[Maria’s POV]
Today is our last chance to f**k properly before we flee. The midnight vigil drags on forever. Candles, chants, kneeling on cold stone—but every time Elias’s voice rises in the psalm I feel it between my legs like a stroke. I keep my eyes down, but I know he is watching me, and the thought alone has slick coating my thighs under the habit.
When the final blessing ends and the sisters file out toward their cells, I slip away first. The thunderstorm outside is raging, wind howling, rain lashing the windows like punishment. I climb the narrow spiral stairs to the bell tower, heart pounding louder than the thunder. He is already there, cassock soaked from the open arches, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wild.
The second the heavy door shuts behind me he is on me. No words
