Sweetest Sin: A Forbidden Priest Romance (16 page)

I studied her,
from her quivering lips, the graceful slope of her shoulders, the taut and
aching tightness of her nipples…

The slim waistline
and perfect navel…

The flare of her
hips.

And her spread
thighs, legs on either side of me, exposing the beautiful, slickened, dark
petals that called to me for another touch, a taste, a moment of unrepentant
sin.

But this wasn’t my
challenge.

This was the
beginning of her newfound strength.

“You are stronger
than your lust,” I said.

Honor nodded, her
words soft. “I know, Father.”

“My brave angel.”

I touched her
then, my flesh against hers. She slickened for me, so wet and hot. I feared I’d
be lost within that very same temptation which weakened her body for the mounting
it craved.

She trembled for
me. I stared into her eyes while my fingers teased and prodded within the
molten velvet of that forbidden pleasure.

Her jaw
immediately tightened, and her breath held. Every strike of my fingers, every
little tease of my hand cupped those perfect folds and drove her higher,
harder, weaker against my touch.

I’d never felt
such…
softness
. I stroked her petals, delighting in how silken her body
melted. Even this inexperienced virgin, betrayed by her need and the lusts of
the man controlling her, instinctively wetted for sin. Every curve of her flesh
and sensual swelling of her slit directed my fingers low, to the slickness of her
entrance.

Where we’d lose
both our souls in a moment of rutted perfection.

“Father…it’s hard
to…”

Honor could no
longer speak. Her delight hurt me as well. My cock throbbed, hardened within
the beautiful vulgarity of her exposed body. Her stomach tensed, undulating
with every flinch of her suffering body.

She fought the
pleasure.

Her body ached,
arched, wetted.

Offered for me.

She almost
faltered. Her breath caught, and my fingers pinched the nub which controlled
her every gasp.

Her eyes closed,
and she sweated. Twisted.

Begged.

“Oh, God…” Her
soft cry pleaded such a beautiful song. “Need to stop…”

Higher, higher.
More and more. Such glorious resistance deserved praise.

And such beautiful
agony deserved the destruction of both our souls.

I pulled from her
slit as her voice trembled too much. She cried out as my hand left that
sanctifying heat.

I panted my own
breath, filled with the warmth, the slickness, and the delicious scent of her.

My thoughts turned
to sin—darkness, sweetness, and wine. Honor struggled to hide herself again,
but I had yet to memorize every forbidden curve of her body.

“You’re cruel,”
she whispered.

“And you’re
stronger than you believed.”

The cake waited
for us. I picked another piece within my fingers, pinched tight, just as if I
offered her the Host.

She accidentally
shivered, a shock of pleasure that stole her breath. The cake crumbled and fell
upon own chocolate skin.

It beckoned me.

Perverse. Lovely.

I lowered to her
chest, devouring the cake.

“This is my body…”
I whispered to her.

She murmured the
words. “Given for you.”

A dark, devious
sin twisted in our hearts. I reached for the goblet of wine. She waited,
believing I’d offer it to her.

I didn’t.

I dripped the
chilled wine over her heated body. Honor moaned. She arched into the coolness
of the wine, and it trailed over her beautiful curves.

This was the blood
I drank.

I loomed over her,
using my tongue to lap the dry wine from her delicious skin. The wine trickled
faster than I could drink. I chased, lower and lower, until it consecrated the
perfect petals between her legs.

The shadow of
temptation riled me. It pumped my cock and strained my body in sweated
resistance against everything my collar represented.

I tipped the
glass.

The splash of wine
centered over her perfect slit, exposed and wanting for more than the brush of
my fingers against that virtuous, damning core.

I closed my mouth
over the drips of wine, catching each beaded chill as they rolled over the
plumpness of her swollen petals.

And her sweetness
beguiled and enchanted every twist of my heart and throb of my cock.

Honor’s moan
turned to song.

My lips were once
cast in prayer. Now they formed sacred words eager to draw her uttered gasp of
glory.

My tongue was once
used to spread the divine mysteries. Now it explored the depths of hers.

My words were once
meant to preach. In my silence, I offered the blessing of her pleasure to us
both.

“Father, please…”
Honor couldn’t breathe. Her body wracked with a pained shudder that threatened
our very faith. “This is too much.”

I feasted upon
her, savoring the slickness as I lured more pleasure and pain from her. I
shared her anguish.

This suffering
must
have been holy. The denial of our body, our needs, our desires tortured our
instincts. I ached for mercy. I throbbed in my own masochistic delight.

My worthless body demanded
that I toss her upon the very ground we walked. If I let it control me, I’d
have rutted through that innocence for my own perverted satisfaction. I’d have
taken her as an animal. Rolled and sweated and coated her in wicked seed.

Ruined her.

Damned her.

Joined her.

