Page 53 of Savior

I tiptoe across the house, wincing once when the old floorboards of the rectory creak under my weight.

I freeze like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house.

When I reach the door frame, I halt.

The lightest gasping and the softest blissful whimpers greet my ears, and I grip either side of the doorframe in my hands. I swear I hear the wood bend under my hold.

I know I shouldn’t, but I remain there.

As my eyes adjust, I watch as she writhes under the covers. Her eyes are pinned closed, her legs bent and spread open, and one of her hands toys with her dusk-colored nipple as the other is hidden from view.

But I know where it is.

She startles and pauses her machinations when she sees my shadow in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she rasps, and it damn near breaks me the way she said my title.

I’ve never wanted someone to repeat it more in my life than I do right now.

I’d align myself with the Devil to hear her call me father in that sinful tone just one more time.

“I should’ve shut the door, but I…”

But she, what?

Did she want me to find her here, riding her hand? Had the door being open and my proximity looming added to her pleasure?

“Continue,” I say, and I don’t mean to say it aloud.

She doesn’t move for a minute, only stares through the dark at me.

What happens next will change everything. We both know it. She seems like the struggle is too much, and she can’t decide. Her frozen body still breathes heavily under the decision, and I’m right there with her, but mine is easy. I know I would do anything for her. I’ve already proved that even if it’s mind-boggling. I don’t have a choice. I need to know what she sounds like when she comes.

“In the name of all that’s holy, continue,” I beg.

My body, which I’d only just gotten under control, has risen to the occasion again, but I choose to ignore it.

What I can’t choose to ignore, however, is that she’s naked and touching herself under that blanket.

There’s no earthly way I can turn around and return to my room. When I thought of myself as a devout, mighty man of God before, Sloane barrelled into my life like an F-5 tornado and proved otherwise.

She’s worked up because of earlier, and the knowledge that her seeing me hard excited her and has me giddy with an energy that’s difficult to ignore.

A better man would walk away from this door, and I find I’m not that man.

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned,” she moans, and I nearly buckle in on myself to the floor.

“Continue,” I manage.

“I’ve thought of little else than you in the last few days.”

I clear my throat as I watch her arch off the bed, the blanket dropping to her navel. Her breasts are full and free, pressing upward as she slips her fingers in and out of her body.

“And these thoughts were distasteful?” I ask her.

She moans, and I swear I hear angels cry out above me. “In the worst way. I’ve thought of you kneeling before me, your tongue on my pussy…” As she increases her pace, a breath cuts off her words, and I’m hanging on the cliff, waiting for the rest.

“Go on,” I tell her, gripping the doorframe tighter so my hands don’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t go.

---