A Game of Sins
“What if I wasn’t that nice?” It was a strange kick to be thought of as nice. My own family thought of me as a slut. They didn’t say the word, but it was obvious my father was thinking it.
I wasn’t sure I disagreed, either. Maybe I’d have been different in a different life, but I liked sex. I liked the illusion of power that it gave me. My life was utterly out of my control. I liked moments of control.
“You seem nice,” Luke said in that kind way.
“You’re wrong, but I like that you think so,” I said, and then I pushed him a little more. “Were you dangerous, father?”
“I like dangerous.” I stepped closer, standing as close as I could be without being inappropriate. “Tell me more.”
He clenched his jaw and looked away. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here.”
“Flirt . . .?” I said it like it was a question, but it wasn’t.
He nodded to a group of seminarians. When they were gone, he asked, “Why?”
“I’m bored. You’re interesting.” I leaned in and stretched up on my tip-toes. “And you’re sexy.”
He stared at my mouth, so I let my lips part. I made an approving noise as his eyes dilated and then I whispered, “And I’m not actually sweet or nice. If you knew what I was really thinking, you’d know that.”
He said nothing more, simply motioned me forward and walked me to the dorms. Whatever happened next, I knew already that that he was interested. The question was if he was going to act on it.
We walked across campus in the dark. He stayed an appropriate distance from me, and I figured that I’d let him do whatever he chose. I’d given him the invitation, assured him that I was interested, removed the risk of rejection. I was a sure thing. Knowing that was typically enough to make a man go from maybe to yes.
Several quiet moments passed and then he glanced over at me. I smiled and lowered my gaze, waiting. We kept walking, and I said nothing more.
When we reached the place where he would have to leave me, he quietly accepted the bait I’d offered and asked, “What were you really thinking?”
“I was imagining you fucking me on the pool table,” I said. “I’ll imagine it when I’m in my room, naked in my bed, too. Think about it with every stroke.”
“Oh, I can, Father Luke,” I assured him. “Do you fuck slowly? Deliberately? Or would you pound into me, desperate from having had no release in so long?”
He stared at me. His breathing was heavier. He was picturing it, too.
So, I continued, “Or do you still touch yourself, father?”
Luke swallowed, staring at me and refusing to answer.
“I wish I could watch,” I told him.
“Kenzie . . .”
Before walking away, I smiled and added, “Forgive me, father. I’m about to sin.”
He still stared at me. I could feel his gaze burning me up. I looked over my shoulder. When I glanced back, he still stood there, watching me.
So, I blew him a kiss.
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