Beauty and the Blitz (36 page)

I pulled away from Father Raphael, but he captured my hair in his fist. He pinned me against his body, head down in his lap and still. His rosaries tangled in my hair, but I didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Could she hear me? Did she know I was there?

Could she see how thick, hard, and vulgar Father Raphael’s cock glistened? He exposed himself, but the sight was obscured by the screen and the darkness of the church.

At least, I prayed it was.

“I’m not too late, am I, Father?” The woman asked.

I bit my lip.

Judy?

Why did it have to be
Judy
?

“Perhaps for tonight.” He cleared his throat. “Would you rather come back tomorrow, when it isn’t so late?”

“It’s only a small, teeny weeny sin. Five minutes, Father?”

He clutched my hair tighter. I leaned close to his cock, staring in wonder as his body had yet to soften.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll never refuse any who wish to confess to me.”

He meant it for me, still demanding my repentance. He was one to talk, especially as his hardness twitched so near my lips.

“Bless me, Father, it’s been a week since my last confession, and since then I have just been an absolute
witch
to my husband.”

Among others.

I hated myself for the thought. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be pleasuring him. I wasn’t supposed to be
hearing
this.

I held my breath, praying that my pounding heart wouldn’t tear itself apart as Judy began her confession. I clenched my eyes shut, but I still only saw his thick cock in my mind.

Hard and waiting.

Eager for the return of my lips.

No wonder I had responded in such a way last night. My body had slickened so shamefully I didn’t understand what such wetness could be for. Now I understood. It’d be impossible to take a man as large as him into me if I weren’t so prepared.

And I wanted to feel him.

So terribly. Horribly. Achingly.

I wanted all of him in me. Over me. Around me. I couldn’t imagine how
full
I’d feel, especially when I’d come from a single finger thrust within me. My knees had weakened, my body fell limp, and my very soul burst and shredded against the pleasure of that sin.

And now, to see what I had missed?

What I would miss?

How could I lament a sin I’d never commit?

Judy whispered her confession, and Father Raphael’s hand gripped me. I held my breath, eyes wide as he pulled me closer to him. Back to my knees. Rising up?

He pushed me into his lap.

My lips touched his cock once more.

This wasn’t happening.

I couldn’t pleasure him in the confessional. Not with someone so close. Not when we might have been discovered.

Ruined
.

The panic chilled me, but even those goose bumps became a torment. My stomach twisted. Was I terrified or excited?

I moved without any rational understanding. I took his cock in my mouth once more, knowing every flick of my tongue, kiss of my lips, and leisurely bob of my head drew him closer to that peak sin.

We’d never escape this darkness.

And yet it
wetted
me.

It destroyed my conscience.
This
was sin. All morals, all
humanity
faded from me, leaving only an insatiable and unrelenting desire to taste his ultimate pleasure.

Judy spoke in a rush, listing sins and accepting prayers so quickly she hardly needed to end her phone call. Father Raphael prayed over her, ordering a few Hail Marys and a conversation with her husband to examine the cause of her argument.

Judy thanked him and was on her phone before she left the confessional.

I stilled, listening for the doors to slam shut once more. I left his cock in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the head. He twitched, hard and furious. His rosaries pressed against me.

I didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

He rasped his words as he seized my hair. “Heaven forgive me.”

I gasped as his hips flexed. He thrust upwards, filling my mouth with his ravenous flesh. He pleasured himself—quickly, remorselessly, using my mouth to deliver him faster to that forbidden peak...

I welcomed him and gasped in quiet and overwhelmed awe as a man this strong and fierce could control my body with my own pleasure and my surrender to his will. He tensed. His cock pulsed.

Once.

Twice.

Three fierce strokes within my mouth, upon my lips. I readied for his release.

But he pulled away with a fierce groan. I tumbled to the floor of the confessional, waiting at his feet for the moment he’d reward us both with the casting of his seed.

It didn’t happen.

Father Raphael gritted his jaw, poised on the threat of oblivion. He didn’t touch his flesh. Didn’t stroke. Didn’t tug.

He did nothing but let the agony strike him in villainous shudders.

He denied himself.

He cast himself to the edge of amazement, oblivion, and damnation…and he retreated.

His breathing edged hard, gasped breaths that might have forged profanities in any other man. He prayed Latin words I didn’t understand. After a long minute, he finally took his cock in his hand. I longed for him to stroke it. Instead, he forced it in his pants and covered himself with the cassock once more.

I hadn’t moved.

He sat above me, staring at me in that intense, unflinching righteousness that had shamed me once before.

Now he shamed me again.

“Why didn’t you…” I whispered. “Why wouldn’t you take that gift?”

