Page 69 of Priestly Sins

“You love Clara.”

“Yes.” It’s simple, but I don’t see any need to make this moment complicated.

“She thinks you hung the moon, you know?”

“Sheisthe moon.”

She nods, lost still in the dancing orange waves.

I slide my hand that was over her knee up to her waist and up to her chest, skipping her breasts. I let my finger trail her collarbone and neck. I dip toward her cleavage but don’t go there. It’s a simple prayer offered with my slow-roving fingertips.

“You love me.” Another statement.

“Yes.”

“I…”

She rotates to straddle me, facing me eye to eye, for long, long moments where I hold my breath—waiting, wanting.

She dips her head and presses her lips to mine, but pulls back and stares again before diving in aggressively.

Her hands cover my face, my neck, try to squeeze between us. She palms me and fiddles with my buttons, but realizes it’s futile.

She needs to be in control here. I can sense it, so I stay silent and let her.

She rolls off me, dropping the blanket and takes my hand, tentatively, leading me into the back door and down the hall.

I silently follow.

When we get to the master, she turns and clicks the door shut and begins stripping. It’s not a striptease dance, but her fluid movements are erotic as fuck. I stand there waiting for instructions, somehow knowing she needs to direct this, fighting everything within me from taking over.

Once she is in just her panties, she comes to me, her honey-colored hair falling over her shoulders and tits, and she stares silently into my eyes and begins to unbutton my shirt. I stare at her, enthralled. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced, and that includes my X-rated dreams of her.

She moves to my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping and reaching her hand inside to cup me. She slides my jeans down and finally breaks the silence. “Shoes.”

I kick them off. She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

She slides my jeans and boxers down together. My cock bobs and seeks her out. There is no hiding my attraction.

I want her. And she knows it.

Light, damp palms press down on my shoulders until I sit on the edge of the bed. In one fluid motion, she kneels between my thighs and stares reverently at my cock. Then she gently, so lightly it might kill me, takes it into her hand, stroking.

With a final look into my eyes, she drops her head and takes my cock into her mouth.

Holy fuck! Fuck! Fuck! So much better than any fantasy I could conjure up. She slides down and I bump the back of her throat. My moan must encourage her, because she moans too and the vibration shoots straight to my spine and lights up every nerve ending in my groin.

“Fuck, baby! Oh, fuck!”

She sucks and swirls around my tip and pulls me back down her throat.

When she reaches underneath my sac and begins to fondle my balls, I’m so close I’m hurting.

“I’m going to—Sirona, I—”

She swallows. I’m fucking done and unload every fantasy I’ve ever had of her right there, with her. Finally.

She swallows again and looks shyly away before standing up and pushing me back onto the bed with those same light palms.