“I’ll take that as a yes, you do like it. Yes?”
Michael swallowed and gasped.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sensation of her finger on that spot inside him caused every muscle in his back to knot up. His heels dug into the bed and he panted as if he’d just run a mile.
Vaguely and in the distance he heard Nora laughing as she continued to knead him.
“Born to be a bottom,” she sighed. “Can’t wait to torture Griffin with this news.”
At the mention of Griffin’s name, Michael squeezed his eyes tighter. Nora had said Griffin was bisexual. He’d been with men…sexually. Even maybe done this to other guys. Maybe even more. And without warning an image came unbidden into Michael’s mind. Griffin over him with his eyes half-closed with desire, bracing his strong, muscular body over Michael’s slighter frame…Michael’s leg over Griffin’s back, Griffin’s hand in Michael’s hair, Griffin’s lips on Michael’s throat, and Griffin’s…Griffin inside him. And not just his fingers.
“Come, Angel,” he heard Nora order before she brought her mouth down onto him. Once more Michael arched, pushed his feet into the bed, and came with desperate shuddering gasps that left his chest heaving and the muscles of his arms straining.
Nora pulled her fingers out of him. Slowly Michael opened his eyes and saw his bound wrists, the leather of the cuffs dark against his pale skin. If only he could stay here forever, cuffed and safe, he would never have to see the scars on his wrists again.
As Michael came back to himself, he felt Nora beginning to stroke him again. So soon after coming, her touch felt almost painful. But a good pain, a pain that set his nerves on edge again.
Raising his head he met Nora’s eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss turned into a bite that broke the skin of his bottom lip. In one kiss he tasted the copper of his blood, the sweetness of her body, the salt of his se**n. Nora moved over him, straddling his hips with her thighs.
“Is it really safe?” he asked nervously as she took his bare penis in her hand and started to guide him inside her.
“Don’t worry,” she said, caressing his chest, his shoulders with her lips. “I’m on the world’s best birth control.”
“Okay,” he sighed. More than okay. Her body burned like fire around him and he groaned as her heat enveloped him. She moved and he moved with her, into her. “If you’re sure, ma’am.”
“Very sure,” she said, moving against him. “Learned that the hard way.”
* * *
Slowly Suzanne turned around and found herself face-to-face with Father Stearns. He stood there looking at her with barely concealed amusement.
“Ms. Kanter, how nice to see you again.”
It took Suzanne a good three seconds to regain her composure enough to even speak.
“Father Stearns…I’m sorry. I just wanted to check out the sanctuary.”
“At ten o’clock on Saturday night?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Suzanne racked her brain trying to find the perfect lie. But nothing came to her. And something told her that no matter what she told him, he’d see right through it. So she decided to take a risk, a big risk, and tell him the truth.
“I’m investigating you,” she confessed.
“Yes, I know.”
“That doesn’t bother you? Doesn’t surprise you?”
“Neither.”
She raised her chin and stared into his steel-gray eyes. Steel, the perfect color to describe them. She’d never seen harder eyes in her life.
“They say you can tell an innocent man from a guilty one by arresting him. An innocent man panics and paces his jail cell. The guilty one relaxes. He’s caught. He’s done.”
She saw his eyes soften with a hint of amusement.
He stepped forward. As he brushed past her he dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Suzanne shivered. For some reason nearness of his mouth to her ear and his fearless defiance did something to her stomach, something not entirely unpleasant. She spun on her heel and followed him down the center aisle of the sanctuary.
“I got a tip about you. A fax with your name and the names of the two other priests up for bishop. Next to your name someone put an asterisk.”
“A terrifying piece of punctuation to be sure.”
“It is when it indicates a footnote. And that footnote said ‘Possible conflict of interest.’ Can you tell me what that conflict of interest is?”
Father Stearns stopped at a brass plaque with a roman numeral I above it. She stood a few feet away from him. As tall as he was, the distance made it easier to meet his eyes.
“I’m quite familiar with all of my interests, and I assure you none of them are conflicted.”
“Being a priest and having an interest in children is a conflict of interest. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would agree if it’s an unhealthy interest in children. Something I don’t have. If you doubt me, you are welcome to talk to every parent at this parish.”
Suzanne’s certainty that Father Stearns was a sexual predator wavered slightly at his calm conviction. But she pressed on, determined to find some sort of chink in his armor.
“What about Michael Dimir? Do you have an unhealthy interest in him?”
“I cannot and will not discuss Michael with you. I am his confessor.”
“Are you Nora Sutherlin’s confessor too?” she asked, putting suspicious emphasis on the word confessor.
