She turned in his arms, her naked breasts flattened against his rock-hard abs she could feel even through his layers of robes. She looked up at him. “Um, that was…” Stymied by shyness, she lowered her lashes.
“I know,” he said hoarsely.
He knew exactly how Kady felt because she wasn’t the only one who’d reached fulfillment. As she was crying out and shuddering, Tristan had been clenching his teeth and orgasming right along with her. It was when he felt her pussy quiver and gush into his palm that he literally lost it. Ejaculated into his chinos. Splooged his drawers. Spunked his jizz like a fucking poindexter.
He wanted to curse himself but figured there was time enough for that later. Later he could feel remorseful and shitty and sick to his stomach. Right now, in this moment he was beside himself with jubilation. Humiliation notwithstanding.
Kady’s clattering teeth drew his attention to the drop in temperature. The church’s automatic thermostat was programmed to go down to sixty-five at night, and if Tristan hadn’t noticed earlier he could now feel a definite chill in the air.
Retrieving her jacket from the floor, he draped it over her shoulders. “We should get you some place warmer.”
Not allowing his Super-ego a chance to override the impulses of his Id, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the back of the church. Past his office and through a side door, down the enclosed breezeway that led to the rectory. Where he lived. By himself. All alone.
Entering the main front room, he sat Kady on a sofa and found her a blanket. “Better?” he asked, wrapping it around her.
She nodded.
“Do you want a glass of water or something?”
She shook her head.
He was standing in front of the couch looking down at her. She was sitting on the couch looking up at him. After an awkward throat clear, he said, “Okay. Well, I should change out of these.” He tugged the front of his robe. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Disappearing into his bedroom, he pushed the door closed behind him.
Like steam from a kettle, Kady released a pent-up breath. Had that really happened earlier? And was she really in Tristan’s apartment now? Her eyes roamed the studio, giving it a cursory inspection. Leaning back against the cushions, she glanced at his bedroom. The door was ajar, the gap wide enough that from her position on the sofa his closet and dresser were in view. Which meant he was also in view. Which meant she could watch him undress.
But that would be wrong. It would be an invasion of privacy. It would make her a Peeping Tom. No really, she shouldn’t.
With his back to the door, Tristan stored his cross in the top drawer of the highboy, then kicked off his shoes and socks, peeled off his vestments and took off his trousers, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs.
Kady’s eyes saucered seeing his bare body for the first time. The sight of Tristan’s back rippling with muscle and the well-defined buttocks under his boxer-briefs was a shock. He looked like an ancient Greco-Roman wrestler cast in bronze. When he turned around and gave her his front view she sucked in a breath so sharply it hurt. She couldn’t tell if her strong reaction was due to his ripped chest and arms or the mantle of tattoos covering them. Dear God, was that a pierced nipple?
Tristan folded his stole and stored it away. Everything but the chasuble he tossed in the laundry basket. The tunic he could wash. The chasuble would have to be dry-cleaned. A side of his mouth slanted up. Cum stain. Not his but Kady’s. She’d creamed his hand, and in a classy move he’d wiped his palm off on his thigh, soiling the silk fabric. Her scent was still on his skin and he was trying very, very hard not to bring his hand up to his nose and sniff it like some perv.
Shit, he needed a shower. A cold one to kill his burgeoning erection. He also wanted to cleanse himself of his own semen, some of it tacky and some already dried. But there was only the one bathroom and he was going to see if Kady might want to use it first.
He took out a pair of clean underwear and started sliding his old ones down, getting past his V-cut when a sudden sense he was being watched prickled his skin. It was then he noticed the door hadn’t closed all the way. He gave it a shove, depriving Kady of the chance to discover if the bulge that’d been rubbing against her backside was as impressive as it had felt.
Wearing sweats and a tee-shirt, Tristan walked back into the living room, missing her gaze clip his crotch. “I’m going to get the rest of your clothes and lock up. There’s a fresh towel in the bathroom if you want to—” His dick jumped at the thought of Kady’s pussy, messy with her juices. “Rinse off.”
Her cheeks turned the color of a strawberry milkshake as she lowered an awning of thick lashes as dark glossy brown as her brows. His breath caught. Jesus, the girl was literally breathtaking.
A shower sounded wonderful to Kady. Her wet panties and sticky vagina were uncomfortable but it was her ripe smell making her self-conscious. Yet as much as she wanted to stand under a stream of hot water, she wasn’t about to take one here. She’d have to wait until—
“Oh, crap!” She launched off the couch. “What time is it?”
Checking his watch, “A little after ten.”
“Crap, where’s my phone?” She looked around frantically. “I’m staying at Alex’s tonight and was supposed to call her to pick me up. Crap, I totally forgot.
“Calm down, your phone’s probably in your purse.”
“Where’s my purse?”
“Back at the church.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Here, use mine while I go get your stuff.”
Twelve minutes later Tristan returned and noticed Kady was visibly distraught. “So you get a hold of Alex?” he asked as she handed him back his phone.
“She said she’d been texting me for the last half-hour. She can’t come get me. There’s a foot of snow out there and it’s still coming down.”
