Page 118 of Divine Temptations

He wanted me to be inside him? Oh my God.

Noah leaned over, yanked open the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a condom and a bottle of what appeared to be a clear gel. He poured the gel in his hand, then wrapped his fist around my dick.

"I can't believe..." I began, but Noah kissed my words away. Then he slid the condom down my shaft. He stroked me gently, the cool gel warming as he spread it over the condom. I watched, entranced, as Noah prepared himself, applying the gel with a sureness that betrayed his experience. I was a mess of nerves and desire, my body aching with need, my mind racing with uncertainty.

Noah seemed to sense my apprehension. He leaned over me, his body pressing against mine, and kissed me softly. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. “We’ll go slow. I promise.”

I nodded, trusting him, wanting this more than anything despite my fears. He straddled me, his knees on either side of my hips, and slowly lowered himself onto me. I felt the pressure first, tight and hot, and then the gradual give as he took me in. The sensation was overwhelming, unlike anything I’d ever felt. I gasped, my hands gripping his thighs, my eyes locked onto his.

He winced slightly, his breath hitching, but he didn’t stop. He took me deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. The intensity of it made me tremble. Noah leaned forward, his hands planted on my chest, and began to move, slow and deliberate. The pleasure was indescribable, a heat that built and spread, consuming every part of me.

“God, Henry,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “You feel amazing.”

I couldn’t speak, could barely think. All I could do was feel—the rhythm of his body, the heat of his skin, the connection that seemed to bind us together. My hips moved in sync with his, instinctively, driven by a primal need. The room filled with the sounds of our breaths, our moans, the slick friction of our bodies.

Noah’s pace quickened, his body moving fluidly, beautifully. I watched him, mesmerized by the sight of him above me, his muscles taut, his skin glistening with sweat. The pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter, until I thought I would explode.

“Noah,” I gasped, my voice a plea. “I can’t… I’m going to…”

He leaned down, his lips brushing mine. “Let go, Henry,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

The orgasm ripped through me, shattering every barrier, every inhibition. I cried out, my body convulsing, my hands gripping him tightly.

"Oh God, I'm coming," Noah cried, and his cock erupted, shooting across my stomach and chest. I'd never seen or felt anything like this, and suddenly I felt a mixture of shame and desire. Dirty. That's what I felt, but at the same time I felt a strange sense of peace wash through me.

Noah collapsed against me, his breath hot and ragged against my throat, his body heavy and slick with sweat. For a long, breathless moment, neither of us moved. The room seemed to hum with the echo of what we’d just done, like the very walls knew. His heartbeat thudded against my chest, wild and uneven, and my arms went around him without thinking, holding him there, as if I could tether myself to the present moment and not float away.

He pressed a slow kiss against my shoulder, almost absentminded, like it was second nature to touch me this way. His hand traced lazy shapes across my ribs, grounding me, soothing me, though my body still trembled from aftershocks.

I wanted to stay there, wrapped in the warmth of him, the comfort of his weight. I wanted to believe this meant something more than just lust and need. But as my breathing steadied, the edges of shame and fear began to creep back in, insidious, uninvited.

Dirty. That’s what my mind whispered. Unworthy. Wrong.

And yet—God help me—I’d never felt more alive.

Noah shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at me. His face was soft in the dim light, his eyes liquid with affection and exhaustion. He smiled that lazy, devastating smile and brushed damp hair from my forehead. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, husky, tender.

I opened my mouth to answer, but my throat was tight. The truth was complicated. I was more than okay. I was ruined. I was satisfied. I was terrified. Instead of answering, I just nodded, hoping it was enough.

Noah kissed my temple, then curled against me, his arm draped across my chest like I belonged to him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The room was dark and silent when I woke, but the weight in my chest was louder than any sound. My skin still burned with Noah’s touch, but now it felt like fire licking at a wound. I lay there for a long moment, staring into the shadows, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing beside me.

He looked peaceful in sleep, beautiful in a way that made my throat ache. And maybe that was what broke me. Because I didn’t deserve this. Him. Any of it.

Quietly, I slid out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. The floor was cold under my bare feet as I found myscattered clothes. Shirt. Pants. Shoes. Each piece tugged me further away from the heat of his body, the safety of his bed.

When I glanced back once more, he was still asleep, the sheets tangled around his waist, lips parted in some unguarded dream. My chest constricted.

I let myself out without a sound.

The night air hit me sharp and cold, like a punishment. My stomach churned with guilt, with shame, with longing. I’d crossed a line I could never uncross.

But as I stumbled down the dark street, one question hammered through the noise of my thoughts, relentless, merciless:

How could I ever be at peace with God again?

Chapter Eight