“Faith is my gift, and I’d sacrifice anything for it,” he said. “I told you I’d defeat this sin, Honor. And I have.”

His victory didn’t please him. His voice edged too harsh. Angry. Frustrated.

Proud.

“I can defeat our temptations,” he said.

I hated the implication. “And I can’t?”

“No.”

It was the first time I felt truly
filthy
, and it wasn’t a pleasant or wicked feeling. That tarnished, sullied,
darkness
allowed him to pity me.

And I had been pitied enough in my lifetime.

And shamed.

And lost.

I didn’t need it from him—even if he was right.

“Come here, my angel.”

“Don’t call me that.” I rose to my feet, shaking and disgusted. “You don’t think of me as an
angel
.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you?” I swallowed my pride. “You look at me and see a sinner. Someone who needs help. Someone you think is weak because I couldn’t deny my own body. You aren’t
helping
me, Father. You’re using me.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re using me to prove you wield power over
yourself
.”

His voice lowered. “I’m trying to help, Honor.”

“You aren’t helping anyone but yourself.” I stared into his eyes, searching for anything beneath the cold and calculating
pride
that manifested in his soul.

And I found something worse.

Something that frightened me more.

Pain
.

“What happened to you, Father?” I asked. “What made you this man? Why do you have to prove your willpower to yourself? Why do you think lust is a weapon? What happened that made you think sex was some sort of power over another person?”

“You really want to know?”

“I think I deserve an answer.”

Father Raphael couldn’t stand in the confessional. The walls were too small, and his body too fierce.

“The world is a dark place, full of demons and evil. It feasts on those innocent to it.” He stared at me, and I froze as his voice gave life to sheer
hatred
. “I want to protect you from a world of sin that would destroy your innocence.”

“You don’t want to protect me.”

“No?”

“You’re protecting yourself.”

His grin was cold. “Come to the rectory tonight. Midnight. I’ll give you the answers you want.”

No. I wasn’t falling victim to his arrogance again. Once was enough.

“Fine, I’ll be there. But I’m not looking for forgiveness.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to end this.”

M
idnight
.

Some believed it to be an unholy hour. I thought the opposite.

I used the stillness of the night to pray. The Liturgy of the Hours took dedication, practice, and time. The quiet in the dead of night, when all others slept through their sins and salvation, was my time to find peace.

But I had none tonight.

Honor arrived precisely at midnight.

And I knew I’d lost her.

My angel. Not fallen, but hurt. Enraged and insulted. Shamed because she was so very innocent to the world and its evils.

I welcomed her inside. Honor was content to scowl from the front step.

The only sin worse than what occurred in the confessional was if anyone saw a woman waiting on my porch at midnight.

“Come in,” I said. “Please.”

She didn’t move. Her arms tightly crossed, protecting her core. I wasn’t sure what she wished to hide from me, but I had seen it all. I’d memorized it all. Her body. Her curves. The erotic softness of her skin.

Nothing—not prayer, not willpower, not even confession—would ever have me forget such a gift.

Her lips strained, a frown stretching the usual plumpness. She looked away with swollen eyes. She had been crying. Because of me.

I’d caused this poor, beautiful creature such misery.

As if I didn’t hate myself already.

I hated to order her, but she’d always obeyed before. “Honor, please. If someone sees…”

“Right.” She swallowed and stepped within my home. “Couldn’t have that. What a
sin
.”

I didn’t recognize the pain in her voice. It would haunt me until the end of my days.

I closed the door, but she moved no farther than the entry. The least I could do was offer her a seat in the living room. A cup of coffee or cool drink.

Wasn’t that what men did for women?

Or was I lost in a world of blessings and prayers? I usually offered comfort for sins they had committed, not the pains I’d inflicted.

Honor wouldn’t have accepted my help. I doubted she wanted my apologies either. My greatest mistake wasn’t the touch we shared or the pleasure I gave. It was underestimating a strong woman.

“Do you want to sit?” I asked.

“No.”

“Can I get you anything—”

“No, Father.”

She stared at my cassock. It wasn’t necessary to wear it in my home, but I worried I wouldn’t act responsibly without the collar.

Especially after today.

Especially after the delight of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, and the enthusiasm she used to serve me in such a humbling and sinful manner.

Honor cast her pony tail over her shoulder. The thick curls of her hair fell behind her back. It exposed her face, her neck, the delicate curve of her ears with the tiny gold studs that glistened in the light. I wished she hadn’t frowned.

“I’m a
good
person, Father,” she said. “I try to be kind, even when others don’t deserve it.”

It shamed me to think that she questioned her virtues. “I know.”

