“Don’t think you’re allowed to step foot outside just because Xavier let you go out with Dahlia once,” I turn before he can step outside the room to stop him in his tracks. “You’re still on house arrest. Don’t make me put the cuffs back on you.”
He mumbles under his breath and I don’t have to hear his words to know he’s being rude.
“You said something?”
“Not at all, sir.”
I snort.
“And don’t go spreading any nonsense!” He calls after me as I leave down the hall and this time it brings a smile to my lips. Within the last fifteen minutes, I’ve gone from hopeless nymphomaniac to spiteful asshole to lovesick fool. All while telling myself I wouldn’t chase Christian Adler.
When I visitBaachannext I may really need to get a charm and pray to some of those spirits of hers.
I can recognize a doomed man, even if it’s myself.
The church Cameron volunteers at is a fifteen-minute drive away on our side of the lake, without crossing the bridge to the city. So it’s easier for me to drive there myself instead of calling on Wesley. The church is small but still pretty popular for the people on this side, housing maybe nine hundred to a thousand people max. I think Cameron has been working there for a long time but I can’t say we know much about each other. I know he likes how I fuck him and although he has a pretty face, he’s sensible not to cross the line.
That’s good enough for me.
The parking lot for the church is empty and from the outside the church looks tightly closed, except for one or two lights on the inside.
I’ve come here maybe three times in my life and none of them were because I wanted to. Nevertheless, the entire structure feels foreign the moment I step inside, and when I close the door behind me, Cameron is already piercing me with a sharp glare.
He’s almost as tall as I am, and though he has a lean frame, he doesn’t have two-thirds of the muscle any of my men have. It doesn’t bother me, his face was what caught my eye in the first place, hazel eyes, with sharp cheekbones and wavyblond hair that stops at his neck. He’s still wearing the white robe that sets him apart as a member of the church, but I vaguely remember him telling me he doesn’t hold any important positions; he just volunteers to help with the little things.
The reason though, I can’t remember.
I walk towards him, through the aisle and between the pews lined up alongside us on the left and right and the crease in his brow visibly deepens, “Do you understand how crazy this is—?”
I cup his face in one hand and pull him towards me to sink my tongue into his mouth and his protests are effectively cut off.
“We can’t—do this here,” he tries between kisses, but I’ve been a bit past reason since the moment I was born. His protests weaken with each flick of my tongue against his—each wild pull of my teeth on his bottom lip. It’s only moments before he’s a mess in my hands and I pull away with an impatient command.
“Tongue out.”
The venomous look in his eyes hasn’t faded but a haze of lust and anticipation passes over his face as he sticks his tongue out for me.
It always makes my cock twitch. The moment when their fight breaks down into lust.
I tease him endlessly, licking and sucking the bundle of nerves in his mouth. Slowly. Painstakingly. Until his energy is a smoke screen before my eyes, making him weak. He’s panting when I’ve finally had enough—when I’m satisfied with the look in his eyes and convinced he’ll work properly now the way he’s meant to.
I whisper in a low voice, “Good boy.”
His energy shivers.
“Now get on your knees. Mouth open. Tongue out.”
He’s still wearing the fucking robes when I slide my cock into his waiting mouth in the centre of the aisle.
“Fucking sinful.”His mouth is warm and wet as I take him to the back of his throat and I can’t help the shiver up my spine.
“Just look at you,” I strain as I thrust in and out of him, and everything in the chamber is sending new excitement to my dick. They say that god’s presence can be felt more so in churches. If so, the feeling of him watching me now, ruining his little servant, makes me want to cum right here in his mouth.
“You pray to your god with this mouth today?” I rumble deeply and he moans, the sound reverberating around my cock and dragging my orgasm to the surface.
It’s Christian’s face I see beneath me when I cum. When I pull his hair back and stroke my cock. Spilling every last drop from my balls onto his face. His hair, his lashes, his cheeks. His broken protests only add to my ecstasy.
The image of Christian fades with the orgasm and when reality returns to reveal the real face beneath me, I drag my thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes are cute, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as Christian’s. And his energy is too murky. Suffocating. Not star-filled and bright like Christian’s.
