Page 79 of Forgive Me Father
But I hold his gaze, unflinching, the words hanging between us like a challenge, a promise, and a surrender all at once. The decision is his now, and the room seems to hold its breath, waiting for what comes next.
"Or else I’m walking out of here to meet Zoey and Luca—"
Before I can finish, his lips are on mine, silencing the threat with a kiss so fierce it leaves me breathless. The last button of my flannel gives way under his force, the fabric slipping to the floor, forgotten. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he lifts me off the desk by the loops of my jeans, pressing me against him, his hardlength digging into my thigh, sending a shiver of need through me.
As his hand moves toward his ring, a symbol of everything he’s trying to hold on to, I slam his hand back down on the desk, refusing to let this moment be tainted by guilt.
"Don’t—"
"Take it off," He hisses, eyes burning with intensity. "And put it on you," He seethes, his grip tightening on my chin. "I want my commitment to you to be equal to my commitment to God, Eden." Roman whispers, his voice trembling with raw emotion. He pries his finger free from the band, holding it in front of my outstretched hand. "I will kiss the ground you walk on, Eden Faulkner, so long as you can handle the demons that trail after me," He whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "Are you sure you can handle this?" He asks, his gaze locking onto mine, searching for any doubt.
"Slip on the damn ring, Roman," I snap, leaning in until our faces are inches apart.
Without hesitation, he slides the ring onto my finger; it feels foreign, heavy, and yet right. With a swift motion, he turns me around until my backside is flush against his chest, bending me over the desk. My pants are yanked down in one fluid motion, his hand wraps around my hair, pulling it tight.
Roman pauses, his eyes devouring the sight before him, the tension between us palpable, electric. His pants remain on, a symbol of the restraint he’s barely clinging to.
"What are you—"
"I will not fuck you in the Lord’s house," Roman whispers, his voice low, dangerous. "Not with my cock, at least." He reachestoward the bookshelf, his fingers curling around the marble cross, its base slender and smooth.
"Next lesson," He murmurs, glancing at the longer end of the cross. "Last time, it was six inches; this time, it’s seven," He smirks, his eyes dark with desire. "Just two more inches till you’re ready for me," He warns, his voice a tantalizing promise. He reaches for a small bottle on the shelf, holding it up for me to see—a vial of holy water.
With deliberate care, he pours the holy water over the cross, letting it trickle down my spine, the cool liquid running between my shoulder blades, down my back, and finally, onto my folds, where it mixes with the warmth already pooling there, my clit throbbing in anticipation.
"There," He whispers, his breath hot against my ear. "Now it’s blessed," He mocks, dragging my underwear down, exposing me fully. His finger traces my warmth, slow and deliberate, teasing, his touch both a promise and a threat.
"I guess I didn’t even need that, huh?" He murmurs, running the smooth end of the crucifix along my folds, teasing my entrance with its base.
"What’s that safe word again, Angel?" He asks, my forehead pressed to the desk.
I bite the inside of my cheek, stifling a laugh.
"Repent, Father," I smirk, craning my head back toward him, his hand buried in my hair. "That’s my safe word."
A soft sigh escapes him, a mixture of amusement and something darker, more primal. "We’re going to need a whole lot of that after this."
With deliberate slowness, he slides the end of the crucifix inside me, and I let out an ungodly moan, the sound reverberating through the empty room. Roman’s grip tightens, tugging my hair harder as he pushes deeper, the smooth marble stretching me in ways that make my toes curl. My body arches against the desk, my breasts pressing into the cold wood as I brace myself, feeling the solid weight of the cross fill me inch by inch.
When the horizontal crossbar hits, I gasp, the mix of pleasure and pain sending shockwaves through my body. All seven inches are buried inside me, and Roman pauses, letting me feel every inch of it before he slowly begins to drag it back out.
"Good fucking girl," Roman whispers, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches me squirm beneath him. "Now, the fun part."
He thrusts the crucifix back into me with a force that has me crying out, my hands gripping the edges of the desk for dear life. Roman doesn’t hold back, his movements quick and deliberate, driving the blessed object into me with an intensity that has my mind reeling, my body caught between heaven and hell.
"Roman," I gasp, the name falling from my lips like a prayer, my body trembling with every thrust.
"That’s it, Angel," He growls, his free hand snaking around to cover my mouth, muffling my moans as he continues his relentless pace. "Take it. Take it all."
The sound of the marble sliding in and out of me, slick with my arousal, fills the room, the sensation overwhelming as Roman brings me to the brink of madness, pushing me to the very edge of what I can handle.
"Repent," I whisper against his palm, my voice barely a breath.
"Not yet," He hisses, his hand moving from my mouth to my throat, squeezing just enough to make me see stars. "Not until you scream for me."
The combination of his grip on my throat, the crucifix filling me completely, and the sheer force of his thrusts is too much. My vision blurs, the room spinning as pleasure and pain intertwine, pulling me under until I’m lost in it, my body writhing beneath his control.
"Roman!" I scream, the word ripped from my throat as the climax crashes over me, my body convulsing with the force of it, tears streaming down my face as I surrender completely to him.
