Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
The unfazably frigid priest was gone, and in his place was a feral, ravenous, vengeful god hell-bent on punishing my ass. He grunted through every hit, his teeth clenched and bared, and the sounds of his breathing so heavy and fast he drowned out the music.
I’d never heard or seen a man so worked up. And I was the source of that. The fuel for his fire. I was freeing him.
It did something to me. Called to me. Shook me like an awakening.
As the shock from the pain subsided, my mind began to calm. My limbs loosened, and I relaxed into the belt that rained down on my flesh.
Trickles of liquid heat pooled between my legs, opening the muscles and rippling through me in heavy pulses of need. I adjusted my hips, positioning my clit against the edge of the desk. With each driving blow from the strap, I let my body rock, grinding that bundle of nerves against the hard surface.
As the music climbed, his strikes came harder and faster, and everything increased in intensity—my hunger, my trembling, my pleasure. I rose to the precipice, reaching.
Until the belt hit the floor.
A heartbeat later, he was on me, stretched over my back and hauling my pussy away from the desk, denying me that friction.
“You will not come.” He ruthlessly kicked my feet apart as if he didn’t so much as want my thighs clenching the spot where I ached.
His cock lay along the crevice of my buttocks, rock-hard and miles long, straining behind his zipper. He felt huge, monstrous, throbbing to get inside me.
I wriggled my ass.
He fisted my hair and yanked my head to his shoulder with such viciousness I thought my neck might break. His teeth pressed against my cheek, his lips pulling back and his breaths lashing like an inferno blowing through the gates of hell.
His muscles were coiled, his entire body flexing against me. Or away from me. He was fighting demons.
“Leave.” His hand tightened in my hair, at odds with his hoarse command. “You must go.”
Trapped beneath him, I didn’t have many options. Leaving wasn’t one of them.
I angled my neck, struggling against his hold so I could see his face. When I finally turned enough, when I met his stark gaze, my heart stopped.
A blood vessel throbbed in his brow. Guilt etched his beautiful features. And the pain in his eyes…it devastated me. It wrenched open the door to my soul and stuffed every useless corner with self-loathing and regret.
Magnus was never going to expel me.
And he never wanted to want this.
When it came down to it, after he fucked me, what was I going to do? Would I actually report him? Get him fired? Arrested? Or, the most likely scenario, murdered by my family?
The song ended, and silence assailed, magnifying the harshness of our breaths.
I glanced at the door. It was locked, but I knew from experience that if someone pressed their ear against it, they would hear our conversation.
“Magnus.” I twisted beneath him, swiveling my hips to sit on the edge of the desk.
The action cost me, dragging unbearable pain through my abused backside.
With his legs imprisoning mine, he loosened his grip on my hair but didn’t back away. Instead, he pressed in, his chest heaving, our foreheads touching. He smelled like man and God and war.
The war was still waging. Clashing and burning behind his eyes. I’d sensed his internal struggle so many times before and pressed on with my selfish agenda anyway.
I was the biggest asshole of all.
As part of my religious training over the past six weeks, I’d received the sacraments of Baptism and Confession. I’d fought the whole process in my usual way, going so far as refusing to sit in that creepy dark closet and talk about my sins.
But right now, I felt guilty. I was sick to the pit of my soul with guilt.
It was time to confess.
With a shaky hand, I reached up and rested my fingers against his steely jaw. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession.”
His breath left him.
“I tried to seduce a priest.” I licked my lips, inches from his. “It was selfish. Vindictive. I want to go home and thought only of my needs, not once considering what would become of him if I succeeded.”
“Is there anything else?” His voice dipped, gruffly sexy and thick with desire.
“I cuss every day and masturbate every night.”
“Tinsley…” He groaned.
“I shouldn’t have said that last part, even if it’s true.” I sighed against his mouth, savoring his heat, his delicious dark scent. “I have a lot of sins, Father. I’m sorry for some of them.”
“Only some?”
“Not gonna lie.”
“You rarely do.” The hand in my hair went slack, his fingers sliding downward to linger along my jawline, caressing. “You’re the most honest person I know. Except for maybe Crisanto.”