Page 45 of Borrowed
Or maybe it approved.
Toby’s moan was guttural…animalistic.
“You like that, Sister?Succumbing to your damnation under my fucking cock.These walls that caused us so much pain but now will only ever be a memory of your tight cunt gripping me, squeezing me, demanding my come right where it belongs.Tell God how much you love being fucked by me.How well your pussy takes my cock.Did he like hearing your screams?Oh, fuuuuuuck—yes, Tabby.Come again for me.Drain me dry.”
His release spilled hot inside me, and he collapsed over my back, panting into the hollow of my neck like he’d just been saved.
We were shaking together.
Still tangled.
Still inside.
The candles flickered.
The water splashed onto the ground, waves and waves crashing over the edge just as we had.
Somewhere, a door opened.
And Toby smiled, still buried inside me, voice low.
“Looks like the Father wants to join our little baptism.”
The door creaked open.
Slow.
Hesitant.
Like, even the hinges knew better.
Toby didn’t move.
He stayed deep inside me, one hand gripping my hip, the other coiled around my throat like a rosary made of fingers.His chest rose and fell against my back, but his grin—his grin didn’t twitch.Just stretched wider.
I turned my head, neck craned lazily over my shoulder.
And there he was.
Father Elliot.
Mouth open.
Bible clutched in trembling hands.
His voice broke before it even formed a word.
I smirked.Let him see.Let him take in the way my knees were spread, the way the water rippled and steamed between my thighs, how Toby’s body molded against mine like we’d been carved from one twisted block of bone.
“Child,” the priest choked.“You—this is blasphemy.”
I giggled.Toby licked my shoulder.
“She’s beyond that now, Father.Didn’t you hear the sermon?She’s been claimed.”
Toby pulled out just enough to make the water gurgle between my legs, then sank back into me.
Slow.
