by Aubrey Irons
“Are we still talking about hotdogs?”
“I was actually talking about my cock.”
The word sends an illicit shiver through me, a craving that claws deep inside of me. I straighten up, willing the heat from my face.
“That’s crude.”
“No, that’s a euphemism.”
I grin but quickly hide it as some of the other volunteers approach the table. I slip out from my spot pressed between him and the condiments table and step away.
He follows.
“Can I help you with something?” I say innocently, turning once we’re a safe distance from the others.
“I am positive you could actually.”
I blush, my eyes locking with his and feeling that wicked tingle slide through me.
“There are people here,” I whisper.
“Then let’s go somewhere without people.”
I chew on my lips. “People will notice.”
“Who?”
“Your dad? My father?”
He rolls his eyes. “My dad is talking home brewery techniques with old man Lowry, which means he’s out of commission for the next two hours. And your dad…” he glances up, his eyes scanning the crowd before they stop, and he grins.
I turn to follow his gaze to my father.
“Is he baptizing people?”
I make a face. “Honestly? Yes.”
“He knows that’s a tub for holding beer kegs, right?”
“I sincerely doubt it.”
“Oh, the irony.”
I’m shaking my head and turning when his lips brush my ear. “See what I mean? We’re off the hook.”
I look up at him, and it’s everything I can do to keep my mouth shut. I have to keep it shut, because if I open it, I’m going to say all sorts of things I shouldn’t to a man I shouldn’t even be talking to, let alone having the sort of thoughts I’m having about. Wicked, sinful, filthy thoughts.
Thoughts that warm me in places they shouldn’t.
And if I open my mouth, they’re all going to come out. If I open my mouth, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from saying yes to this temptation again.
And God do I want to say yes.
“You might not be saying it, but you’re thinking it.”
I can feel my cheeks burn as I shake my head. “Thinking what?” I whisper.
“You tell me.”
I quickly shake my head, and he grins. “Go ahead, tell me.”
“I- I can’t,” I say shakily.
“Try.”
I shake my head again and he grins. “Want me to go first?”
I nod, still seemingly unable to speak for fear of blurting out every single thing I want him to do to me.
“How about,” he leans in, “how about, you’re thinking about how much you want to feel me push that skirt up to your waist, peel those panties down to your knees, bend you over, and run my tongue all over your pussy.”
I gasp.
I actually gasp out loud, my hand flying to my mouth like I’m some sort of church lady who’d just been scandalized. Well, in a way, I am, except it’s scandalized in the best way possible.
“That something along the lines of what you were thinking?”
I swallow, frozen.
“Yes or no, angel,” he whispers into my ear.
And slowly, I nod.
“Didn’t catch that.”
“Yes,” I whisper out.
Rowan growls. “Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the crowds, away from the barbecue and around to the side door of the church.
“Where are we going, exactly?”
He opens it and pulls me through, and suddenly, we’re enveloped in the shrouded silence and dim light of the inside of the old church.
“Here?!” I gasp, whirling at him. “You want to have sex in a church?” I squeak out.
He pulls me against him, kissing me fiercely, and I melt.
“Yeah, I do, but the thing is,” he grins at me before leaning into my ear and sucking the lobe between his teeth. I gasp.
“You do too,” he growls.
The heat blooms between my legs, and my knees quiver. He grabs my hand and leads me down a length of pews, towards two sets of doors, and my heart jumps inside my chest.
“You can’t be serious.”
Rowan opens the door to the tiny confessional booth and grins.
“Church is a serious place.”
“In there?!”
“The pulpit might be a little exposed.”
I blush, but then, I’m letting my feet follow as he pulls me inside. The door shuts, and we’re alone in the near dark shadows of the freaking confessional booth.
We crash together instantly.
Mouths gasp for each other, hands slide over each other’s bodies — pulling, undoing, unbuttoning.
“Have you- have you done this before?”
He stops. “Done what?”
“You know,” I say softly, suddenly wishing I’d never opened my mouth. “In here.”
He chuckles. “Had sex in a confessional booth?”
I nod before I realize it’s probably too dark for him to see it. “Yes.”
“Jeez, girl, how bad do you think I am?”
“Very.”
I can hear him grin as he leans close to my ear, his lips brushing it. “Good bad or bad bad?”
I swallow. “I’m not sure, actually.”
“The kinda bad where you want to run away, or the kinda bad where you’re dying to feel my tongue between your legs?”
I whimper, the heat and the wetness flooding my panties. “I-” I swallow. “The second.”
“I think I need to hear it,” he growls into my ear. “After all, we are in a confessional booth.”
“I want to feel you,” I whisper.
“Feel me what,” he growls.
“I-”
“Confess your sins, angel.”
I gasp, my whole body melting for him, on fire, craving him.
“I want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”
It is the filthiest, crudest thing I’ve ever said, and I’ve just said it in a church. In a confessional booth.
“Good girl,” he growls.
