Nick
The good news is I didn't combust into flames when I stepped into the church building.
Bad news? My presence ignited a cascade of sideways looks and whispers directed at Leah.
But she doesn’t flinch or acknowledge them. Nope, my strong woman gives them kindness they sure as hell don’t deserve, offering warm smiles and friendly hellos as we pass.
The children are a different story. Several of them barrel down the aisle, pure excitement on their faces as they throw their arms around her. Leah lights up as she crouches to greet them.
The sanctuary is divided into three sections of pews with two aisles running between them.
A balcony stretches across the back wall, offering several more rows of seating.
A wooden pulpit stands at the center of a wide stage toward the front, with choir risers situated behind it.
Musicians are set up off to one side alongside a collection of singers, including Leah’s brother.
Above it all, proudly displayed, is a massive floor-to-ceiling stained-glass window. Sunlight spills through panes of deep blue, red, and gold surrounding a cross at its center. Below it is some kind of recessed pool built into the wall, empty at the moment.
Suddenly, the lights dim as the music swells.
“Good morning, family,” Matt bellows, his booming enthusiasm a far cry from the man I met at the hospital. “Let’s honor God in our time of worship! Sing with me!”
The band launches into a song as colored lights and lasers sweep across the sanctuary.
Am I at a rave?
She gives me an innocent shrug as we remain standing, then turns toward the stage, swaying beside me as she joins everyone in song.
After worship and a prayer about “preparing our hearts,” Leah’s dad steps behind the pulpit. Now that I’m seeing him up close, there’s no question where Matt came from. The man is practically his blueprint.
I rest my hat on my knee, trying to pay attention, but honestly, I'm so distracted by everything. The soft murmur of two women behind me catches my attention.
“Do you think Declan knows she’s seeing someone?”
“Maybe that’s why they didn't work out.”
“I certainly didn’t see this coming.”
“Neither did I. Leah always seemed like such a good girl.”
One of them hums in agreement.
“Well, at least he’s handsome.”
A soft giggle. “Oh, he’s more than handsome.”
“Still.” A disappointed sigh follows. “What a letdown.”
My jaw tightens as I watch Leah’s shoulders deflate. Her brave smile stays intact, but I know her well enough to see the hurt she’s trying so damn hard to swallow.
I can't just sit here.
I turn in my seat. “For the record,” I whisper, “I appreciate the handsome vote. The rest could probably wait until Leah’s out of earshot.” I wink before shifting back around and wrapping my arm around Leah’s shoulders.
She scoots closer, patting my thigh as she beams up to me. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“I figured flogging fellow parishioners would be frowned upon.”
She giggles, relaxing into my side.
The final amen rolls through the sanctuary before the band carries everyone into one last song. By the time the last chord fades, people are already spilling into the aisles, collecting purses and Bibles while conversations rise around us.
Leah barely makes it three feet before someone catches her.
I hang back as she hugs an older couple, answers questions from one of the kids who found her earlier, and promises another woman she’ll call her sometime this week.
Every few steps, somebody else stops her.
She gives each of them the same attention, even the ones who were staring when we walked in.
While she’s occupied, I tip my head back. The sanctuary has more lighting fixtures than I noticed earlier, several mounted along tracks overhead with others positioned around the stage.
“Pretty extravagant, huh?” Leah rejoins me, nodding to the ceiling.
“It's something, that's for sure. Do they only host the one service in here, and then that's it? No more church?”
“Here in the sanctuary? Pretty much. They have two morning services, Sunday night service, and then Wednesday night service.”
“Jesus … shit—I mean, not shit. Damn it.” I rub the back of my neck.
A humored Leah covers her mouth.
I continue. “Are there other, like … committees or groups? Like isn't there Sunday School?”
“Yep. They meet in classrooms around the building. Would you like a tour?”
I tuck my hat beneath my arm. “Am I allowed? Don't I need to be sworn in or wear special under garments?”
She laugh, shaking her head. “So we're not Mormon. And no, you don't need to take an oath to see the building.” She reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. “C’mon, Cowboy.”
I let her lead me toward a side door near the stage, watching the last few people disappear into the foyer behind us.
“Does this tour include the mysterious empty swimming pool?”
She looks over her shoulder. “You mean the baptistry?”
My eyes blink in surprise. “I have been on this planet for forty years, and I'm fairly certain I have never heard that word.”