I suckled upon
that nub of power. She liked that. Or maybe she didn’t. Her hips arched in
pleasure and bucked in panic. She tightened and begged against my mouth.

Pity I buried my
tongue within her, or I might have eased her with a gentle word.

“Father Rafe.”
Honor’s fingers tangled in my hair. I no longer knew if she pulled me away or
pushed me into her secret beauty. “
I’m too close
…”

The power surged
through me. I wanted to destroy her, and she’d have begged me to do it.

And that was the
reason I pulled away. Despite my own groan, despite losing myself within her
sweetness and tasting upon the most blessed and perfect pleasure, I retreated.

Defeated my
temptation.

Overcame my
desire.

And the pride
surged through me as my own release.

But Honor tumbled
to the floor. Quivering.
Weeping
.

She gripped the
hem of my cassock and shuddered.

“Please. Please.
Please.” Her words rasped into broken begging. “Father…I can’t…it’s too much.
Please.”

“My angel—”

“Just once.” Her
voice hardened. “If you don’t, I will.”

Three times I had
denied her. Was I cruel enough for a fourth?

Why did the sight
of a naked woman, stricken with lust, so please me? It was as if I knew she
would fail this test. Somehow, in my own wicked sin, I’d planned to wrench this
submission from her.

And that was my
sin. Not lust. Not adultery.

I hardened because
she submitted to me. I
made
her submit to me. I drove her into sin, and
I used her weakness to strengthen my own resolve.

It wasn’t fair to
leave the poor creature in pain.

I pulled her to
her feet, pinned between the counter and my body. Her nudity pressed against
the black robes, the eternal and ever vigilant armor I wore to protect me from
moments like these, temptations like her.

She cried in
relief as my fingers snaked back to her slit. I touched her again.

Her wetness guided
me, and I used a single finger to tease before finally sinking into her heated core.

Honor immediately
clenched around me.

Nothing prepared
me for that singular bliss. Her tightness yielded to my finger and brought such
pleasure from her breathless form. She arched into me, crying out as my thumb
struck her swollen, desperate nub.
There
was a temptation, the way it so
secretly and lovingly tucked within her folds. It was a lure, a bait. My lips
had captured it, and she rewarded me with a sweet cream.

If only I had
tasted more—where my finger now buried.

If only I might
have come with her.

“Once, Honor,” I
ordered. “Just once. And then you will repent for it.”

Honor came in
sobbing relief. She gripped my body, my cassock, anything and everything which
grounded her to earth and not the heavens above or the hells below.

Her core clenched my
finger, pulsing with sensual, painful contractions of her body as the sin imprisoned
her within desire.

Or maybe it wasn’t
sin.

Honor surrendered
to something beautiful. The gratitude she uttered, her shudders, and the
sobbing pleasure didn’t create anything dark and unholy.

She came, and the
curves of her skin bathed in a rich heat. Her silken delight pulsed and wetted
as a halo of comfort cradled her.

Beautiful.

Was that how it
would feel?

Heaven on earth? A
quiet peace between two people?

Or was it a dark
shame of submission, aggression, and conquering?

I didn’t trust her
to stand on her own. I set her upon the counter once more, covering her
shivering body with the dress I so carelessly tossed away. She swallowed, her
eyes glassy and relaxed.

“Forgive me,
Father.” She tugged the hem low. “I…”

“This is why you
were sent to me.” I didn’t let her speak, wouldn’t let her feel ashamed of that
most wondrous and amazing moment that transformed her before me. “I am meant to
care for you, Honor. I will teach you to control this desire…and you will help
to defeat mine.”

“How?”

I had no idea. I
could think no farther, no deeper, than my own lust. My cock strained, envious
of my hand for bringing her to that angelic peak.

“We pray,” I
whispered. “So that we go no further than this.”

“And if we can’t
resist?”

“Then I will
resist for us, my angel.”

Because I could.
Because I had no choice.

Because our souls
depended on me.

And that
responsibility, that
pride
, hardened me as much as my name whispered
upon her lips.

The confessional
was both a loathsome and amazing place.

Most people
misunderstood its purpose—here was where we confessed our sins to a priest, a
man afforded the same blessings as Christ offered his disciples. With his help
and guidance, we were forgiven and our souls cleansed.

But I still never
liked it. Not when I was a child confessing to simple annoyances, and not when
I became a woman and first admitted my desires for an untouchable man.

What should have
been a cherished moment of spirituality was tarnished with the mortal
complication of shame.

But I understood
why Father Raphael wanted to meet in the safety of the confessional. It was a good
place to talk. Private.

Father Raphael had
extended the reconciliation hours, but no one came to take advantage of the
sacrament. I waited in the vestibule until I was certain we’d be alone. This
was not a conversation others needed to hear.

I nudged the sanctuary
door closed as I passed. It clattered shut; the hinges squealing as the
lumbering door groaned against the frame.

