Page 25 of Audacity

She’s waving that lovely pale bottom in my face, her bare cunt pink and glistening and marvellous, and all of it it is a red rag to a fucking bull. Before she can reply, I notch myself at her entrance. ‘This okay?’

‘God, yes,’ she moans with a little shimmy of her hips.

‘Good,’ I say and I push in. I move harder than I usually would, but she’s like the Niagara Falls down here, so I’m assuming lubrication is not a problem.

It strikes me in this moment, as I wedge myself inside her inch by excruciating inch, that it is apt indeed that she’s named after a goddess, because I’ve had sex—plenty of sex—since I threw myself head-first down my rabbit hole of sinful secularism, but Athena is on a different level.

I’m unsure just how fucked up it is that the most transactional—theonlytransactional—sex I’ve had is shaping up to be the least perfunctory by far.

Perhaps in this, as in all things, you get what you pay for.

She’s shaking as she takes me in. I release my dick, which is now wedged far enough inside her to direct itself, and grip her hip as I run my other hand down the delicate ridges of her spinal column.

In this moment, as I bottom out, they seem as sacred as a rosary.

A man could find peace here, buried astonishingly deep inside her while his fingers moves along the exquisite knots ofher spine just as they might slide over prayer beads. Even with the torturous burning of my need for release, my arousal flying around me like a maelstrom, there’s a kind of peace here, a hyper-presence at the heart of this storm.

We Catholics have a rich history of finding stillness in the confrontation of physical discomfort. Is my desperate need to rut and rut until I’ve emptied myself inside the vessel of Athena’s opulent body any less effective than whips or hair shirts or hot coals?

I don’t think so.

But being on the cusp of fucking Athena senseless is undoubtedly a pleasure of the flesh, and I’d do well to luxuriate in it, to soak myself in every last drop of the filth and depravity this moment offers.

And I do. I fucking do.

‘I’m going to move,’ I tell her, dragging my fingers back down over those rosary beads so I can grip both hips, because there is a time for praying, and there is a time for acting.

‘Do it,’ she begs. Her voice and her warmth and the tight glove of her body are enough to send a fellow insane. I pull out and drive back in, the glow of pleasure lighting me up as I bottom out again. She shunts forward with a small moan before righting herself and pushing back against me.

Fucking hell.

I brace on one hand so I can explore the lavish weight of her tits as they hang free. Her nipples are still rock hard, and I pinch one before caressing her whole breast.

‘Mmm,’ she whimpers.

Something godless and feral and base comes over me: a surge of satisfaction that I am inside this most glittering prize, this most magical woman. ‘Fuck, you’re worth every penny,’ I grit out as I ram into her again.

‘Better make good use of me,’ she says, breathing heavily. ‘Think about how crazy that photo of me holding my pussy open for you made me, like it was an invitation.And now you’re inside it.’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ I agree, driving mindlessly into her. That fleeting moment of stillness has shattered and my dick has taken over.

‘You just bought yourself one of the most exclusive whores in the country,’ she continues, standing her ground valiantly as I fuck her, ‘and you can doanythingto me. I can’t wait for you to tie me up and show me off and debase me and do whatever the fuck you want.’

A sickening arousal courses over me. ‘You like that? You like being reminded that you’re a whore while I fuck you like this on your hands and knees?’

‘I need it,’ she admits brokenly.

I didn’t know absolution could be like this.

What kind of fucked-up paradise am I in, I wonder as I fuck her and fuck her and fuck her, where absolution comes from the acknowledgment that I can, in fact, lean into every filthy, debasing urge I have because it’s not only what she likes butwhat she needs?

Dear Lord, I am so fucking damned.

‘I’m going to spend every day until you start this job thinking up ways to put you to work,’ I tell her with the bravado of a man so galvanised by the high of imminent orgasm that everything seems possible and permissible. I reach forward with one hand and wrap a thick rope of her beautiful hair around my fist, angling her head to one side so I can see the workings of her jaw and throat as her own pleasure grows.

‘Oh God,’ she moans. ‘Please do. You can do anything.’ Her words, her breaths, are growing more ragged with each thrust. ‘Oh fuck—fuck, I’m?—’

And she lets herself go.

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