I gasp as he spins me around, pushing me against the wall of the tiny booth. My hands go flat, my breath catching in my throat and my hair hanging across my face.
He moves behind me, his hands skimming up my back as he leans over me. “And the answer is no, I’ve never had sex in a confessional booth.”
I can’t help but grin, but then I’m gasping as he moves back, dropping onto his knees behind me. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt high, higher until he’s slipping it over my butt.
I whimper as his fingers find the front of my panties, and I know he can tell how wet I am. His finger slides across it, making me shiver as he teases me through the cotton, before he finds the waist and starts to pull.
I arch my back as he slips them off, letting them drop to my ankles.
“Tell me again, angel.” He whispers. “Tell me what you want.”
“I- I want you to taste me,” I hiss out, my face going red and my heart thudding in my chest. “I want your tongue on my- Ooooh.”
I cry out as his tongue slides into my folds, before quickly stifling the cry in the crook of my arm. Rowan’s strong hands grab my ass, my hips — pulling me back onto his wicked mouth as his tongue pushes deep inside.
My eyes shut, my mouth hangs open, and my whole body melts under his touch. He groans as he licks me, his tongue pushing in and out of my opening before he moves to my clit — teasing his tongue across it and making me muffle my mouth with my arm again.
He keeps his mouth there, teasing, pushing me, coaxing the sin from me. Hands grab my hips, pulling me onto his tongue as I claw the wall and suck in breaths of air. He teases faster and faster, zeroing in on that perfect spot as I start to arch my back and feel my knees shake.
His hand sl
ips between my legs, and I moan as he slides a finger deep inside as his mouth fastens on my clit. He starts to stroke in and out, his tongue swirling again and again.
His other hand suddenly comes down with a smack on my bare butt, and I yelp.
Holy shit that feels…
Good.
Very good.
He does it again, another slight, swatting spank that leaves my skin burning and wanting more. Again, the hand comes down, spanking me in the confessional booth as I find myself falling towards that sweet, sweet abyss.
“I’m- oh God…” I’m gasping it as my eyes shut and my heart pounds, and as his tongue swirls over my clit once more, I shatter for him.
I bury the moan in my arm again as I come, bent over in a confessional booth with my skirt around my waist and my panties at my ankles, with Rowan’s tongue buried deep between my legs. He licks me through the climax until I’m gasping and pushing his head away, sucking in lung-fulls of air.
I can hear his belt buckle, and his jeans sliding off, and I’m instantly craving more.
He moves, sitting down on the tiny confessional booth seat and pulling me onto his lap.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“I-” I blush. “I want to try something new.”
I drop to my knees in front of him, my hand sliding up his muscled thighs.
Rowan groans. “Shit, beautiful.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dimness of the booth, and as I lean forward, they lock onto him.
God he’s big.
And dear God do I want this.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rowan
Holy fuck am I going to hell in a hand basket.
Somehow, this has reached critical mass.
Somehow, I’ve got sweet, innocent Evangeline Ellis on her fucking knees in front of my cock.
In a confessional booth.
Yeah, I’m going to hell, and I seriously don’t care right now.
She looks at me hungrily as she unbuttons her blouse, shrugging it off her shoulders. And then she’s kneeling there in a white bra, her skirt, and her panties still around her ankles.
Jesus Christ am I fucking hard.
She reaches out, curling her fingers around me, and I groan. Slowly, she pumps her hand up and down before she leans forward. And then, like some sort of filthy fantasy come to life, she opens her mouth, leans down, and wraps those perfect, soft lips around my cock.
Forget hell, I’m in heaven.
“Fuck, angel.”
She pulls off, a concerned look on her face. “What?”
I shake my head. “Yeah, no, that was good.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiles coyly, and innocent church girl fades away when she leans forward and licks my cock from bottom to tip.
And I could die right there.
“Good, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” I growl, my mouth going slack as I watch her slowly slip her lips back over my head. Her eyes dart up to lock with mine as she’s bobs her head, and I’m fucking lost.
Holy shit.
I reach down, pushing the hair out of her eyes as she sucks my cock.
Jesus, this is wrong, but Jesus do I not care at all right now.
She bobs faster, moaning, and the vibrations have me clawing at my sanity and my toes curling before I even know it.
“Shit, hang on.” I pull her up.
“What?”
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”
She grins. “Good.”
Jesus, I put the devil in this girl.
“Except,” I growl, pulling her onto my lap. “Except I want this.”
I reach down and slip a finger against her slick pussy, loving the way she moans. Her legs move to either side of my lap as I pull her onto my lap. I reach for my pants, grabbing a condom from my pocket and tearing it open. She watches as I roll it down my length before pulling her against me and kissing her as she starts to sink down.
Eva suddenly pushes down, taking my full length in one stroke as we both gasp out loud.
Fuck that’s good.
Fuck that’s impossibly good.
She moans softly, and I groan. “Just like that, angel,” I whisper into her lips.
