Confession (5)

Candy’s POV

Father Julian wasn’t ready, or at least, he still thought he wasn’t. I left him after that electrifying kiss we shared, even though every inch of my body was screaming for him to keep touching me.

He didn’t know it yet, but he was playing a losing game. There were a lot of things he didn’t know; things he would never know. I liked the fact that he thought he was in control. I liked that he believed our meeting was by chance.

I took off my coat and stepped into the rain, clad in nothing but my lingerie. I attracted curious glances; a few people yelled at me to get out of the downpour. It was a heavy rain, but I didn’t move. This was my last ace.

I had always known Father Julian. I had sat through more of his masses than I could count. At first, I went for the fun of it, It was a joke, listening to him talk about hell and my soul being trashed, especially when the men in the front pews were the same ones paying to touch me on Tuesday nights. But I digress.

I had seen him at one of those masses: a bright-eyed boy who loved what he was doing. Then it turned into a silly attraction, and then it became an itch I needed to scratch so bad. I knew I wanted him, whatever it took. I knew he struggled with the sin of lust. I’d seen him drive by the club and slow down just to see the girls trooping in and out. I knew every move he made before he made it. Just like I knew that tonight, if I showed up drenched in nothing but lace, he wouldn’t turn me away.

He couldn't.

I stood in the downpour until the silk of my lingerie clung to me like a second skin. When I burst through the side door of the chapel, gasping and shivering, he was there.

"Candy?" His voice faltered as he turned, those eyes drinking me in unashamedly.

I wrapped my arms around myself, letting my coat slip just enough so he could see what was underneath. “I was d-drunk and I…”

He didn't hesitate. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my wet skin, and hauled me through the shadows toward the heavy oak door of the Sacristy. He slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the silent church.

"You're insane," he hissed, his eyes wild as they raked over me. The dim light caught the curve of my breasts through the soaked fabric. "If the other priests find you here, if anyone sees you—"

"But they won't," I whispered, stepping into his space. "Because you're going to hide me, Julian."

He backed me against the heavy vestment wardrobe, the scent of incense surrounding us. His breathing was labored, a frantic, uneven sound that told me he was already losing. Behind him, the gold vials of Holy Oil glinted, and a large, silver crucifix watched us from the wall with stony, silent eyes.

"You're freezing," he muttered, his hands trembling as he reached for a white linen cloth, an altar cloth, something far too important for the church to be used on me. He started to wipe the rain from my shoulders. But then his hand stopped. His thumb brushed the swell of my breast, and the air in the room vanished. He looked at me, his face a mask of agony and desire.

"Do it," I breathed, my hand finding the front of his robes. "Stop pretending, Julian. Your body wants this, I can feel it…"

He let out a low, guttural groan, the sound of a man finally breaking. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his rosary, the wooden beads clicking loudly. I thought he was going to pray, but instead, he wrapped the cord around his knuckles, his eyes dark with a terrifying intensity.

"You want the truth?" he rasped, pinning my wrists above my head against the wardrobe. "You want to know what I think of when I see you? All the things I want to do to you?”

He didn't wait for an answer. He crashed his lips onto mine. He bit down on my lower lip, tugging at it. His hands buried deep into my hair, leaving me wondering where a priest could have learned to kiss like that. He pushed the coat off my shoulders until it pooled on the floor.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands wandered down my bare back and over my ass. He caressed me as if unsure, but when I deepened the kiss, pushing my body into his, he found his resolve. He gripped me hard, his fingers and the rosary beads digging into my skin.

When we finally broke the kiss, we were both gasping. He pulled away to check the lock on the door. When he turned back, his eyes were pools of melted chocolate, dark with a hunger that looked like it could eat me alive.

“Take off your clothes,” he whispered in a strained voice.

I looked at him sultrily as I reached behind me to untie my lingerie. Slowly. This was a strip show for his eyes alone. I swayed my hips, licking my lips as my hands caressed my own body. I held his gaze as I undid my bra, letting my breasts spring free. I watched in delight as his gaze darkened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

I licked my lips, my eyes darting to the bulge in his pants. I wanted to tease him, but he was done waiting. He charged toward me, spun me around, and forced my hands above my head. Then, in one swift motion, he tied my wrists together with the rosary.

The heat between my legs flared instantly. “Father Julian,” I whimpered.

He ripped the rest of the lingerie away until I was stark naked. He pressed his body into my back, letting me feel the full weight of his hardness against my skin. He leaned into my ear, his hot breath making me shudder.

“Look what you’ve done to me, Candy…”

He had me pinned against the wall at first, his body pressed into mine. When I stole a glance at him, he looked like a man who had finally stopped fighting a drowning current and just let the water take him. He lifted me, my feet leaving the floor as he slammed me onto the heavy oak table where the vestments were usually laid out. The white linen cloth he’d used to dry me was bunched beneath my hips.

He was trembling, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his robes, his eyes fixed on mine with a terrifying, singular focus. He looked like he was about to devour me right there under the judging gaze of the silver crucifix.

Then, the world outside our bubble shattered.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Three heavy, rhythmic knocks echoed against the thick oak door of the Sacristy.

Julian froze. His entire body turned to stone, his hands stopping mid-motion on his belt. The color drained from his face, leaving him ghostly pale in the dim light.

"Father Julian?" A deep, gravelly voice called out from the other side. "Are you in there? The side door was left open... I saw the light."

Julian’s gaze darted to the door, then back to me, naked, my wrists bound by his own rosary, sprawled across the table. If that door opened, everything was over.

I didn't stay quiet. I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, and whispered:

"What are you going to tell him, Daddy?"

The handle of the door rattled loudly.

"Julian? I'm coming in."