The Lust Journal
“The abuse stories. The missing girls from the Boston church. The rumors of payoffs, of girls who vanished after private ‘counseling.’ I thought you were—”
He cut me off with a kiss, mouth bruising, and tongue claiming, tasting of smoke and holy bread.
His hand replaced mine, two fingers curling inside me, thumb on my clit, and relentless, perfect.
I came hard, knees buckling, and his arm the only thing keeping me upright, my release flooding his fingers, dripping down my thighs, and pooling on the stone.
The cameras caught every shudder, every tear, and every drop.
He pulled back, lips wet with me, eyes glowing in the candlelight.
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