He waited for me
inside the booth. I crossed myself by habit and sat on the bench instead of the
kneeler.

Father Raphael
waited, silent and overwhelming, as always.

His stillness waged
war with my thoughts, and the quiet muffled my voice. I shivered, a good and
wicked shiver, as if his touch still lingered on my body.

I’d missed his
kiss.

“Hi.” I greeted
him in a whisper, licking my lips though my mouth had gone dry. I breathed deep
just to tease myself with his scent. “I got your message.”

“Honor.” His voice
retained a seriousness. No smiles from my priest today. “I’m glad you came.”

So was I, but I
doubted he meant it in the vulgar way my mind corrupted his words. I tucked my
hand in my lap.

“I’m not sure what
to say to you,” I said. “I didn’t know what to do with myself today.”

“Why?”

“After what
happened last night…” I cleared my throat. “We needed to talk.”

“I agree.”

“Don’t get me
wrong. Last night was something amazing.” I loathed the word, but why lie after
committing other sins? “I got home, and I hadn’t slept that well in months.”

“Honor.”

I figured he’d be
stern with me, but I knew what I had done and how terrible it was. I bowed my
head. “I’ll guard myself better next time, Father.”

“Of course you will.”
His words brimmed with praise, and I let them hum over me, delighting me in the
electric tickles of his warmth. “I’ll hear your confession now.”

The warmth
dissipated, and a cold shock nearly snapped my spine.

“
What
?”

Father Raphael didn’t
apologize. “Your confession, Honor. Let me hear it, we’ll pray, and then we’ll begin
again.”

“Are you…? Oh my
God. You’re serious.”

“Don’t take the
Lord’s name in vain.”

Like
that
was the problem now. “You want me to
confess
?”

“Sit, Honor,” he
ordered. I ignored it. “This was my fault. I led you into that sin, and I
encouraged the lust that controlled you. Once you confess, you’ll be forgiven,
and we’ll work harder next time. I
will
protect you.”

Shame was a
gut-punch, but this knocked me out. Nothing was more dehumanizing than
apologizing for my desire.

Except him
assuming I needed some sort of guardian.

“Do you really
think you have to
protect
me?”

“Yes.”

“You think I can’t
resist temptation on my own?”

He was silent. I
gritted my teeth.

“Father, what
happened last night was not a failure of my
faith
or
spirit
. It
was a natural reaction of my body. I couldn’t have stopped it.”

“You asked for it,
Honor.” I heard the curled edge of his words, whispered in a proud smirk.

“And
you
gave in. You didn’t stop. You helped me.”

“I am not your
enemy.”

“I never said you
were.”

“Why are you
upset? I’m here to help you.”

Then why did he
sound so…

Smug
.

“Why do you want
me to confess? Do you want to hear me beg for forgiveness like I begged to—”

I couldn’t say the
word.

Father Raphael sighed.
“Consider this your…second original sin. I will cleanse it, and you’ll learn
from me how to combat these urges.”

“Because
you
fought them last night.”

“Yes.”

“And that wasn’t
your kiss last night?” I hissed the words. “That wasn’t you hand-feeding me
cake? Tasting me. Pleasuring me?”

“It was, yet I
resisted the urge to take you.”

“You were ready
too, Father. Ready and panting and just as desperate as me.”

“But I didn’t lose
control.”

Again, that tone. A
sanctimonious arrogance shadowed his words in a false halo of purity.

I knew what this
was now. Why he invited me to the confessional. Why he twisted my words and prided
himself when I failed to combat my desires.

“You think you’re
stronger than me,” I said. “You think you’re
better
at this—like either
of us have any idea what we’re doing together.”

“Honor—”

I heard the
amusement that time. Father Raphael took
pleasure
in his game.

And it ended now.

I slid from the
bench and burst from the confessional, but I didn’t leave the church. I aimed
for the compartment where he waited for me. I yanked the door open.

“Strictly
speaking…” Father Raphael gestured to his side of the confessional. “You aren’t
supposed to be in here.”

“Then I’ll have to
confess for that too, won’t I?”

The door slammed
behind me, and I stared at this man in the dark and quiet. He placed his Bible
on the bench beside him. His eyes flashed, and his brow furrowed. Stubble
darkened his chin, the strength of his jaw.

Why was a man this
handsome a priest?

And why did a
priest control so much of my desire?

Why wasn’t he as
desperate and destroyed as me?

“Say it,” I said.
“Tell me you think you’re
better
than me.”

“I never said
that.”

“Then what is it
you believe?”

He shrugged, but
even the lift of his shoulders accompanied some twisted delight.

“We’re playing a
dangerous game,” he said.

“I thought it was
a test of our faith.”

“It is. The
greatest test.”

I frowned. “And I
failed?”

