Page 87 of Unholy Obsession

“What now?” she asks breathily, eyes meeting mine.

Her eyes are curious and excited.

I’m shaking as I take in the sight of her completely naked on the Lord’s altar.

She’s perfection.

Before her, I feel the weight of exactly who I am and shed the façade I’ve been hiding behind for so many years. I yank the priest’s collar from around my neck and fling it into the shadows.

I drop to my knees before her.

Filthy soul bared.

“Please,” I beg for what I don’t deserve. “Be my priest tonight.”

THIRTY-FOUR

MOIRA

Bane ison his knees before me.

He doesn’t see me as a broken thing. Or as a problem or inconvenience.

He’s looking up at me like a goddess.

He called mehispriest.

I sit up taller and cross a leg elegantly over the other as I stare down at him. I’ve been messy and weeping at his feet and an absolute and total manic mess. Even now, I have to fight tears at the amount of trust he’s placing in me.

In his gaze, I read total devotion, and it gives me strength.

In his eyes, I see who I could be.

Who, to him, I alreadyam.

My chest clenches, and then, looking at him kneeling in a penitent position, it hits me—foronce, I’m not the one on my knees. That floor doesn’t look soft, either.

’Cause, Jesus. How many hard floors have I kneeled on, bowing down to men while I gave them blow jobs? How many grimy tiles have I looked at up close and personal while I bentover so I was all but touching my toes so they could get a better angle to fuck me in a bar bathroom stall?

No one’s ever let me take the power. To be fair, I also haven’t gone seeking it out. And I—I think some part of me never believed I was capable of holding it. Or that I deserved it.

Bane’s dropped his face to the ground. Just like I’ve seen so many little good subbies do at the club. It’s such an incongruous look on such a big, confident man. I mean, yes, I’ve seen plenty of big gay guys as subs, but a powerful, hetero man submitting like… likethis? I’m probably stereotyping, but good Lord.

The sight of him has my stomach sweeping out with lust.

I put my foot on his shoulder and kick him back lightly, just to see how he reacts. He tips backward easily, absorbing my motion and then returning to the perfect position, head bowed.

I bite my bottom lip and look around the altar table. In the dark, with nothing but candlelight and as naked as I am, I feel wild and a little pagan. I stretch my arms out over my head and breathe in so deeply that my lungs fill all the way up. My arms arc slowly down as I breathe out.

All my worries and anxiety from the day dissolve with my released breath. Nothing matters but the satisfaction I’m about to chase with this man. There’s nothing in the whole world except the oiled wood of this church, our two bodies, and the things we’ll do to one another.

No other moments exist outside this one.

I reach over and pick up one of the last scattered communion wafers from a silver plate. Then I spread my legs wide, lifting one ankle up toward my shoulder.

Carefully, I place the little round wafer between the lips of my sex.

“My body,” I whisper. “Broken for you. Eat, and be cleansed of your sins.”

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