Lust: Chapter 12

Mariana drops to her knees and reaches for my hips. I glance down and see my own bare thighs. Why am I naked?

There’s no resisting her now. I’d have to be a saint. I’ll just give in. God will forgive me.

She smiles cheekily before leaning forward and slipping that beautiful mouth around my cock.

“Naughty girl,” I whisper.

Unbearable pleasure rushes through my gut with the force of a deluge, my heart pounding like a hammer. My office blurs, morphing into a dark room. The feel of Mari’s hot mouth becomes my hard, dry fist.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t be this disappointed. I always wake up when it gets to be too much. When her sweetness makes me so wild, I can no longer hold on to the ghostly hand of sleep.

I grit my teeth. I won’t jack off. I won’t do it.

Dreams are involuntary, but masturbating isn’t. Sure, God would forgive me. I’m already halfway to ecstasy. But I couldn’t forgive myself. Indulging lust only makes it more potent, and I have to stop fantasizing about the young woman who sees me as a mentor.

After a deep, steadying breath, I step out of bed. I’ll just have to start my day early. Staying in bed will only be a temptation.

Hours later, I’m in the church auditorium. The real-life Mariana stretches one long arm up to the top of the corkboard, and a swath of brown skin on her lower back is exposed.

She has beautiful skin that looks so, so soft.

“What do you think?” Gurshan asks.

When my head jerks up, he’s smirking at me. His gaze shoots to Mariana, then back to me.

Fuck. It’s all over his expression that he knows exactly what I was looking at.

I haven’t been able to stop. After that dream, I’ve been sensitive to her every movement.

It doesn’t make any sense. It wasn’t my first dream about her. I’ve been having them for weeks now.

Naughty girl. I desperately want to say those words to her. I want her to behave like such a bad girl that I lose my power to resist her. Then I want to bend her over my lap and spank her for it.

Fuck. Gurshan just said something.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Can you repeat that?”

“I was thinking of swapping ‘In Christ Alone’ with ‘Oh Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.’” He sets his guitar on a stand at the edge of the stage. “It’s a banger of a hymn.”

I nod, trying to maintain a placid expression. “Sure, that sounds good. We’ll try it at rehearsal.”

Gurshan looks at me for a moment longer before heading out of the church sanctuary. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to shake fantasies of Mariana from my senses.

I haven’t jacked off thinking about her. Not once since this strange lust for her began to stir within me.

That’s the one thing I have.

I make my way to the back of the church. “Hey, do you have a minute?”

She turns around, her dark hair swinging over her shoulder. Her brown eyes meet mine, and my stomach does a little turn.

“Sure, what’s up?”

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the wash of her sweet floral scent over me. “I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s okay. You seemed upset last night.”

She waves a hand. “I was more irritated than anything. I didn’t want to snap at my dad.”

I lower my chin. “I had a talk with him after you left. I didn’t like the way he treated you.”

Her eyes grow wide at first—as if she’s surprised—but then that mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “My big strong protector. I should start calling you Daddy.”

My whole body ignites into flames. Yes, you should, naughty girl. Get on your knees and thank me.

Oh fuck.

Fucking fuck. This isn’t good.

I glance at the corkboard, searching for a change of subject. “What are you doing?”

Her smile fades. “I’m rearranging the prayer requests. I hope you don’t mind.”

I take a breath to calm my racing pulse. “Why would you do that?”

Her eyes spark. “I decided to categorize them by topic. Loss of a loved one is this big section right here.” She points to the middle of the board. “I subdivided it by pets and people. These right here are family struggles, but I put breakups and divorce in their own category up there. And these are miscellaneous.”

The warmth blooming in my chest is calming my raging lust. I’m thankful for it. Mariana’s excitement fizzes out of her like champagne bubbles. I always found it adorable and infectious, long before I started seeing her differently.

I smile. “What was your rationale for rearranging them?”

She licks the corner of her mouth, drawing my attention to that full bottom lip. “I figured people who are going through some kind of trial probably want to pray for people going through a similar thing. This way, they can easily find it.”

I tilt my head. “Is this for the benefit of the one praying or the prayee, so to speak?”

