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He ripped my underwear to the side and then the head of his cock was there , pushing against my entrance. I grabbed the wrist at my neck with both hands, hanging on for dear life, desperate to feel him pushing into me.

We could get caught like this, fucking in a church.

Lust roared through me at the thought. I was so turned on I could already feel myself coating the head of Junior’s cock in slickness.

The ghost of a groan slipped out of him, barely audible even though his lips were right at my ear. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

I held still, clinging to him, shaking with need. He pushed just inside, and, oh, god , the stretch was so delicious that it seemed impossible to hold still. I wanted more of him, all of him, until he was shoved so deep that I felt him hit the back of my teeth.

But he didn’t give it to me. Instead, he held himself there, both of us breathing through our noses to try to stay quiet. A shiver wracked his body, and I knew he was just as close as I was, balanced on a precipice of near violence and trying not to pound into me, giving us away.

His other hand slid around my hip and then between my thighs.

My eyes widened at the first brush of his fingertips.

I was in a confessional booth, near a packed banquet hall, a group of people just outside, speared on the head of a cock, with a man’s hand stroking my clit.

It was the most life-altering religious experience of my life.

I’d never felt closer to God. And maybe that was blasphemous, but if it was, then I would happily claim the title of heretic, because nothing would ever make me regret doing this, not even if I found out he’d stalked me every single day for the past ten years.

Heaven help me, but the slight fear that he might have done just that only drove my desire higher, adding a dangerous thrill that made my heart skip a beat before thundering on.

His fingers rolled over my clit again and again, and I kept waiting for him to push deeper, but he held himself perfectly still inside me, frustratingly shallow.

I clenched around him, trying to coax him into moving even as I obeyed his order to stay still, and between the frustration of being denied, the threat of discovery, and the sensation of his fingers playing me like I was his favorite instrument, I quickly climbed higher and higher.

My inner muscles spasmed, desperate for more. I’d never been so aware of the first inch of my pussy in my life. I swore I felt every nerve ending lighting up where we touched, felt the entire outline of his cock head stretching me wide.

Move , I wanted to beg him, but I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth without moaning.

My legs shook, threatening to buckle.

Junior’s hand tightened on my throat, and I felt his silent command of Don’t you fucking dare fall.

His fingers picked up speed on my clit, and this time, I couldn’t stop a low whimper from slipping out.

Lips parted beneath my ear. The sharp pinch of teeth warned me to shut up.

Oh, no. I was going to come. Here. In the back of a cavernous church, and if any of the sounds I made were louder than a whisper, they would echo over the marble, and we’d be caught.

I didn’t know if I could obey Junior’s command. I’d never had to be completely silent before. But it was too late to slow down, too late to talk myself back from the edge, because my fear was amplifying my pleasure, and I could feel a monster of an orgasm building.

Fuck, this was going to be torture.

Heat bloomed low in my belly. My muscles clenched down on Junior’s dick and held.

I slammed my eyes shut, trying to focus on staying mute, praying like I’d never prayed in my life.

A full-body shudder rolled from the top of my spine to the tip of my toes.

Only Junior’s grip on my neck kept me upright.

I clenched my thighs together, shaking, shivering, my entire being spiraling down to the bundle of nerves between my legs before it exploded outward again, tearing through me, pleasure and euphoria and joy lighting up every single cell in my body as I came harder than I had in years, holding my breath the entire time because I didn’t know how else to keep from crying out.

Junior stepped back, slipping out of me, and I felt hot liquid spurt across my inner thighs as his orgasm chased mine. The fingers around my neck clenched, bowing my spine, nearly pulling me off-balance before he came back to himself and steadied us.

“Did you hear something?”

We froze.

“No?” someone answered.

“I could have sworn I heard...” The man trailed off, and I stopped breathing again. “Yup, thought so. Sorry, fellas, I think my wife is looking for me.”

I nearly collapsed in relief. Behind me, Junior let out a shaky breath.

And then his hand found my shoulder and he was turning me, kissing me, his hands everywhere, my own slipping into his hair and tugging him down, almost viciously.

I didn’t know if I wanted to fight or fuck, and it was confusing as hell.

More voices entered the room, but we were too busy quietly bruising each other’s mouths to register them until it was almost too late. “I’m telling you, he’s here,” an unmistakable, feminine, Irish voice said.

Junior tore himself away from me, eyes wide.

“Look,” Moira said. “The little GPS dot says he’s right here somewhere.”

“Junior?” Nico Senior called out.

Oh, no. We’d pissed off God with our antics, and now He was going to punish us.

In record time, Junior had his dick back in his pants and his shirt tucked in.

“Can I help you both?” the priest asked, his shoes echoing over the marble floor as he headed our way.

I ducked down and scooped Junior’s phone from my purse, shoving it at him. He had to get out of here. Now, before they caught us together. Jesus Christ, his cum was dripping down my legs.

He pulled my phone from his jacket pocket, and we swapped.

“Oh, hello, Father,” Moira said. “You haven’t seen our oldest anywhere, have you?”

Junior grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me toward him, kissing me one last time. And then he let me go, sent me an unreadable look, and slipped out of the booth, careful not to open the door too wide.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding more put together than he had any right to be. “I was out late last night and decided to take a quick nap.”

“In the confessional?” Moira asked, scandalized. “Please forgive him, Father.”

A low chuckle. “No need. I was young once, too.”

Lead them away , I silently begged as I slid out of my underwear and used them to wipe myself off.

I had a travel pack of tissues on me, but I wasn’t touching them.

The crinkling of plastic would give me away if I tried, and I needed to get clean, fast, just in case someone decided to come check on what (or more like who) Junior had really been doing in here.

“You ready to head to breakfast?” he asked, and the sound of retreating footsteps was like music to my ears.

It took the baseball bros another ten minutes to break apart, and then I spent five more inside the booth after they left, my heart pounding and my ears straining for any hint of noise. Nothing. I cracked the door.

Nonna sat in the pew right outside, grinning like the cheshire cat, and I about had a heart attack. How the hell had she snuck up on me?

“I see you took my advice,” she said.

My face flushed with warmth, but as I stepped out of the booth, I decided to feign ignorance. There was no way she could have known what I’d done. She hadn’t even seen Junior. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She crowed with laughter. “Tell that to the handprint on your neck.”