I can hear Adrian’s breathing on the other side, already uneven. The sound sends electricity shooting through me.
“Forgive me, Father,” Charlie whispers, her voice trembling. “For I have sinned.”
The ritual words sound obscene in her mouth, and I feel Marcus’s body go rigid behind me.
My hands find Charlie’s waist, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breathing beneath my palms.
She’s wearing that cardigan she always has, slightly too big, and I want to slide it down her shoulder and bite the soft flesh at there.
“Tell me your sins, child.” Adrian’s voice is strained, barely controlled. I can picture him on the other side of the screen, his gray eyes dark with hunger, his rosary beads wrapped around his white-knuckled fist.
Charlie’s breath catches as my hands slide higher, finding the swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. “I’ve been having impure thoughts, Father. About men I shouldn’t want.”
“What kind of thoughts?” Adrian’s voice drops lower, more commanding.
Marcus’s hands join mine, one sliding down to grip Charlie’s hip, the other moving to her throat.
Not squeezing, just holding, possessive. I feel her pulse racing beneath his palm.
“I think about their hands on my body,” Charlie continues, her voice growing breathier as I trace the curve of her breast with my thumb. “I think about their mouths. I think about all three of them claiming me at once.”
Adrian makes a sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a prayer. “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
I push Charlie’s cardigan off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.
The dress underneath has a zipper down the back, and my fingers find it, sliding it down slowly.
The sound is obscenely loud in the small space.
“Tell me more,” Adrian commands. “Confess everything.”
Charlie’s dress falls away, revealing simple cotton underwear that somehow makes her more desirable than any lingerie could.
I can see the damp spot on the fabric, evidence of her want, and my cock throbs painfully.
“I want Marcus’s hands on me,” she whispers. “His tattooed arms holding me down while he speaks to me in Spanish. I want to taste the words on his tongue.”
Marcus groans, his hand sliding from her throat down between her breasts, feeling her heart hammer beneath his palm. “Dios mío,” he breathes against her ear. My God. “Eres tan hermosa.” You are so beautiful.
My hands trace the curve of her waist, her hips, memorizing every detail. “And what else do you want?” I ask, my French accent thickening with desire.
“I want Elijah’s mouth on me.” Charlie gasps as my fingers hook into the waistband of her underwear. “I want him to make me sing the way he makes the piano sing.”
I slide her underwear down slowly, kneeling in the cramped space to help her step out of them.
From this angle and closeness, I can see everything through the dim light, pink and glistening and perfect.
The scent of her arousal fills the small booth, and I have to grip her thighs to steady myself.
“Tu es parfaite,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “So fucking perfect.”
Through the screen, I hear Adrian’s breathing grow more ragged. “And what do you want from me?”
Charlie’s voice breaks slightly. “I want Father Cross to lose control. I want him to stop being so careful, so restrained. I want him to claim me like he owns me.”
Adrian growls, and the possessiveness in his voice makes all three of us shudder.
Marcus’s hand slides between Charlie’s thighs from behind, and she cries out softly.
