I watched Ezekiel undress, my thighs squeezing together on their own, as if my body was unable to fight the carnal attraction between us. I truly was not the same girl I was three years ago. I’d come so far. The old me never would’ve imagined my future self having sex with a priest—or, you know, sex with anyone.
Once he wore nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, my breath caught in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe as I stared at him, taking in his mostly-naked form. He was just as I imagined he was: thick, muscular, the very definition of a man. His muscles rivaled Cade’s, for fuck’s sake. Truly, Ezekiel was no ordinary priest, but we knew that already.
His shoulders were wide and sculpted. His chest rippled with strength, his biceps veiny. His stomach was flat yet defined with those beautiful square muscles that told me Ezekiel took care of his body. You didn’t get muscles like that by eating lots and being lazy.
And those boxer briefs? Let’s just say they left nothing to the imagination, and my gut burned with heat as I imagined pulling them down and revealing his hard cock.
Ezekiel’s gaze dropped to my stomach, and he stepped over his clothes to get to me. A hand lifted, and he touched the skin around the scab on my stomach. Feeling someone else’s hand on me, having it so close to my injury, made me inhale sharply. It didn’t hurt, but it was sore—I was able to ignore it by focusing on the way his fingertips glided over my skin.
He was a killer, just like me, and yet his touches could be so soft, so tender. How was that for fucked up? No, wait. The fucked-up part was that I liked it. I didn’t recoil or cringe away from it; I craved it, craved him and those hands.
Turned out, some hands weren’t so bad.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed out, eyes flicking up to meet mine. The way that stare made me feel… I couldn’t describe it. It was like a thousand butterflies had been unleashed in my body, like my knees had suddenly decided to wobble a bit. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I didn’t know what to say.
The bizarre thing was, I believed him.
His hand fell from my stomach, and he didn’t say a single word more. He simply turned around, showing me his bare back, and the moment he did, it was like I was hit by a train, a wall of bricks. I took a step back, unable to tear my gaze off his back and what lay on it.
Scars. So many scars. Lengthy, slender things. Long-since healed up, so I knew he’d had them a while. Years, possibly since he was a child. What was it he’d told me? We were alike in that the people who should’ve protected us had failed us.
Did his parents do this to him?
I couldn’t ask, because right then, Ezekiel faced me once more, sweeping towards me, taking me into his arms. His hands worked to undo the clasp on my bra, but I was still stuck on what I saw on his back.
Those weren’t the scars of a knife. They were long, yes, but too long, and too uneven. Obviously, they weren’t from any gun, either. So then what were they from? Who did that to him?
I decided to ask, “Who did that to you?” My bra fell away, and now we both only wore underwear. I angled my head up to him, waiting, needing to hear that whoever had marked him up like that was long dead. If they weren’t, I’d see to it that they were six feet under soon enough.
Ezekiel whispered, “When I was young, very young, my father drank a lot. He got angry. He’d take me out back, drag me into the barn with the animals, and…” His black brows creased as he remembered what must’ve been the worst time in his life. “He’d whip me until I passed out.”
“Oh, God.”
He sent me a rueful smile, but then that smile was gone within seconds. “God had nothing to do with it.”
“Did you…”
“Did I kill him? No, but someone else did, and it is that darkness I owe everything to. My life, my future… my present.” His hands lifted to cup my face, holding onto me like I was something precious, something to be adored, loved, and protected. “He gave me a purpose, just as you now do. You are my purpose now, Giselle, whether you realize it or not.” He kissed me again, and whatever reply I might’ve had was stifled.
I was glad he got help. I was glad he was here now, that his childhood didn’t claim his life. Whoever, whatever that darkness was, I was thankful for it. If he wanted to become my darkness, I wouldn’t stop him. In fact, I’d welcome it.
Bring on the pain. Bring on the blood. Bring on the death and the destruction, as long as this monster was mine.
After that, it was a rush to get off the last bit of clothing separating us, and once we were completely nude, we lowered our embrace to the floor. Directly before the altar, near the few steps that raised the altar above the rest of the church, was where we would become one. In the eyes of his God, making not only each other but also this place ours.
I lay on the carpet, my back a bit uncomfortable from the stiff flooring choice, but that was probably because this carpet wasn’t meant to be used as a makeshift bed. No sex was supposed to happen in this holy place.
Whatever. Let us do some desecration. It wouldn’t be the first church I’d done some sinning in.
Ezekiel was above me, his body utterly bare. His cock was hard and veiny, its tip bulging with precum, a key signal of his desire for me, his lust. Knowing I brought it out of him filled me with something I couldn’t describe, a deep satisfaction.
Couldn’t say I imagined this happening when I’d first arrived at the church tonight, but you know what? I didn’t care. I liked it. I needed this. A bodily release, fully letting go, much like I’d done in the Playground.
Only this wasn’t with Cade. This was Ezekiel. I couldn’t fight the feeling that he was now my Ezekiel, not the Black Hand’s priest. Not Cypress’s messenger. No, he belonged to me now.
“Tell me if I’m too rough with you,” Ezekiel said, his body hovering above mine. My legs were opened, my inner core ready and waiting for him to push inside. “I don’t want to hurt you, Giselle. Tell me if it hurts, and I will pull back.” The way he spoke, how earnest he sounded, I knew he meant it. If I told him to stop, he would. He might be a murdering, maiming priest breaking all of his vows for me, but he was still a gentleman.
I quivered in anticipation, giving him a short nod.