She whimpers as she starts to move, and my hands grab her ass, easing her off before pulling her back down on my cock.
“Oh God,” she husks out.
I start to move her up and down, but she takes, over.
Enthusiastically.
Her thighs flex and her hands grip my neck tight as she starts to bounce on my length, taking every inch of me on every down stroke and moaning into my lips as we start to move faster.
She gasps, the sweetness of her cries almost too much for me.
“Just like that, angel,” I gasp, grabbing her ass tight and grinding into her.
“You keep- oooh,” she moans. “You keep calling me that.”
“What, angel?”
She moans. “Yes.”
“Because you are.”
A possessive feeling suddenly comes over me.
“You’re my angel,” I growl into her ear.
She moans. “Oh yeah?”
“All mine,” I whisper as she starts to move faster and faster.
Her whimpered moans fill the confession booth, the sound of our bodies coming together, the heat from us moving like this.
“You’re my angel, and I want my angel to come all over my cock for me,” I growl through clenched teeth.
She cries out, burying her mouth in my neck and squeezing me tight as she just explodes for me. Her whole body seizes up, clenching me, milking me, shattering against me, and it’s too much.
I groan as I push in deep and erupt, pumping again and again as our climaxes mix together in one beautiful crash.
This is wrong.
This is sin.
And you know what?
Send me to hell, cause I just want more.
“What?”
I blink, refocusing and realizing Eva’s looking up at me and realizing I’ve been staring at her.
We’re on the floor of the confessional booth now in the heap of our clothes, her between my legs with her back against my chest.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and shrug.
Eva grins. “You were studying me.”
“Maybe I was.”
“I thought I was the one doing the studying.”
It takes me half second but then I roll my eyes. “Right, the lessons, for your future husband.”
“You make it sound so medieval.”
“It is.”
It’s also eating at me. It’s burning inside of me, and not in a good way. The thought of her leaving, the thought of her belonging to someone else has something raging inside of me.
Because whatever this was — whatever stupid game and pretense we stated this as? It got real. And somewhere along the way, I’ve decided there’s no way I’m letting go of her.
Because she’s mine.
My angel.
But it can never be, and I know that. There’s no future here, there’s no next step, no, well, anything.
I shake my head. Jesus, not like that’s what I’m looking for anyways, right? Relationships are clingy, and stifling.
Not for me. For me, there’s always the next girl, the next pretty face at the bar. And for her, there’s Milton.
The dark thought burns inside of me again, and I shake my head clear of it.
“So, should we figure out how to get the hell out of here?”
The barbecue is quieting down by the time we sneak back out the side door of St. Ann’s. True enough, my dad is still talking with Mr. Lowry, and hers is still, well, baptizing heathens in the beer keg bucket.
Eva’s hand lingers in my own, fingers tracing mine before we have to make that final turn around the corner of the church and back into the spotlight.
It’s the voice behind us that has us jumping apart.
“Little early in the day for B
ible study, isn’t it?”
Fuck.
I whirl around to face her.
Fiona.
Fiona standing there with her arms crossed and that look on her face. That look — that dangerous look she gets when she’s about to go unhinged.
“But I’m bettin’ you two weren’t exactly studying the holy word, huh?” she says with a wicked grin, staring daggers at Eva.
Eva’s face goes red, a small gasp on her lips.
“Your daddy know where you’ve just been?”
“We-” Eva stammers, “we were just getting something from the church.”
“Oh I bet you were just getting something.” Fiona laughs wickedly and smirks. “Your shirt’s on inside out by the way, honey.”
Eva’s face falls, and Fiona just grins wider — like a shark.
“Jesus, Row. You know, I hear her father is quite the-”
“That’s enough, Fiona,” I growl, stepping forward.
“Oh, I’m just getting-”
“That’s enough,” I hiss, louder this time, my jaw going tight as I glare at her.
Her mouth goes small.
“So that’s it, Row?” Her voice is suddenly different — softer, pleading. Except, I know this trick, and it no longer hooks me like it maybe once did.
“So that’s how we end this?”
“There’s no this,” I hiss, glaring at her. “There’s no-” I shake my head. “You’re engaged, Fiona.”
She laughs. “That’s funny, Row. Rumor has it, so is she!” She nods at Eva before turning to glare right at her. “Now what would your daddy say about you playing bad girl with this guy?”
“Get out of here, Fi, I’m warning you.”
“I’m just here to enjoy some barbecue food, Row. Just want to mingle with the church folks, you know?” She runs her tongue over her lips, her eyes narrowing at me.
“After all, there are two preachers here now, right? I bet they’d love to hear the stuff I could confess.” Her lips turn up at the corners as she narrows her gaze on Eva again. “I bet your daddy would love the confessions I could spill about what’s going on behind his back, huh?”
My hands close into fists as I step forward. “Leave, Fiona,” I hiss, shaking with the rage inside. “Now.”