2“Yes.” Nathan’s breath hitched once. “Sometimes the fantasy changes. Sometimes I’m the one who takes him. I imagine pushing him back into the confessional, the same one we’re in right now, and climbing into his lap. I imagine unbuttoning that black shirt, exposing the skin underneath, putting my mouth on his chest, his throat, the place just above the collar. I imagine sinking down onto him, taking him inside me that way, riding him while he holds onto the wooden walls of the booth like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling. I imagine making him come so hard he forgets every vow he’s ever spoken. And then I imagine him doing the same to me—turning me around, pressing me against the grille, fucking me from behind while people could walk into the church at any moment. The risk is part of it. The idea that we could be caught, that the whole parish could find out their priest was buried balls-deep in one of his own, makes me come harder than anything else.”Bill’s hands had cur
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