She chuckles. “It's where we baptize people. We fill it with water and dunk ‘em.”
“So it is a pool.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let's go.”
Leah guides me around the campus, showing me the choir room, nursery, children’s wing, and a state-of-the-art sound booth. There’s even a soundproof room for new mothers who want to stay close to the service without a crying baby becoming part of the sermon.
Eventually, she leads me through another door. “And this—” Leah dramatically sweeps her arm inside—“is your swimming pool.”
I laugh as I follow her onto a narrow platform lined with coat hooks. A set of stairs descends into the empty basin, which is surprisingly small, maybe the size of two hot tubs pushed together.
“Huh.”
“Impressed?” She looks out into the sanctuary, the lights now turned off and most of the pews sitting empty below us. Without the music, flashing lights, and hundreds of people filling the room, the place feels completely different from up here.
“Deeply.”
I’m about to give her more shit when I turn around, and the words die on my tongue.
Up here, we’re practically face-to-face with this stained-glass window.
From the pews, it was impressive. Standing this close, it’s enormous, stretching high above us in panes of cobalt blue, crimson, amber, and gold, all arranged around the cross at its center.
Sunlight pours through the glass and washes the little space in color, catching across Leah’s face as she watches me take it in.
“Jesus …” I blink. “I mean—”
“Literally.” She points at it.
I whistle, stepping closer to see the etching and design. “I'm sure this was a pretty penny.”
Chewing on her lip, she slowly nods. “Half a million dollars.”
My head whips toward her. “For a window? Who pays for that?”
“The offering plate.”
I stare up at it again. “So somebody drops twenty bucks in the plate thinking they’re feeding the homeless, and instead they’re buying Jesus a five-hundred-thousand-dollar window?”
“To be fair, they're pretty transparent about they're spending.”
“I mean, they'd have no choice. Look at the size of this thing.” My finger touches the solder lines. “Do you think Jesus would want something like this?”
Leah sighs. “Jesus preached wherever people were. Boat docks. Hillsides. The desert. People’s homes.” She looks up at the window. “He spoke against greed and cared a whole lot more about a giving heart than appearances. This?” She shakes her head. “It doesn't seem like something he'd want.”
“Hrm.” I study the baptistry. “So how does this actually work?”
“You’ve never seen someone baptized?”
“Not from the splash zone.”
Laughing, she motions toward the center. “Okay, get down.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re too tall. Get on your knees.”
I obey, mostly because I’m curious where the hell she’s going with this.
“Normally there’s water, obviously.” She steps behind me, placing one hand against my back. “Then whoever’s baptizing you asks something like—” she drops her voice several octaves—“‘do you believe Jesus died for your sins?’”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Stop. I’m being serious.” She fights a smile as she reaches around me. “Then I’d have you hold your nose, support you here, and lower you backward into the water.”
“You’d drown me.”
“I’d bring you back up.”
“Why do I feel like I'm drinking the Kool-aid?”
She pinches my nose between her fingers. “Ready?”
Before I can answer, she starts tipping me backward.
Her boot slips against the smooth floor, and she loses her balance with a startled yelp. I grab for her waist on instinct, but my weight is already shifting backward, taking both of us with it.
I hit the floor first, and Leah lands across my chest with a squeal before laughter bursts out of her.
“The Lord knew,” I joke.
She’s still laughing when I brush the hair from her face, and somewhere between one breath and the next, her smile softens.
Then she leans down and kisses me.
My fingers comb into her hair as I sit up, pressing my lips harder against hers. She answers with the same hunger, gripping my shoulders as the kiss turns breathless, her soft laugh disappearing against my mouth when we nearly lose our balance again.
She climbs onto my lap, straddling my hips as my arm snakes around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. Her hair brushes my cheeks as she kisses me, and I swear I can feel her everywhere—the warmth of her body, the quick rise and fall of her breathing, the way her fingers curl against the back of my neck.
My cock quickly swells against my jeans, Leah clearly feeling it. Her hand slides between us, palming me through the fabric, stroking with a confidence that makes my vision blur.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Leah—” I hiss, breaking the kiss. My hand stops her wrist. “Jesus is literally right there.” I jerk my chin toward the stained-glass window towering above us.
She follows my gaze, then looks back at me, a wicked smile curling her mouth.
“Now you want to be obedient?” she teases, rolling her hips against me.
“Leah,” I growl, gripping her chin and forcing her eyes to mine. “Are you sure? Here?”
