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Chapter Sixteen

Ronan

At the club where I began my life as a stripper, I saw him before he even stepped into the doors. That damn collar. The way it gleamed under the dim lights like a beacon, a flashing warning. My heart skipped, then slammed back into my chest like a fist. I could feel it before I even turned my head—I knew who it was.

Elias.

My body froze for just a split second, the music pounding in my ears as if I were underwater. I didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge him, but I couldn’t help it. There was something about the way he moved, about the air around him, that made it impossible to ignore. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him in this city, but it was the first time I saw him here, in this ‘unholy’ place .

Why was he here? I left like he wanted. I was a good little bitch and left him alone. Why did he follow me here, of all places?

I had my life figured out, or so I thought. I moved like a machine, performing my routine, working the pole, my body slick with sweat, the crowd calling out, begging for more.

Their greedy eyes were drinking me in like I was some kind of god in my leather G-string and suspenders.

The money was good.

It beat whoring when it came to energy. The nights bled into each other—nothing but flashing lights, distorted voices, and a sense of numbness. This had been my world. It was easier than being in his.

So why was he here?

He walked around, speaking in low voices to others, but then he saw me.

And my body tensed, betraying me the way it always did when he was near. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. It was like a wall slammed into me, hard and fast, my pulse pounding in my ears as I caught his gaze.

He was staring at me with a mixture of emotions—anger, disbelief, confusion, and lust. I could see it in his eyes, even from across the room, and swayed closer on the stage, running my hands down every contour of my body he was missing.

His beautiful face was frozen with those looks. I used to give myself the same kind of look every morning when I’d gaze in the mirror.

I hated the person staring back.

I tried to keep it together. I had to. I wasn’t ashamed of my choices.

This life. My life.

But I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as I moved through my routine, my body flowing with the music. I didn’t need to dance for him. Hell, I didn’t need to dance for anyone. But tonight, I felt like I was dancing for him—for his forgiveness, for his approval. For a connection he didn’t deserve, but I was desperate to have.

I couldn’t help it.

I moved even closer to the edge of the stage, where the spotlight hit me harder, blinding and burning, but I didn’t care.

I locked eyes with him— my priest, my mon pur, my Elias —and I wanted to say something. Anything. But I couldn’t find the words.

What was there left to say?

He was staring at me like he didn’t even recognize me. Like I was just some stranger, and he’d happened to walk in on me.

I finished my routine.

The cheers from the crowd were distant, meaningless. My whole body felt like it was on autopilot, moving, gyrating, touching the pole with the grace of someone who had done this a thousand times, but it didn’t mean anything.

As the last notes of music faded, I swung off the pole, my feet touching the ground softly, but I could feel the weight of everything pressing in on me. Elias was still there, standing at the edge of the crowd, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide. I could see him trying to figure me out and piece together the wreckage of the person he thought I was. I could feel his judgment, his disappointment, even though he wasn’t saying a word.

I walked toward him slowly, taking my time. It was like everything around me faded into the background—the murmurs of the crowd, the clinking of glasses, the heavy bass. There was only Elias now. His expression was a mask of shock and that lust he couldn’t fucking deny. Not to me.

“You came all this way to see me dance, Father?” The words came out before I could stop them, and I hated myself for it.

The sarcasm and the bitterness were too loud. I could hear them in my voice, and I hated myself for it. But I couldn’t stop it. He had to know the truth. The full truth. All those years ago…

He ran to God, and I ran to the devil.

He didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at me, his eyes trying to process the man I used to be and the man I had become. I could see it—the regret, the confusion, the unspoken question of ‘why.’

I didn’t need to explain myself. Not to him. Not to anyone. I had made my choices. It wasn’t like I was forcing anyone to look or touch. It wasn’t like I was asking for his pity. I didn’t need his sympathy.

But fuck, when he looked at me like that, like I was something dirty, something broken, I wanted to collapse.

I wanted to run.

Instead, he was silent. He was watching me with those haunted eyes like he was seeing through me—seeing me for what I really was instead of the mask everyone here saw.

“You don’t have to do this,” Elias finally said.

His voice was so quiet, so full of…of something I couldn’t name. Maybe pity. Maybe sympathy. Either way, I didn’t need his judgment.

I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped my mouth.