“And I’m honest. Obviously. Or I never would’ve made the mistake of confessing to
you
.”

“It wasn’t a mistake, Honor.”

She didn’t believe me. “Yes, it was. I knew exactly what I was doing…what I hoped would happen by telling you those secrets.”

“And what was that?”

“This.” She extended her arms. “In some twisted part of my mind, I thought it’d get me
here
. With you. Talking to you. Touching you. Experiencing what we did.”

She didn’t say if it was a pleasure or a sin. Did she even know?

Did I?

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said. “Never. I’ve followed the commandments. I’ve respected people in and out of the church. I’ve never deliberately sinned.”

“I know.”

“So what is it then? Is it bad luck or a challenge to my soul? Am I encouraging this lust? Or are you doing it to me?”

The harsh edge in her voice returned. I didn’t like it, not only because she doubted me as a priest…

But because she blamed me as a man.

One who would never harm her.

One barely containing himself through prayer, the rosaries twisted in his hand.

I’d never lacked willpower. I’d never surrendered to desires—no matter how dark, seductive, or
necessary
.

Until her.

And I could ask her the same questions. Did she bait me? What did she challenge in me? How much longer could I hide my demons? I was already ruined by the nightmares of my past, but I could still save her.

“We are both sinners,” I said. “It’s natural. It’s human.”

She didn’t believe me. “Is it? You seem to have
control
over your sins.”

“Why do you question my faith?”

“Because it isn’t faith that guides you, Father Rafe,” she said. “It’s
pride
.”

The allegation stung. I gritted my teeth. “Pride is a sin.”

“So is most of what we do together.”

Honor turned away from me, pacing in the small room. I memorized each of her steps. She wasn’t supposed to be in my home, and yet now I could imagine her within my living room, my kitchen.

If only I could picture her in my bedroom.

“I trusted you, Father,” Honor said. “I knew it was wrong for us to meet so often. I shouldn’t have gotten so close.”

“I meant to help you. I wanted you to control your desires.”

“My feelings aren’t something that can be
controlled
, no matter how strong you think you are because you denied yourself today.” She breathed deep. “This has to end now. I’m done. I won’t let it happen again.”

She lashed me with truth, and the pain burrowed too deep, too fierce. I shook my head.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said. “What we feel is not weakness. Having you here gives me strength. It
reaffirms
my faith.”

“And it
hurts
me.”

“I never meant to cause you pain.”

“Then you
are
naïve,” she said. “How can you not see it?”

“See what?”

“You!” Her voice rose. “You’re this powerful and amazing man, and you call me
angel
. You tell me I’m beautiful. That is worse than any physical tease, Father.”

“You deserve the compliments.”

“It doesn’t work like that. When you speak to me…” Her words broke. “You know nothing can come from the words we say or the things we do. It’s like you
want
me to destroy myself.”

“Never.”

She pointed to the kitchen in a mix of anger, confusion, and pain. “And then…you give me such
pleasure
. I’ve never felt that way before. It was beautiful and amazing, and now it’s ugly. Sullied and dark.” She sighed. “I’m afraid to look in the mirror. I don’t know if I’ll see a confident, sensual woman…or some sort of demoness, tempting a man of God.”

“No.” My voice hardened. “No. You are pure and innocent. I wanted to protect that.”

“By making me feel horrible?”

“By making you feel
cherished
. Strengthened. I would never willingly lead you astray.”

“Surprise.”

“Honor, I consider myself a patient man,” I said. “I struggle to maintain that integrity. It’s a virtue that I prize.”

“One of your
many
.”

Her bitterness hurt us both. I exhaled, soothing the rising hackles that might have roused me to anger. But I wouldn’t have directed that rage at my angel.

It focused on myself.

Because she was absolutely right.

“You came to me in a moment of confusion,” I said. “You confessed those feelings, those urges. I did what I thought was right.”

“I don’t know if you’re lying or delusional.”

Neither, but I was angry now. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you wanted to help me. Maybe you wanted to guide me away from damnation.” She hesitated, her voice aching in betrayal. “Or maybe you thought it was a good opportunity to test
your
faith.”

“You think I’d willingly lead you into sin?”

“I think you’d lord your power over me. You already believe you’re stronger than me. You think you can confront sin and head-on, like it’s a battle to win or a war to wage.”

“It is.”

“It’s not!
Run from temptations that capture young people
. Timothy, 2:22.”

I’d never fought another person with the scripture before, and I wasn’t starting now. I stayed silent. Honor’s eyes widened. Weeping in anger and pain. Not sorrow. Not yet.