She shrugs. “Both, probably. It’ll help the person praying sort through their own troubles, for one thing, and don’t pastors usually encourage people to pray with specificity?”

I smile. “We do, but why would an atheist care about this?”

A notch pulls between her dark brows. “I respect all the rituals, even if I don’t believe in them.”

“I never doubted it.” I take a step forward, as if pulled by a force from outside of me. You’re very kind and thoughtful.”

She tilts her head up to look at me, and a molten liquid heat floods my gut. Those lips are full and slightly pouted. The temptation to lean in and kiss her is overwhelming.

Fuck.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your project,” I clip out.

The last image I see before turning away is a flash of surprise in her dark eyes. I don’t care if I was abrupt. She’s too fucking tempting.

Mariana

“I’m going to head out,” I say.

Brandon’s head snaps up, his expression grim. “Alright.” His voice is hoarse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I pause, trying to read the strange energy that lingers in the air between us. He averts his gaze and stays silent.

He was about to kiss me today. I wasn’t imagining it. That’s why he’s been cold ever since.

Goddamn it, why can’t he just give in? If he’s willing to stand up to my dad when he oversteps, why not in this area, too? It was stupid of my dad to push Brandon and Sofia to get together. She’s still obsessed with Finn, and Brandon is trying to force a connection with her that he doesn’t feel.

I wait a moment longer before turning around and walking down the hall. A door is shut behind his eyes, and I refuse to force my way through it.

When I make it to my car, I rummage through my purse to find my phone. I can’t drive without music. After digging through pockets and pushing around receipts and lip glosses, I still can’t find it.

“Damn it,” I mutter before turning around and marching back inside the church. When I get back to my desk, my phone is sitting face up on my desk. I roll my eyes at myself, grab it and set it in my purse. I walk back into the hallway, and an odd sound halts me in my tracks.

Was that a groan?

Curiosity prickles over my skin like the adrenaline rush from a rollercoaster. That was Brandon’s voice, and it was the sound of…

Pleasure.

I tiptoe closer until I reach the door and open it as quietly as I can. The sight in front of me sends an otherworldly chill down my spine.

It can’t be.

I’m not really seeing this.

Brandon is standing with one hand braced on the corner of his desk while the other moves rapidly up and down as he strokes his…

Holy shit, that’s his penis.

It’s big and thick and veiny, just like I imagined. How is this happening? Am I dreaming?

His breathing quickens, and heat pools between my legs as I stand and watch, unable to move. I need to walk away. I don’t want him to see me, but my body is frozen.

“Mari,” he whispers my name like a prayer, using that Saturday-night service voice.

He never calls me Mari. It’s always Mariana.

His groaning gets louder, his face grimaced as if in pain, but it’s those eyes. Those inky-dark eyes are heavy lidded and dreamy.

He’s thinking about me right now. An almost unbearable tingle runs into my groin.

“My naughty girl,” he whispers, and my head jerks back. Oh my God. I’m witnessing his private fantasy.

About me.

Clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth, he pumps and strokes, faster and harder until sparkling droplets of sweat bead up on his forehead. His breathing quickens as ropes of come flood over his fist, intensifying until a gushing stream splashes on the wood floor beneath him. He lets out an animalistic roar before finally releasing the last drop.

I snap into action and start running down the hallway. I need to get out of here before he catches me. When I make it to the door, I slow my pace, lifting the metal knob as lightly as if it were the page of an antique book.

Before I know it, I’m sitting in my car, breathing heavily.

I just witnessed possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. So hot and so, so forbidden.

Brandon.

Masturbating and thinking about me.

Calling me his naughty girl.

He must have liked it when I called him Daddy earlier today.

My belly is on fire. Without a moment’s reflection, I slip my hand under my skirt until I find the seam of my underwear. The moment my finger reaches my clit, I release a moan.

When I close my eyes, I’m back in Brandon’s office, bent over his wooden desk with my ass in the air. “Naughty,” he says, but that’s as far as I get. The next moment, I’m panting as waves of heat shoot like arrows through my veins.

“Yes, Brandon,” I moan. “I’m your naughty girl.”

And I mean it.

I can’t be good after this. Not after what he revealed.

I’m going to tempt him, and I don’t even feel guilty about it.