Page 30 of Daddy's Sinner

“That’s exactly what I want,” she murmurs, a wicked smirk playing at her lips. Her voice is a sultry promise, a challenge that pulls me further into the abyss of my own desire.

I can’t resist her any longer.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” I whisper, my voice raspy with the tension that coils tightly within me. “Is that what you want? To sin with me here, in His house?” My thumb brushes her lower lip, and she gasps softly.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “I want you, Matheo. I want us to sin together.” I press Marisol against the cold, hard surface of the church pews, our bodies flush with feverish intensity. The sacred surroundings, once a place of solemnity and restraint, now serve as the backdrop for our unholy passion. Her breath is ragged, mingling with mine in a symphony of need.

Her hands explore me with a fervor that matches my own. I feel her fingers tremble slightly, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in her touch. My grip tightens on her hips, pulling her closer, as if trying to fuse us into one. Every touch, every kiss defies the sanctity of this place, a rebellion against everything this space was meant to represent.

Marisol’s moans are muffled against my lips as her body arches into mine with an urgency that drives me wild. I want to worship every inch of her, to make her feel the passion consuming me. My hands trace the line of her spine, finding their way to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Her lips are warm and soft, a tantalizing contrast to the cold surroundings.

Her desperation, her need for release, matches my own. I want to push us both to the edge of our desires and beyond. My hands roam lower, tracing the curve of her waist and slipping beneath the fabric of her dress. She shudders at my touch, her body responding eagerly.

Her moans grow louder, more insistent, as I continue to explore her. The only sounds in the silent church are our breaths and the rustling of fabric. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of us in this moment of intense desire.

Finally, on the brink of madness, I pull back slightly, looking into her eyes with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “Tell me what you need,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. “Tell me how to make this moment everything you’ve dreamed of.”

Marisol’s eyes meet mine, her expression a blend of raw need and intense longing. “Just be with me,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “Make me yours.”

And that I will.

“For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh,’” I murmur, my voice a low growl, the words a seductive prayer laced with the gravity of our sin. Her breath hitches, her eyes darkening with desire. She finishes the verse, her voice trembling with anticipation.

“… ‘And these are contrary one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would,’” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before our mouths collide in another desperate kiss. Her taste is sweet, sinful, and utterly addictive. Our tongues dance in a hungry rhythm, the heat radiating from her body, her soft curves pressing into me as I deepen the kiss. My hands slide down her sides, gripping her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.

I pull back slightly, my forehead resting against hers, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming. “‘For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life…’” I breathe, feeling the tension coil even tighter within me.

Her response is a soft, breathless whisper against my lips, “‘Is not of the Father, but is of the world.’” The finality of her words drives us deeper into the sin we’re about to commit, the gravity of it fueling our desire instead of dampening it.

There’s no turning back now.

I push her dress higher, exposing the soft, smooth skin of her thighs. She arches into me, her fingers twisting in my hair, urging me on. I want her, need her, and damn the consequences.

“Are you sure about this?” I manage to ask, needing to hear her consent, needing to know she wants this as much as I do.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her hand slips between us, running down the bulge in my pants. “Take me, Father,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “For I am a creature of sin.”

Without another word, I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as I hold her close. She clings to me, her lips devouring mine in a desperate, heated kiss. As I carry her toward the altar, our breaths mingle, hearts pounding in unison. Her dress rides higher, revealing more of her, and I pull it up further as we walk.

When we reach the altar, I set her down gently, but with an urgency that matches the intensity between us. I keep kissing her, my lips moving over hers with fervor, my hands roaming over the warmth of her exposed skin. Her dress is bunched around her waist, panties pushed aside, and the sheer thrill of what we're about to do—of finally giving in to this desire—consumes me entirely.

With a quick, practiced motion, I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants, the sound of metal and fabric almost deafening in the quiet of the church. My hands tremble slightly as I push my pants down just enough to free myself, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat between us. Marisol watches me, her eyes dark with anticipation. I position myself at her entrance, the tip of me brushing against her warmth, and with one slow, deliberate motion, I slip into her. Her cunt swallows me whole, hot and tight—a perfect fit. It takes everything in me not to lose myself in her right then. She gasps, her back arching off the altar. I still for a moment, allowing us both time to adjust to the overwhelming sensation before I move again.

I drag my cock out slowly, looking down as I push back in, causing her to mewl. Marisol’s legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper, turning her soft sighs of pleasure into moans that echo in the silent church. Lowering my head, I use my teeth to pull down her dress, exposing her perky breast. My mouth descends on it immediately, my tongue circling her dark areola before latching onto her nipple as I thrust into her. Her moans intensify, and I feel her walls clamp around me.

The feeling of her tight heat surrounding me is overwhelming. We’re not naked—our clothes are just haphazardly pushed aside—but it doesn’t matter. The raw, urgent connection between us is all-consuming. The altar stands before us, a symbol of sanctity we’re about to defile, but right now, all that matters is the passion between us.

I feel her walls clench around me, her body trembling with pleasure as I unravel her, piece by piece. The light filtering through the stained-glass windows casts' colorful patterns on our entwined bodies as we surrender to our forbidden desires. “You are magnificent,bella,” I moan, watching her take every inch of me so beautifully. My hand goes under her thigh, throwing it over my shoulder and spreading her wide for me, baring her entirely to my eager exploration. My thrusts are deeper this way, each motion drawing out whimpers and gasps from her sweet lips. I revel in each sound, each a testament to the pleasure I’m giving her, to the pleasure she’s giving me.

I’ll ruin her for anyone who comes after me, and I welcome that thought as I sink deeper into her. Marisol cries out my name—my real name. “Matheo.” Her walls tighten around me as I hit that spot inside her, drawing out sounds that push me closer to the edge. But this isn’t just about me; it’s about her. My thumb presses against her clit as her leg rests on my shoulder, her brows knitting together as I apply pressure. “Fuck,” she breathes, her voice trembling as I thrust inside her, my rhythm matching the circles I trace on her sensitive flesh.

I grip her hips, burying myself to the hilt, filling her completely. My hand slides to her throat, fingers curling gently around it as I feel her pulse race beneath my touch. “Do you want to see Heaven?” I ask, my voice a low growl. Her eyes flash with desire, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Only if you take me there, Matheo,” she replies, her voice hoarse with pleasure. I tighten my grip around her neck, my other hand working her clit relentlessly. “You breathe when I say you can. Let me show you God.”

She nods, the grin never leaving her face, even as she gasps for breath. There’s trust in her eyes—trust that I’ll guide her through this, that I won’t let her fall over the edge without catching her first.

“You’re so beautiful when you surrender,” I whisper, tightening my grip as I thrust deeper, harder, driving us both to the brink. I don’t care who hears, who sees. All that matters is the way she’s falling apart under my touch.

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