Page 41
I glanced around the old church, my eyes sweeping over the rows of pews. Only a handful of people were scattered throughout the nave, each of them absorbed in their own prayers. Their heads bowed, hands clasped in prayer, they paid us no mind.
I turned back to him, lowering my voice to a furious hiss. “Were you eavesdropping?”
A slow, infuriating smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His hand slipped beneath my coat and wrapped around my waist, drawing me closer. The touch sent a jolt through me.
“Would you be mad if I had?”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “You have to forgive sins when in the church.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, my sins aren’t forgiven until I say my prayers. Five Hail Marys.”
“The only one you’re going to be praying to is me, baby.”
“You’ve lost your mind—”
His mouth crashed against mine, silencing me. My lips parted on their own and he slid his tongue inside my mouth. His kiss was deep and wet. Desperate. His guttural groan triggered hot, electric sparks between my thighs.
He ran his hands up and down my back while I shamelessly pushed my breasts against him. In a church, for Christ’s sake.
He scraped his teeth on my lower lip, smacked my ass, and hissed in my ear with strangled venom, “Get in there.”
With a nudge, he steered me toward the entrance of the booth. I stumbled in there on trembling legs and then just stared as he came behind me. We were on the side of the confessional booth that the priest occupied during my confession.
My eyes darted around the small, empty space.
I whipped my head around and fixed Tyran with a glare. “Were you pretending to be the priest during my confession?”
He scoffed. “Don’t be silly. You’d recognize my voice.”
“So you were eavesdropping?”
He didn’t deny it, but before I could say another word, his hands were back on my waist and he set me on the little bench. He tugged on the hem of his dress shirt I wore and pulled it up to my hips. Then, with a raw roughness, he pushed my thighs apart and sank between them on the wooden floor, his broad shoulders opening my legs wide for him.
His face was inches from my exposed pussy. He watched me like a starving man, his hot breaths sending shivers through me.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears while heat curled inside and my pussy throbbed with anticipation, but there was no way this was happening. We were in a confessional booth in the church. A priest could walk in at any moment.
“Ty, you can’t be—”
His mouth settled on my pussy, French kissing it, and all thought evaporated. My hips bucked and I choked out a moan.
He covered my mouth with his palm while his other hand held me in place.
“Bite my hand if it gets to be too much,” he rasped, then his mouth returned to my pussy, devouring me.
I shuddered under the feel of his wet, hot tongue as he took a slow lap from the entrance to my clit. He dragged his tongue along my slit, holding my gaze, and I clutched his hair, holding him in place even if he didn’t look like he had any intention of going anywhere.
He took his time licking me, groaning and humming. He ate me like I was his last meal.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, digging my hands into his thick hair and running my nails against his scalp. “I’m going to go to hell.”
He lifted his head, his lips and chin shiny, and there was nothing I found sexier than that. Fuck the sweatpants. Fuck abs. Tyran Callahan on his knees was the sexiest thing on this planet.
“I’ll be there waiting so we can be together,” he rasped, rubbing his stubble over the soft skin of my inner thigh as his eyes locked on me. “Start doing your Hail Marys.”
His tongue pushed into my entrance and a throaty moan vibrated between us. In and out. In and out. Pleasure ignited, burning through my bloodstream like the fires of hell.