“What, it’s snowing?” He strode to the window. “I thought they were exaggerating. Those weather guys never get the forecast right.” He peered through the blinds. “Holy moly it is snowing. The implication suddenly hit him. He whirled back to Kady, her expression telling him she’d already deduced their dilemma. “We’re snowed in.”
Chapter
“More?”
Tristan had a skillet poised to scrape a second helping of scrambled eggs onto Kady’s plate.
Trying to swallow what was in her mouth, she put up a hand. “Good, thanks.”
He put the pan back on the stove and returned to his seat across the table from her. “You don’t eat enough.” The comment sounded like an accusation.
Her brow lifted. “How would you know how much I eat?”
“You’re thin.” He recalled how her body felt in his arms. Voluptuous in some places, too slender in others. “And you’ve been looking pale lately. Maybe you should consider seeing a doctor.”
“I did.”
“Consider it?”
“Saw one. Mom insisted. She thought my hangover was hanging on too long.”
“So what’s wrong with you?” Concern made his tone gruff.
“That’s not really any of your bees—” She was cut off by his pointed glare. With a shrug she said, “I thought I had heartburn. Turns out it’s an ulcer. No big deal, I’m taking iron supplements now.”
“Iron pills for an ulcer.” His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
Kadence ducked her head. “Maybe a bleeding one?”
“You’re anemic.” That would explain a lot of things.
“I’m fine.”
A sudden thought inspired Tristan to search his kitchen cabinets. Finding the cellophane bag he was looking for, dumped the contents into a bowl. “Eat,” he ordered, setting it in front of her.
“Pumpkin seeds?”
“Roasted organic.” He sat back down.
“Sounds expensive.”
“They’re rich in iron. Now take a handful.”
She cocked her head at him. “You know you’re being silly, right?”
/>
He slid the bowl closer. “Eat.”
“Were you always this bossy?” She tilted her head back and sprinkled a few onto her tongue, unaware his eyes were fixed on the motion. “These are pretty good.” She grabbed another handful. With her head back and mouth wide open she looked like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
Or a woman about to swallow dick.
“Do you have to eat like that?” he muttered, doing a surreptitious crotch adjustment under the table.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. You want another coconut water?”
“Why are you scowling?”
“I’m not scowling.”
“Yes you are.”
He folded his arms. “No. I’m not.”
Several minutes of mutual staring passed until Kady expelled a sigh. “So, we ever going to talk about it?”
“What, my resting bitch face?”
“What happened back at the church.”
Breaking eye contact, Tristan raked his hair and pushed to his feet. “That shouldn’t have happened.” He was walking away, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Are you sorry?”
His head twisted back to her. Without hesitation he said, “No,” despite knowing that his answer was a sin greater than his conduct. “Was that what you wanted me to say?”
“Yes.”
His eyes widened slightly at that. “Are… you sorry?”
“No. Is that what you want to hear?”
Shaking his head, “It was wrong of me to act on my base desires.”
“Is that what I am, a base desire?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I’m a complication, you told me.”
“You’re a temptation. And I’m weak. I’m so goddamn weak you have no idea what it’s like for me not to—” He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t deny that I want you. I’ve always wanted you. But admitting that only makes it harder. On both of us.” As if to himself he said, “It can’t happen again.” The words were emphatic but the sentiment lacked confidence.
“I know,” she agreed, her tone just as unconvincing.
Neither said anything for a while, and to fill the chasm of awkward silence Kady started clearing the table. She was still wearing the blanket like a serape and clutched it to her chest as she stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and turned on the water.
Tristan came up behind her, standing so close she could feel his body heat through the thick wool. As he reached over her shoulder to turn off the faucet, her limbs liquefied in reaction. To keep herself standing, she clutched the front of the sink for support.
“I’ll take care if it,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek. “You should take that shower before it gets too late.”
~oOo~
Everything happening tonight was surreal. Showering in Tristan’s bathroom right now was yet one more example. Since she was stuck here until morning, Kady had decided to make the best of the situation and be comfortable. She’d washed out her panties and Tristan lent her pair of sweat-shorts and a tee-shirt to sleep in. He also insisted she take his bed while he slept on the couch. Even though they’d technically be in separate rooms, the thought of spending the night under the same roof with him made her belly feel like it was full of hummingbirds.
Her mind replaying the evening’s events, Kady was unaware she’d been washing between her legs a lot longer than necessary. (If her hand gliding sensually back and forth over her lathered pussy could be called washing.) She’d masturbated in the shower before, plenty. But this time she didn’t have to imagine Tristan’s hand pleasuring her, she could recall it in vivid detail. The memory drew a moan from her and she caressed her soapy breasts with her other hand.
Outside the church, the whiteout conditions were from snow. Inside the bathroom, from steam. The hot water was turned up high, filling the small space with clouds of moist steam so thick she could barely see a foot in front of her. Slowly the fog started to lift and she eventually saw that the reason was the open door. There was no need to ask herself how or why, the answer was standing in the threshold, imposing as a mountain rising from a morning mist.
It was as if she’d conjured him.