“I know,” I said. “I choose to. While you listen to people’s sins in a little booth, I make people scream for mine.” The words came out too harsh, too raw, but I didn’t care anymore. “This is my life, Elias. You don’t get to come here and judge me for it. I don’t need your fucking pity for who I am. You don’t know me. You never did.”

His face fell for a second, but I couldn’t focus on it. I couldn’t afford to look. If I let myself care, if I let myself see how badly I wanted him to understand, I might crack. And I couldn’t afford any more tears in the fabric of my soul. Not now.

“Then show me.”

I blinked, not realizing If I had heard him right. “What?”

Elias’s jaw flexed, and he looked around at the people in the club before settling his gaze back on mine. His blue eyes were determined.

“I said, show me. Show me who you are, Ronan Saint Clare.”

* * *

I led Elias into a private room in the back, the rooms we used for high rollers and big clientele. When the door was closed and the sounds of the booming music faded into the background, I just stood there.

What the fuck are we doing?

What was I doing?

There was a rolling cart with a bucket of ice and champagne. Clearly, some celebratory client was meant for this room, but I didn’t give a fuck.

Elias looked around the area and walked forward to the lone seat in the middle of the room. There was a pole that was slightly elevated directly in front of me, and the bottom fixture was lit up in different colors.

“How does it work, Ronan?” Elias said, his voice tight but still filled with that determination of earlier. I cleared my throat, unsure why I was even playing with the idea of doing this to a fucking priest.

“Do you want me to call you daddy, too?” I mocked, turning away and staring at the full-length mirror. There was no escaping Elias here. His reflection bounced off every damn corner of the area.

“Does my Cassock bother you all of a sudden?” he said, his tone just as biting as mine.

I rolled my eyes, but my jaw fell open when he pulled his robes over his head and neatly folded them beside his chair. I hesitated, watching his movements. He was undoing the tight white vest underneath and then his shirt under that. Little by little, Elias was…stripping.

I swallowed a knot in my throat and couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful body. God, it had been so long since I saw all the smooth contours of his chest and abs. I wanted to kiss his Adonis belt, bite his fucking hips and push down his pants to rip off that fucking cage from his beautiful cock.

“Is this better?” he said, his voice still cocky but now with a shaky edge to them.

I swallowed again and returned his icy, mocking glare.

My body was so used to the movements. As soon as I stood on the stage and the pole was in my grip, I let my body sway.

The lights dimmed, and music began to play in the background, the beat enunciating every thrust of my body and the tense squeeze of his chair. His knuckles were white, his bottom lip chewed to hell, busted and bleeding, yet he didn’t speak.

I continued my dance, dropping off the small stage and walking in slow, calculative steps toward him. His pants were the only thing on. His chest was rising and falling, his heavy breaths audible in the small space.

“We do have a rule, Father,” I said, slipping my suspenders off my shoulders and watching his eyes follow their fall. “No touching.”

Elias’s eyes lowered, and he made just the slightest movement and smiled.

“The apple was beautiful, so one would want to take a bite of it, after all. The feelings of temptation began with beauty.”

I smirked at him, getting right in his face, letting my body dance inches away from his skin in succession. When I turned around, and his jaw flexed, his hands tensing on the arm of the chair, I stuck my finger into my mouth, running my fingertip over the tip of my tongue.

“Sorry, No biting here, Mon pur.”

He let out a ragged laugh, and I twirled away, walking over to the ice bucket near the corner.

No touching, I reminded myself.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, my mind racing as fast as my heart as I grabbed the bucket and walked back to Elias. He watched me with curiosity and intrigue in his dark blue eyes.

“Lay down, Elias Cross.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t argue. He leaned the chair back and waited for me.

I took a moment to admire his beauty before I undid the belt on his pants and slipped it free.

“I-I thought you said no—” he was panting, smashing his eyes shut as if to block me from his thoughts.

“No touching,” I confirmed with a smile, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down and off his legs along with his socks and shoes.

He wasn’t wearing underwear.

What a naughty little prayer boy .

I tried to ignore his delicious caged cock lying on his pale leg and instead reached down to pick up my ice bucket.

With steady, sure movements, I picked up the cube in my hand and pushed the ice inside my mouth. I accepted the cold as it burned my tongue. Elias was squirming in the seat, his hands flexing over and over, yet not holding onto anything. His cock bounced in the cage, unable to harden but dancing for me nonetheless.

With careful movements, I got on top of the chair, careful to keep my body from touching his. In this position, they were a mere few inches apart. I could feel the burn of his skin, and he could feel mine.

