CHAPTER 62
RUTH
His lips crashed against mine, hunbgrily. The kiss was nothing like the gentle, measured touches I imagined during my confessions. This was raw and consuming. It was like a man drowning and pulling me under with him.
His tongue slid between my lips, tasting of strawberry and desperation, and I moaned into his mouth.
The confessional booth was small. Maybe perfectly small. Our bodies pressed together, his cassock rough against my bare thighs. The hardness of the wall but into my back, but I didn't care.
Who would care when they are having their fantasy play out before them?
His hands trailed down to the hem of my skirt, pushing it up my thighs. His fingers were hit against my skin, trembling as the traced the line of my panties.
"Tell me this is real," he breathed
