In the last installment
In the first installment
Iâd been in his bedroom only once beforeâthe night I pushed open the door and found him stroking himself to my name, the night I dropped to my knees on the rug and crawled the last few feet to lick him clean, tongue chasing every thick, warm drop that had spilled over his fingers and coated his shaft while he groaned above me.
But the memory that burned hottest now was fresher, rawer: just moments ago in the sacristy, Lorenzo pinning me against the cabinet, filling me deep and deliberate. My body still throbbed with the echo of itâass tender and slick, hips marked with faint bruises from his grip, the phantom stretch of him lingering inside me.
Lorenzo sat on the edge of the mattress, black clerical shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, white collar stark against flushed skin, trousers long discarded. His cock rested heavy and thick against his thighâalready stirring again, glistening faintly from earlierâand his gaze lifted slowly, dark, unblinking, stripping away the last fragile pretense between us.
My knees trembled at the threshold.
He didnât speak. He didnât need to. The invitation was in the way he shifted, thighs parting just enough, cock twitching in silent command.
I crossed the floor and sank to my knees at his feet, head bowed, palms open on my thighs in instinctive offering. The air hung thick with lingering sinâours, unconfessed, unrepented, and already renewing itself.
His hand reached for me. I shuffled closer on my knees until my chest brushed his legs. He guided my head down to rest against the warm, muscled plane of his inner thigh.
The scent hit me immediately: the dark musk of his release mingled with the pungent, intimate tang of my own hole still clinging to his skinâa filthy perfume that made my cock jerk hard.
âClean your musk off me,â he murmured, thumb stroking the curve of my cheek with deceptive gentleness. âWith reverence.â
âYes, Father.â