My cock throbbed, and as I leaned forward, it brushed over his cage, and I hissed, nearly losing the ice in my mouth.

I anchored my hands above his head, resting one of my legs in between his thighs and the other on the arm of the chair. He looked at me in hesitation, lust and fear hidden within the depths of his eyes. I wasn’t touching a single inch of his skin. With practice and skill, I angled myself over his mouth, pushing another ice cube into it.

“What are you…”

“Shhh,” I said and dropped down closer, letting the ice cube fall onto his lips. He was shaking. The entire chair vibrated with how untamed he was feeling, but I didn’t stop. I let my lips glide the cube over his and down his chin, being careful to keep my mouth on it at all times. He moaned when I slid it over his neck, gliding down his Adam’s apple and further down his chest.

“You are my greatest temptation, Ronan. Fuuuuck. I can understand how Adam was so quick to follow in Eve’s footsteps.”

I smiled, dragging my body and the ice down his chest, over his rippling stomach, and to his cock.

“Elias Cross,” I mused with a smile letting the ice sit on his dick. “Are you calling me the devil?”

He inhaled sharply, the metal bobbing with his need to harden beneath my mouth. My lips were not touching a single part of him, just the ice. I watched the water roll down the contoured lines of his body.

“I–I don’t know. You are d-devilish, and you know it. You enjoy torturing m-me like this.

“Oh yes, I do. And you’re dripping for me, Elias,” I said softly, pressing the ice harder into his flesh and groaning when more liquid shot from his cock.

“You are just being cruel now, Ronan. So cruel. Devil indeed,” he whimpered.

I smiled, shoving the ice even harder into his cock. It was nearly melted now, my lips so close to making contact with his skin.

“You won’t let me be your god, Mon Pur,” I said, feeling his shaking increase to the point that I was vibrating over him. He was close. Even caged, he was going to lose himself to me.

“So yes. Now, I will be your fucking devil.”

“Oh fuck! Ronan.”

His orgasm shot out of him like a water hose. The liquid was clear, odorless, and watery.

I smiled wider, licking my lips from the spray. God, he tasted so fucking good.

“Should I consider myself baptized now?” I mused, and Elias groaned in bliss and defeat.

“I can’t fucking help myself. Oh god. You destroy me, Ronan. Oh, fuuuck yes.” His body was trembling more and more as he poured all the sin he’d held back for so long out.

The seat was soaking wet, and I was dripping from my head to my chest. I had a dumb smile plastered on my face. I could see the bliss in the mirror across from us, but I could also see his uncertainty.

“Hey,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I did not touch you once. Your body is caged from me, and if elements are sin, then we are all damned.”

He laughed in exasperation, throwing up his hands and running his hands through his strawberry hair.

“Only you would try to find a loophole to make a man of God come,” he said, and I shrugged.

“I told you before. Giving into me can be your true heaven. Not a land you know anything about, but a home you could know all too well.”

He held his head, his mind wrapping around my words.

The silence stretched between us, and I grabbed a towel and water from the back of the room on the shelving unit designed for after-private sessions.

“Why are you here, Elias?” I said, giving him the items and leaning on the door frame to look at him.

Elias took the items, drank the water, and wiped his body free of his sin before putting those damn robes back on.

“Honestly…” he said softly, his voice barely registering at all. “I don’t know.”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Your mom,” he said almost robotically as if he was remembering something he had forgotten.

“Your mom is in trouble. Jack hurt her, and I called the ambulance. She’s safe now. But I…”

My heart rate spiked, and anger flooded my system.

Fucking Jack off hurt my mom again…and I wasn’t there to help her.

“I came here to find you. To tell you what happened. She misses you. I think she got used to having you around.”

There was more that was unsaid in his words.

I miss you too.

“Fucking hell,” I said, running my hand over my face. “We need to get back to her.”

Elias nodded, those mechanical movements continuing like he didn’t know how to reboot.

“I liked it,” he said after a few minutes while I got my clothes and texted Travis about the situation.

“What?” I said, distraction and a haze lacing my tone.

“I liked your dance. You are truly beautiful. Thank you, Ronan.”

Hearing those words made me blush like a fucking idiot. Not realizing how much I needed his acceptance and approval.

I felt so much pride.

I gave myself a minute to feel that warmth, happiness, and contentment because I knew.

I knew that as soon as we left this slice of heaven, we would be thrown back into our hell.