“You said it yourself.” She held her arms open. “We are human. We sin. We fail. We have to ask forgiveness for the urges that command us. But you? You treat it like it’s a
decision
. Like it’s something willingly entered into and willingly fought. It’s
not
, Father. And I see through you now.”

My voice lowered. “See through
what
?”

“You’re in pain.”

I turned away, clenching my jaw. The urge to lose my temper was beaten out of me at a young age, but some instincts were hard to abandon. Even the comforts of prayer and a life far from the abuse wouldn’t soothe what rage created in me.

Honor suffered from her own confusion. Her own pain.

It wasn’t anything like my pain. It wasn’t anything I’d ever admit again.

“Am I right, Father?”

Honor took no pleasure in her verbal castrations. And I gave her no indication of whether she was right, wrong, or completely inappropriate.

It didn’t matter. Her voice trembled without my reaction.

I marveled in my silence, almost
amused
as she berated me, herself, any sins of mine she thought caused her own disillusionment.

This was why I wanted to protect her. To spare her from these thoughts—such worry and needless posturing.

Honor quieted, but she still held my gaze.

Brave little angel.

“You’re hurting, Father. And you’re taking it out on me. You blame lust and sex for it, but that isn’t the full truth.”

“And what would you know of the truth?”

“Sex is power.” She shrugged. “Of
course
it is. I’ve realized that since the moment I confessed my desires to you. Sex is power…and you’re the one commanding it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You love that this lust is cast between us. You get to be the hero. You’re the godly one, the virtuous one. The only holy warrior who can reject the lust of man and the sins of another.”

“Easy, Honor.”

“I’m just the Eve to your Adam. The faith you’d have me
reaffirm
is the same damn story told thousands of times. Except in this retelling, you’d have me eat from the tree so you can
refuse
it. So you redeem yourself of whatever it was in your past that hurt you. And the only way to do that is by making me falter.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You’ve thought it.”

I clenched a fist. My fingers trembled, but this wasn’t my fight. It was Honor’s battle. She was the one who needed to speak, to be heard, to be
respected
in her fears.

I prayed for patience.

And I was ignored.

Nothing shielded me from my angel. Not the way her eyebrow arched as she spoke my name. Not how her body trembled, ached, and nearly crumbled as she revealed more of her soul to me now than she had ever shown in confession.

Except last night when her body, mind, and soul surrendered to me. I had worshiped her in that moment. Prized her. Owned her pleasure like it had always belonged to me and my sins.

“You’ve used me since the day we met,” she whispered. “You tricked me into thinking we could control ourselves and this passion. The only reason you’re encouraging this ridiculous
test of faith
is so that I fail.”

Nonsense. “Why would I want you to fail?”

“So
you
could be the one to save me.”

“Save
you
?” Now my voice did harden. I shed the patience and the kindness, the self-imposed softness and any bindings of my own invention which contained my rage. “My soul is just as endangered as yours.”

“And here I thought you’d learned how to
combat
your sins.”

There it was. The truth was as ugly as I feared it’d be.

“Are you upset because I didn’t let you bring me to
orgasm
?” I laughed. “Is it your pride that’s hurt? Examine your own sins, Honor. You came upon my hands, and it was beautiful and natural and the greatest sin I ever tasted. I offered you a chance to confess it, and you refused.”

Her voice trembled. “You
made
me come.”

“And I will forgive it.”

“Of
course
you will. Because that’s who you are. What you do. You are the savior of my wretched soul, aren’t you, Father?”

My breathing quickened. I abandoned prayer and counted to ten.

“Don’t insult me,” I warned. “You have no idea the torment I’m enduring.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that torment.” She tapped her chin. “The guys on campus call it
blue-balls
. I can see how it might be uncomfortable, unlike the pit of Hell calling me home.”

My words tasted of poison and ash. “You want to talk about
Hell
? What we did in the confessional was worse than a sin, Honor. That vow between priest and penitent was broken. If anyone
finds out what we did, I will be
excommunicated
.”

Just the word might have torn curtains and cracked the foundation of my soul.

Honor quieted. So did I.

“I violated more than just my
job
tonight,” I said. “I defiled a connection between a soul and God. And do you know why?”

She shook her head.

The truth stunned me, and I had no one I trusted who would understand, who would forgive me of this, my darkest confession.

“I would risk my faith, my vocation, my very soul because I can’t spend ten minutes apart from you.”

My words resonated. Honor looked away. Unacceptable. I forced the command into my voice, bidding her to meet my gaze.

“I wasn’t strong enough to push you away,” I said. “I couldn’t remove my cock from your lips for
five
minutes to hear a sinner’s confession. I was too obsessed with my own suffocating evils.”