Michael swallowed and gasped.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sensation of her finger on that spot inside him caused every muscle in his back to knot up. His heels dug into the bed and he panted as if he’d just run a mile.
Vaguely and in the distance he heard Nora laughing as she continued to knead him.
“Born to be a bottom,” she sighed. “Can’t wait to torture Griffin with this news.”
At the mention of Griffin’s name, Michael squeezed his eyes tighter. Nora had said Griffin was bisexual. He’d been with men…sexually. Even maybe done this to other guys. Maybe even more. And without warning an image came unbidden into Michael’s mind. Griffin over him with his eyes half-closed with desire, bracing his strong, muscular body over Michael’s slighter frame…Michael’s leg over Griffin’s back, Griffin’s hand in Michael’s hair, Griffin’s lips on Michael’s throat, and Griffin’s…Griffin inside him. And not just his fingers.
“Come, Angel,” he heard Nora order before she brought her mouth down onto him. Once more Michael arched, pushed his feet into the bed, and came with desperate shuddering gasps that left his chest heaving and the muscles of his arms straining.
Nora pulled her fingers out of him. Slowly Michael opened his eyes and saw his bound wrists, the leather of the cuffs dark against his pale skin. If only he could stay here forever, cuffed and safe, he would never have to see the scars on his wrists again.
As Michael came back to himself, he felt Nora beginning to stroke him again. So soon after coming, her touch felt almost painful. But a good pain, a pain that set his nerves on edge again.
Raising his head he met Nora’s eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss turned into a bite that broke the skin of his bottom lip. In one kiss he tasted the copper of his blood, the sweetness of her body, the salt of his se**n. Nora moved over him, straddling his hips with her thighs.
“Is it really safe?” he asked nervously as she took his bare penis in her hand and started to guide him inside her.
“Don’t worry,” she said, caressing his chest, his shoulders with her lips. “I’m on the world’s best birth control.”
“Okay,” he sighed. More than okay. Her body burned like fire around him and he groaned as her heat enveloped him. She moved and he moved with her, into her. “If you’re sure, ma’am.”
“Very sure,” she said, moving against him. “Learned that the hard way.”
* * *
Slowly Suzanne turned around and found herself face-to-face with Father Stearns. He stood there looking at her with barely concealed amusement.
“Ms. Kanter, how nice to see you again.”
It took Suzanne a good three seconds to regain her composure enough to even speak.
“Father Stearns…I’m sorry. I just wanted to check out the sanctuary.”
“At ten o’clock on Saturday night?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Suzanne racked her brain trying to find the perfect lie. But nothing came to her. And something told her that no matter what she told him, he’d see right through it. So she decided to take a risk, a big risk, and tell him the truth.
“I’m investigating you,” she confessed.
“Yes, I know.”
“That doesn’t bother you? Doesn’t surprise you?”
“Neither.”
She raised her chin and stared into his steel-gray eyes. Steel, the perfect color to describe them. She’d never seen harder eyes in her life.
“They say you can tell an innocent man from a guilty one by arresting him. An innocent man panics and paces his jail cell. The guilty one relaxes. He’s caught. He’s done.”
She saw his eyes soften with a hint of amusement.
He stepped forward. As he brushed past her he dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “I’m not afraid of you.”
Suzanne shivered. For some reason nearness of his mouth to her ear and his fearless defiance did something to her stomach, something not entirely unpleasant. She spun on her heel and followed him down the center aisle of the sanctuary.
“I got a tip about you. A fax with your name and the names of the two other priests up for bishop. Next to your name someone put an asterisk.”
“A terrifying piece of punctuation to be sure.”
“It is when it indicates a footnote. And that footnote said ‘Possible conflict of interest.’ Can you tell me what that conflict of interest is?”
Father Stearns stopped at a brass plaque with a roman numeral I above it. She stood a few feet away from him. As tall as he was, the distance made it easier to meet his eyes.
“I’m quite familiar with all of my interests, and I assure you none of them are conflicted.”
“Being a priest and having an interest in children is a conflict of interest. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would agree if it’s an unhealthy interest in children. Something I don’t have. If you doubt me, you are welcome to talk to every parent at this parish.”
Suzanne’s certainty that Father Stearns was a sexual predator wavered slightly at his calm conviction. But she pressed on, determined to find some sort of chink in his armor.
“What about Michael Dimir? Do you have an unhealthy interest in him?”
“I cannot and will not discuss Michael with you. I am his confessor.”
“Are you Nora Sutherlin’s confessor too?” she asked, putting suspicious emphasis on the word confessor.
