Page 15 of Lustling

Her scent hits me first. Arousal masked by fear, cloaked in guilt, the sort of heady concoction only someone devout and aching could produce. She’s soaked in it. It clings to her.

I close my eyes, breathing her in. It’s addictive. Like frankincense laced with sin. She’s a hymn sung in the wrong key. A psalm corrupted.

She shuts the door and settles on the other side of the screen. I let the silence stretch, taut as a bowstring. Let her feel it. Let her squirm in the heat of her own unrest.

She shifts, exhales shakily. Then finally, softly, she speaks.

“What should I call you?”

The voice is careful. Curious. Submissive without understanding why. I let my smile rise, slow and deliberate, like a blade being unsheathed.

“Father Deimos.”

A sharp inhale. Surprise. Then a hesitant echo, soft and reverent: “Father Deimos.”

It sounds like a prayer and a curse.

“Tell me, little lamb,” I murmur, letting my voice curl like smoke through the screen, “what sins weigh on your soul tonight?”

Her pulse jumps. I can hear it—fragile and fast. I can feel her thighs shift, trying to close against a heat she doesn’t want to name.

“I’ve been… having dreams,” she whispers.

That stops me cold.

Dreams.

“Go on.”

“At first, they were about my boyfriend.”

The word slams into me.Boyfriend. I see red. Rage rolls under my skin like thunder.

“And in these dreams?” I force the question out, barely keeping my voice level. “What happens?”

“They’re… sexual.”

The scent of her changes again—rising, sharper, more urgent. Her desire blooms like a bruise just under the surface. Then, as always, she tries to push it back down. Her guilt is a leash she pulls tight around her own throat.

“But then someone else shows up,” she continues, voice quieter now. “He’s always there. Just before the end.”

Before she comes. Before she breaks.

“Do you see his face?”

“No. But I know he’s watching. Waiting.”

My cock twitches. My jaw tightens. I reach for her mind. Just a brush. A taste. I only want to skim the surface.

But the second I touch her?—

Agony.

A shock lashes through me. I jolt back, breath hissing through my teeth. She didn’t just throw me out—she repelled me. A wall slammed down so violently, so unnaturally bright, it left scorch marks on my soul.

I blink, vision swimming.

What the fuck?