Holy Sins

Unholy Dreams

AERIS

I forced myself out of bed, legs shaky, and dressed quickly. The church was quiet when I arrived, the air still heavy with incense from the funeral. Father Dominic’s burial had been that afternoon. Ronan had stood at the graveside like stone, jaw tight, eyes hollow. I knew he needed someone. I knew he needed me.

I knocked once on his door before pushing it open. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still in his black clerical shirt, collar unbuttoned, head in his hands. The room smelled like soap, incense, and something darker, something raw.

"Ronan," I whispered, closing the door behind me. "I’m here."

He looked up, eyes red-rimmed, and for a second I thought he might send me away.

Instead he reached for me, pulling me between his knees, burying his face against my stomach. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

"He’s gone," he said, voice rough. "Dominic’s gone and I’m… I’m lost, Anne."

I stroked his hair, then tilted his face up.

"You’re not lost. You have me."

Something snapped in him. He stood, towering over me, and kissed me like he was drowning. His mouth was hot, desperate, tongue pushing past my lips as his hands tore at my clothes.

I helped him, yanking my shirt over my head, shoving my skirt down until I stood naked in front of him. His eyes raked over me, hungry and broken.

"I shouldn’t," he muttered, but his hands were already on my breasts, thumbs circling my n*****s until they hardened.

"God help me, I need you."

I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt, freeing his c**k.

It sprang out thick and flushed, the head already glistening. I wrapped my fingers around the base and licked a slow stripe up the underside, tasting salt and skin. Ronan groaned, one hand fisting my hair.

"Suck it," he ordered, voice low and dark. "Take it all."

I opened my mouth and took him deep, gagging as the head hit the back of my throat. He didn’t ease up. He f****d my mouth in steady thrusts, using my hair to guide me, spit running down my chin onto my t**s. I moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk.

"f**k, Anne… your mouth is sin," he growled. He pulled me off, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his c**k. "On the bed. Now."

I climbed onto the mattress on all fours, ass up, p***y exposed and dripping.

Ronan stripped the rest of the way, cassock and shirt discarded, and knelt behind me. He spread my cheeks with both hands and dragged his tongue from my c**t to my asshole in one long, filthy lick. I cried out, pushing back against his face.

He ate me like a starving man,tongue f*****g my cunt, sucking my c**t, then moving higher to circle my tight hole. Two fingers pushed inside my p***y, curling against that spot that made my vision blur. I came hard, thighs shaking, juices coating his hand.

Before I could recover he lined up and shoved his c**k into me in one brutal thrust.

I screamed into the pillow, stretched wide around him. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He f****d me like he hated me, hips snapping, balls slapping against my c**t with every stroke. The headboard slammed against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Take it," he snarled, one hand gripping my hip, the other wrapping around my throat from behind. "Take every inch of my sin."

He flipped me onto my back, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and drove in deeper.

The new angle made me see stars. His c**k dragged against my front wall with every thrust, hitting that perfect spot. I clawed at his back, nails drawing blood, and he only f****d me harder.

"Look at me," he demanded. I opened my eyes. His face was flushed, sweat dripping down his chest, eyes wild. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want a priest’s c**k ruining your cunt."

"I want it," I gasped. "I want you to f**k me until I can’t walk. Fill me up, Ronan. Breed me like the w***e I am for you."

He groaned like I’d stabbed him and slammed into the hilt.

His rhythm grew erratic. He reached between us and rubbed my c**t in tight circles. I came again, p***y clenching around him, milking his c**k. He followed with a broken moan, pumping thick ropes of c*m deep inside me until it leaked out around his shaft.

He didn’t pull out. He stayed buried in me, breathing hard, forehead pressed to mine.

After a moment he started moving again slow, shallow thrusts, pushing his c*m deeper. His c**k never softened completely.

"Again," he whispered. "I need you again."

He pulled out and flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. This time he spat on my asshole and pressed his thumb against it. I pushed back, eager, and he worked the digit inside while his c**k slid back into my c*m-slick p***y. The dual sensation made me sob with pleasure.

He f****d me like that for what felt like hours switching holes, using my mouth, making me taste my own cunt on his c**k before shoving it back inside me.

He came twice more: once down my throat, once across my t**s while I fingered myself to another orgasm. By the time he finally collapsed beside me, both of us were shaking, covered in sweat and c*m, the sheets ruined.

The ringing of my phone jolted me awake, the alarm cutting through the haze of sleep like a blade. My body was slick with sweat, sheets tangled around my legs, and the unmistakable throb between my thighs told me everything. Another dream. Another filthy, aching dream about Father Ronan.

I lay there for a moment, breathing hard, my fingers drifting down to feel the wet heat between my legs. My c**t was swollen, my p***y dripping, the dream still vivid behind my eyes.

The worst part wasn't the dream. It was the fact that, for a few perfect seconds after waking, I'd wished it were real.