She steals my cowboy hat, placing it on her head. “Take me for a ride, Cowboy.”
“We have to be quiet," I warn. “Can you do that darlin’? You think you can take my fat cock in church and not scream?”
She nods, reaching for my belt.
Our hands fumble together as we unfasten my jeans. I tug my boxer briefs down just enough to free myself. My cock springs forward, thick and heavy, slapping against my stomach.
Leah's eyes go wide, her hand wrapping around me before I can stop her.
“Fuck …” I murmur, my head falling back against the baptistry stairs. “That's it. Stroke me. Get this cock ready for your tight pussy.”
She works me with both hands, her fingers barely closing around my girth, her thumb spreading the bead of wetness at my tip. I watch her through hooded eyes, watch her fascination and hunger, and I know I won’t last if she keeps this up.
“Enough,” I growl, gripping her hips and lifting her. I shove her dress up around her waist, and fidget with her stockings. Growing impatient, I reach between her legs and find the seam. Hooking my fingers into the thin fabric, I pull until the material splits with a satisfying rip.
“Nick …” she gasps.
“Get up here, and ride this cock.”
She positions herself above me, her hand guiding me to her entrance. And fuck, she's is dripping
So swollen.
So mine.
She slowly sinks down inch by inch, her breath catching at the stretch as her hand holds the cowboy hat in place.
“Look at you, stuffing yourself. You want it all, darlin’?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, her body trembling. “Please … Nick—”
I thrust up, hard and sudden, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke.
She screams.
My hand flies to her mouth, clamping over her lips.
“Shhh,” I snarl against her ear, my hips already moving, lifting her and slamming her back down. “You gotta be quiet, darlin’ … unless you want others to hear the good little pastor's daughter get fucked—”
She clenches around me.
I choke out a moan, trying hard not to come yet.
Leah flashes me a mischievous grin as I narrow my eyes.
My hand yanks down her dress, exposing her perfect breasts, her hard, pink nipples begging to be touched. I lean up, capturing one in my mouth and sucking hard. My teeth grazes the sensitive flesh as she whimpers.
“Milk me, darlin’,” I command, my voice muffled against her breast. “Bounce on my cock and show me you want it.”
With her hands braced on my shoulders, she finds her rhythm, her knees spread wide on the smooth floor. She rises and falls, up and down, her pussy gripping me so tight.
I release her nipple with a wet pop. Pressing my face between her tits, they bounce against my cheeks as she impales herself on my length.
Her movements grow faster, her hips grinding harder.
I groan, my head falling back to watch her. “Fuck, darlin’, look at you stretched around my cock.”
With desperate thrusts, her walls tighten, her orgasm building. “Touch me,” she gasps.
I don’t hesitate. My hand slides between us, my thumb finding her clit, pressing firm circles that make her jolt and cry out. “Like this?” I growl, my voice strained, my hips thrusting up to meet her downward grind.
“Yes—yes—” she sobs, the tension coiling tight in her body, her pussy gripping me like a vice with every stroke.
She’s close—so fucking close.
“Come for me,” I command, my thumb working her faster, harder. “Now, darlin’. Let go."
She breaks, her body convulsing, her mouth opening in a scream I can’t let escape. I surge up, my hand clamping over her lips, muffling her cries as her orgasm rips through her. She’s shaking, trembling, her walls milking my cock with rhythmic pulses that destroy my restraint.
“Fuck …” I groan against her neck, my hips snapping up once, twice, burying myself to the hilt as I spill into her. I come hard and long, pulsing endlessly, flooding her with everything I have, my hand still pressed over her mouth, feeling her ragged breath hot against my palm.
She falls forward into my chest as I lay us back on the baptistry stairs, both of us gasping and coming down from the edge. I slowly remove my hand from her mouth, my fingers tracing her jaw, her swollen lips.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, my voice wrecked, my cock still throbbing inside her.
She doesn’t answer immediately. She shifts slightly, wincing at the sensitivity, and then she does something that makes my heart flip—she presses her hand to her lower belly, rubbing slow circles, and she laughs. The sound is breathless, giddy, utterly satisfied.
"Very full," she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief, her cheeks flushed pink. "You filled me up, Cowboy. I can feel you everywhere."
I groan, my arms tightening around her waist, holding her flush against me. "Good," I murmur into her hair, my lips finding her temple. "That’s exactly where I want to be. Stay just like this."