Confession Booth (5)

Naomi

I couldn't breathe.His touch. His voice. The way he said my name like a warning—like a prayer laced with hunger.

And God help me... the way I wanted more of it.

I stepped out into the cool evening air, my coat pulled tight around me, my heart thundering beneath it.

He said I should go. He always says that.

But his hands tell a different story. His eyes too—wild with want, even when he tries to bury it beneath holy robes and that calm, careful voice.

And now... he's invited me to his house. Not the booth.

Not behind locked church doors. His house.

I know I should feel guilt. Shame. Something.

But all I feel is this deep, aching anticipation—coiled in my belly like fire waiting to be fed.

I've never wanted anything more. The worst part? I know he wants it too. No matter how tightly he clutches that rosary. No matter how often he says this is the last time.

He'll always let me back in. And I'll keep sinning if it means I get to taste that look in his eyes again.

I reached into my p