Page 56 of Of Angels & Absolution

He hesitates a long moment, and then he releases my hand. “I’m not able to relieve you of this craving. But someone will come if it is His will.”

“No,” I gasp out. “Not my brother. Please.”

“Your friend, then?” he asks. “You’d like Heath to join you?”

“No,” I cry, shaking my head. “I wantyou.”

“Put your hand in your panties again,” he commands, his voice sharper now, almost angry.

I don’t know what I did wrong, and I want to cry, but I bite my trembling lip and hold it back. If I obey, maybe he’ll be happy with me again, forget I touched him like that without permission, after he said he didn’t want me. Maybe I can please him if I submit to his demands, and he’ll forgive me. I can’t bear the thought of losing one more person, even if he was never really mine.

He watches while I obey, slipping my trembling fingers under the thin cotton fabric. He watches my hand move, its ministrations hidden from his view.

When the pressure inside me has built until I’m gasping for something I can’t find on my own, distracted by my own pleasure, he rolls his lips in, and I see the barest glimpse of his tongue dragging between them. The realization that he’s tasting me makes my hips buck, a fluttering ache stab into me so fiercely I cry out. The soft sound echoes through the church with my panting breaths.

“Bury your finger in your cunt,” he growls.

I obey, wincing at the ease with which I can slowly sink it inside myself, how wet I am, dripping for him. Ragged breaths tear from my open lips, my eyes rolling back with pure pleasure when I can’t go any deeper.

Suddenly, I hear the creak of old hinges, and the air sweeps over the sweat misting my skin, making me shiver. I yank my hand from my underwear, but Father Salvatore’s other hand pins mine to the back of the pew, silently commanding me to stay.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he says. “Come and take communion.”

I turn and find Angel, and a sick, guilty sense of relief sweeps through me when I remember how well he pleasured me in my room. Without a word, he strides down the aisles, slides into the pew with me, and lifts me. I cry out as I tip forwardwhen he lifts my hips higher, level with his shoulders. He swiftly lowers my panties, then deftly slides his arms between my thighs above the fabric as it binds my knees, and parts my legs wide. A loud groan echoes through the church, then breaks off suddenly when he buries his face in me.

Hot, rough pleasure slams into me. His sounds are muffled as they vibrate through my flesh, sending the most delicious shocks of ecstasy rippling through me. He moans again and again, his lips and tongue assaulting my overstimulated flesh. He’s not slow and gentle this time, not playful. His mouth moves with sure absolution, hungry and primal and fierce, leaving nothing untouched.

I cry out, gripping the pew in front of me to steady myself as he lifts my hips higher, dragging me harder against his face. His tongue probes at my entrance, and I whimper when the tip dips into me.

Father Salvatore’s hand closes over mine again, firm but warm, steadying me.

“This is God’s will for you, my lamb. Can you surrender to Him?”

“Yes,” I cry, my back arching, needing more even as I struggle to contain the bliss already wracking my body. “Please.”

Angel’s tongue plunges into me, stretching me, stretching to reach deeper. I try to close my thighs, but he pushes them wider, stabbing into me.

“Forgive me, Father,” I cry, tears filling my eyes as the pleasure builds higher, higher. It’s uncontainable, unbearable.

“Forgive you for what, my child?”

“For—for thinking my body wasn’t made for this.”

“What was it made for, lamb?”

“For you,” I say without a moment’s hesitation.

“For me?” he asks, brows drawing together. “For what purpose?”

“Anything,” I cry. “I’ll do anything you ask, anything you want. It feels so good.”

“My God,” he mutters under his breath like a curse.

“Tell me what to do,” I gasp out. “It’s all yours. My body is yours. Tell me what it needs.”

“Let go,” he coaxes. “Let him worship and awaken the divinity inside you.”

Angel’s tongue strokes relentlessly, driving into me in sensuous, rhythmic strokes. He growls into me, his tongue stroking faster, harder, before he withdraws, his lips sucking rhythmically, sealed over my entrance. I lose my breath as silent ecstasy washes over me. I want him to suck harder, to turn me inside out, to ravage every part of me until there’s nothing left.

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