“Isn’t that why
you confessed your feelings and desires here only a few weeks ago?”

My neck prickled,
the hair raising in impatient fury. “Don’t pretend you weren’t suffering too.”

“I’m in control of
my desires, Honor.”

“It’s easy when
you aren’t being challenged.”

He smiled, and the
flick of his lips both tormented and teased me. “My angel, you were naked,
quivering, and begging for me last night. We embraced in the privacy of my
home, where I might have taken you, ruined you, and sated myself. I am a
priest, but I’m also a man. Believe me. That was my greatest challenge.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

He leaned forward,
his forearms resting on his knees. His words were calm and infuriating.

“It’s okay to feel
confused, Honor.”

“Don’t you
dare
patronize me.”

I should have left
then. Should have wadded up what was left of my pride and stormed out until my
wounds healed and I learned from my horrible mistakes.

Instead, like a
fool, I faced the man who caused every shiver, every weakness, every doubt in
my soul.

“If the roles had
been reversed,
Father
, do you think you’d have resisted me?” I asked.
“If I fell to my knees here, right now, and pleasured you the way you pleasured
me—hands and mouth, lips and tongue—can you
honestly
say you wouldn’t have
committed same
sins
as I did?”

His expression
shifted, and the sculpted angles of his face were lost to the shadow of the
confessional. He stiffened, in more ways than one.

“That won’t be
necessary,” he said. “You’ve proved your point.”

“But I haven’t.
You won’t understand until you realize how impossible it is to resist someone
who
wants
to give you pleasure.
You
did this to me last night,
and you deserve to see how it feels when someone chastises you for it.”

“Now you
want…retribution?” He laughed. “Revenge?”

I didn’t know what
possessed me. I dropped to my knees right there in the confessional. My breath hitched
as I struck the wood, but his wide eyes encouraged me.

“You wanted to
prove we could resist temptation,” I said. “I want to prove neither of us have
any control over it.”

His voice lowered.
“And how will you prove this?”

“The same way you
did it to me.”

He watched with
amusement as I cursed the insane amount of buttons securing his cassock, but he
chuckled and helped to move aside the bulky robe. I stared at the pants
beneath. Of
course
he’d shield himself in another layer of material.

I had no idea what
I was doing, and the few instincts I possessed were the ones which had so
humiliated me last night. I’d practically begged for a man who took more joy in
the desperation he caused than the pleasure he offered.

Sadist. Villain.

Beautiful,
forbidden man.

I knew how a man
would like to be pleased. It didn’t take experience, only dedication.
Attention.

Adoration.

I reached for his
trousers, unfastening the button and drawing the zipper down. We tensed, amazed
by how close I knelt to that dark and powerful part of him. I met his gaze.
Unafraid.

I wasn’t
confessing until he sinned as well. I wouldn’t beg for absolution until he
realized whatever
control
he possessed was no more powerful, no more
righteous than mine.

And yet, I wasn’t
prepared for him.

I pulled his
hardness from his pants and nearly crossed myself.

God, be merciful
to me, a sinner…

I couldn’t grip
the entire width of his shaft. A timid tug on his flesh didn’t measure him in
estimated inches but stunned amazement. I blamed my virginity for not knowing,
not realizing, how
impressive
he could be.

This wasn’t his
manhood
.

This was a
cock
.

Thick and rigid
and pulsing in my hand with a rugged heat which might have scorched my skin.

For so long, I
thought the collar around his neck made his decisions and guided his life. Had
I realized the collar was simply a way to bind the animalistic aspect of him, I
might’ve respected the cassock more.

“Oh, God, Father. Why
did you join the
clergy
?”

Father Raphael shuddered.
His words were dark.

“It’s a blessing
and a curse. Mostly a curse.”

“No…” My mouth
watered. “It’s beautiful.”

I squeezed it,
watching as this powerful, intimidating man flexed his hips. The motion drove the
shaft deeper into my hand.

“You’ve made your
point, Honor,” he warned.

“I haven’t.” Was
it pride or selfishness speaking now? “Not until you feel the same desperation
I suffered yesterday.”

“Every day I
experience that ache, my angel.”

“And what if I
relieved it for you, like you did for me?”

“I won’t allow it.”

“Why?”

His cock hardened.
The head, thick and pulsing, begged for the same attention he’d offered me.

“I’m protecting
myself. My vows. My calling. My morals.” Father Raphael met my gaze. “Take your
pick of all or any.”

“Don’t you think I
suffered the same conflicts yesterday?” I asked.

“I know you did.”

“Then what’s the difference
between us?”

He leaned back,
watching as my fingers timidly squeezed over his flesh.

“I can stop
myself,” he said.

“Are you so sure?”

He waved a hand,
so subtle and quick had I not been staring at this amazingly frustrating man,
I’d have missed his permission.

His
challenge
.