m here and I’ve got you right where I want you. You’re fucking mine, do you hear?’
His fingers twist cruelly inside me as his tongue hits my clit, and I gasp in astonishment that sin can feel quite so sublime.
‘Yes, Father,’ I say.
‘I’m going to enthrall you and ravish you and violate you and claim you.’
Twist. Lick.
‘You think you need all these men to keep you satisfied? You don’t. You just need me and my fingers and my tongue and my dick.’
Lick.
Oh my God. I’m spiralling out of control, up and up into some celestial ecstasy.
‘You waltz into my confessional like the fucking queen of all that is forbidden and tempting, and you undo me, and I’m about to give you so much dick that I’ll have you writhing on this bed begging for sweet release like a sinner begging to be let into Heaven. Do you understand?’
Oh my God.
Yes.
Exactly this.
Jesus.
He’s hitting every spot in my head and on my body with his cruel fingers and clever tongue and taunting, intoxicating words.
‘I understand,’ I tell him. ‘I want—I need to come. I need your dick inside me right now.’
‘Fuck me,’ he grits out, and then his lips are sealing to my pussy and his tongue is swiping at my clit, up and down in rough, relentless strokes, and my orgasm hits me like a freight train, painting my world red as unimaginable flames of pleasure engulf my entire body.
He pulls away from me, and I twist my head, panting and bereft, and watch lasciviously the glorious view of Fr Rafe losing his priestly kit. Off comes the collar, and the shirt, and down come the trousers, and then he’s blurring as he closes the distance between us and stands behind me.
A hand comes to my hips and tugs me against him as he presses his gloriously blunt, warm crown to my entrance.
I’m still shuddering out the last of my orgasm as he breaches me in a single jagged drive, and holy fucking Lord, everything is now good with the world and the angels are singing their approval because this man is inside me and filling me up with no room to spare.
I groan, low and guttural, and push my bottom back against him. His answering groan is agonised. Carnal. He pulls out of me slowly, before sinking deeply, luxuriously, back inside me.
We both moan. Then there’s the low, familiar but unintelligible incantation of prayer.
‘Are you praying in Latin?’ I ask. ‘It’s a bit late to seek forgiveness.’
‘Trying to hold on,’ he grunts, and I shut up, because I don’t want to focus on anything that is not the slow drags of this man’s dick as it fills me up again and again.
His thrusts pick up pace. They grow impossibly deeper. His fingernails dig into the flesh of my hip. I lower myself onto my elbows and claw at the black sheets.
‘You seductress,’ he mutters as he thrusts.
‘Your body is so fucking luscious. So decadent. So intoxicating. I didn’t stand a chance.
I wanted my fingers twisting in your cunt the second I felt you kneeling next to me.
Jesus Christ. How our Lord can make a single human so fucking delicious, I do not know. ’
His hungry words spin me higher as his drives, profound and elemental, work their magic against the nerve endings hidden deep inside my body for him to find.
We’ve profaned a sacrament. We’ve sullied what should have been a sacred communion of two souls, dragged it down to the mud with us and transformed it into something base and primal.
In theory, anyway.
But I don’t know about the theory, because the practice, this, feels pretty fucking sacred to me. It feels transcendent and mystical and redemptive, as if our souls are simply communing in a way we can feel far more clearly than we can comprehend.
The dirtier he gets, the more crude his whispered curses and admonishments and extortions get, the more roughly he drags that great big dick of his in and out of me, the more I soar and unravel and transform.
And then that blunt, insistent crown provokes my front wall one time too many, and I break, grinding my bottom against his balls and my forehead against the mattress as I take and take and allow the unearthly pleasure to course over me in relentless waves.
I’m contracting around him when he comes emphatically inside me, pulsing and shuddering and crying out and stilling, his lips pressing urgent kisses along my spinal column as his hair brushes the thin skin of my back.
He pulls out of me and helps me down onto my back, tugging me into his arms.
‘I love you,’ my beautiful, depraved priest tells me between hungry kisses. I curl into him and smile against his lips like a cat. I’m spent and well-used and practically purring with satisfaction.
‘I love you too,’ I tell him. ‘Tell me you didn’t envision this when you were eyeing me up at Mummy’s party four years ago.’
His gaze moves lovingly from my face, over my breasts, and comes to rest on my stomach. On the part of my body that gave him a daughter. The skin there isn’t as smooth as I’d like, the muscle not as taut, but he doesn’t care as he strokes it reverently.
‘I didn’t dare dream about any of it,’ he says. ‘Apart from sliding my cock between those gorgeous lips, that is.’
I roll my eyes and pull him as close against me as I can get him. ‘Some things never change. I can’t believe you guys can still justify keeping this massive confessional knocking around.’
He smirks. ‘It gets a lot of use in this place. We started a trend, you know.’
I shrug. ‘I suppose so. Priest corrupts the innocent young penitent who rocks up in his confessional. It’s a hot scenario. It doesn’t get old.’
He massages my stomach tenderly. ‘Nothing innocent about you. And let’s get one thing straight. Tonight, you flat-out corrupted me.’