It’s the four of us in the church basement last week, heads close together around a table, planning how to respond to Victory Life’s attacks.
Charlie’s hand rests on Adrian’s arm, the gesture casual but intimate.
Elijah leans close to her other side, his body angled protectively.
I’m standing behind her, my hand on the back of her chair.
Even in the grainy photo, the connection between us is unmistakable.
Below the image, a message that makes my stomach drop.
Smile for the camera. More where this came from. –Pastor Whitmore.
16
ELIJAH
The church is empty when I lock the main doors, the silence pressing against my ears like water.
My hands shake as I turn the ancient key, the metal cold against my palm.
I know what’s waiting for me in the confessional.
I know what we’re about to do, and the wrongness of it makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans.
Mon Dieu.We’ve crossed so many lines already, but this…this is different.
I find Marcus in the sacristy, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes burning with the same desperate need I’m feeling.
He doesn’t speak, just nods toward the confessional booths.
Adrian is already inside the priest’s side, I can see the shadow of his broad shoulders through the carved screen.
Charlie appears from the hallway, her dress swirling around her thighs as she moves.
The fabric clings to her curves in ways that make my dick harden.
I can see the outline of her nipples through the thin material, and I wonder if she’s wearing a bra.
The thought makes my dick even harder.
Her hazel eyes find mine, more green than gold in the dim light, and I see the same reckless hunger reflected there.
We’ve been so careful for weeks, stealing glances during Mass, brief touches when no one’s watching.
But Pastor Whitmore’s surveillance photos have made us realize how little time we might have left.
If we’re going to be destroyed anyway, we might as well burn completely.
Marcus moves first, opening the penitent’s side of the confessional. The booth is small, meant for one person kneeling in prayer.
The three of us will barely fit.
Charlie steps inside, and I follow, my body pressing against her back.
Marcus enters last, closing the door behind us.
The darkness is absolute except for the faint light filtering through the carved screen separating us from Adrian.