Tristan was watching her, expression inscrutable but the look of hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Kady could feel beams of heat searing into her, reddening her skin like a sunburn and leaving her feeling flushed and on fire but not from embarrassment. His blatantly sexual perusal of her body wasn’t making her feel self-conscience, only shamelessly aroused.
She didn’t remove her hand from between her thighs or the one toying with her nipples, and the longer she held his gaze the more turned-on she became. Her eyes flicked to the front of his sweat pants and the impressive tent told her she wasn’t alone in her desire.
“Tell me to leave,” he commanded, his voice strained and husky. He entered the bathroom and walked slowly toward her. “Shout. Get pissed. Yell at me to get the hell out of here. Tell me to leave you alone, Kadence, and I will, I swear. It won’t be easy but I’ll do it. All you have to do is tell me no.” He stood outside the sliding glass door. “Because if you don’t… I’m coming in there and it won’t be to take a fucking shower.”
Kady was drawing air in through her mouth and could see Tristan’s chest laboring for breath, as well. Fixing her eyes on his, she said not a word as she slid open the shower door and took a step back.
He dropped his head, hissed something under his breath that sounded like fuck, then without further preamble stripped off his clothes and stepped inside the stall. Capturing her face between his hands he scowled down at her, and before laying siege to her mouth muttered, “On your head be it.”
Holding her head in place, he kissed Kady as hungrily as he did in the church. Yet there was a roughness previously only hinted at. An urgency. A ferocity that bordered on fear. His kisses weren’t gentle or necessarily loving. He was kissing her with a desperation born from unfulfilled need.
Though Kady was keeping up with him, it wasn’t her lips greedily devouring Tristan but her hands. Ever since spying on him she’d ached to touch his skin and the muscles rippling and bunching beneath. Eagerly she explored every water-slicked inch of him, marveling at how he was sculpted like a Greek statue yet didn’t feel hard and cold like marble. He was solid and big as a giant panda and she wanted him.
Tristan’s hands were doing some possessive roaming of their own. Kneading her breasts, her ass, cupping her sex… “You should’ve told me, no.”
“Never.”
“Foolish girl,” he growled.
Kady had only felt his penis through the barrier of clothing, now skin-to-skin it was an astonishing sensation. She could only describe it as a cudgel of heat wrapped in satin, the feel of it thrilling as it pulsed against her soft belly. She had to touch it.
With a grunt, Tristan broke from their kiss as a tiny feminine hand closed around the masculine breadth and girth of him.
“It’s so big,” she whispered.
His cock bucked at her words. “Fuck, Kady,” he groaned.
She glanced up at him through her water-spiked lashes and the look of wonder and awe about did him in. Her hand slid up and down, so slowly the action seemed somewhat tentative yet felt fucking torturous. As her fingers traced the ropey blue veins running along his length, he squeezed his eyes in agony.
“Is this okay?” There was concern in her small voice.
“It’s more than okay,” he grated. If he didn’t know better he’d think the little vixen unsure of herself. “As you well know.” He scoffed a chuckle. Tease.
Her head was bent, eyes glued to his member like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “Does it feel good when I do this?” She stroked the sensitive ridge just under the crown.
He gritted his teeth. “Yeah… It feels good when you do that.” Holy Mother of God did it feel good. The din of the shower against the blood rushing in his ears was deafening, forcing him
to shut off the water.
It was apparent from what Kady was doing that she knew exactly where and how to push a man’s buttons. And yet her touch also felt strangely experimental. Exploratory. Giving Tristan a perplexing sense she was trying to familiarize herself.
Her next move made him rethink that.
Gripping his shaft, she lightly flicked the nail of her thumb into his tiny slit. He let out a hiss, which was followed by a string of guttural curses when she used the pad to smear pre-cum over the smooth glans. He wasn’t going to be able to withstand much more of her practiced innocent touching but had no intention of humiliating himself twice in one night.
“Enough,” he growled, hauling her roughly against him.
Startled, her hands flew up to splay against his chest, and in a moment of doubt he thought Kady was going to shove him away. When she slid them up to his neck and stretched upward with a lifted leg, he realized with relief she was trying to climb him. Getting a firm grip under her thighs, he hoisted her onto his hips. With her arms and legs wrapped around him, she clung to his big body like a koala hugging a tree trunk—a position that brought her womanhood in direct contact with his manhood.
He pressed her up against the wall and the cold hard tiles on her back barely fazed her, too focused was Kady on the massive protuberance wedged between her pussy lips. While Tristan ravaged her mouth, he moved her body up and down along his erection. Up. Down. Slow and controlled at first.
To stabilize himself he widened his stance, bent slightly at the knees. Up. Down. The pace picking up, his movements becoming more frenzied as his fever rose. “I need you,” he grunted.
The words Kady yearned to hear brought tears to her eyes. “I need you, too.”
Without thought or reason or an ounce of repentance he pumped her faster, plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth as if it were his cock fucking her cunt. Inches. Reaching down, he positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. Only a matter of inches and he’d be sliding for home. He wasn’t thinking about his holy vows or the fact he wasn’t wearing a condom or anything other than how much he wanted to thrust into her hot core.
FATHER: Men of the Cloth - Tristan (Forbidden Priest Romance 1) Page 18