Emily covered her face with her hands-her hair wasn’t doing a good enough job-her voice muffled. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She dropped her hands, looking at her roommate and new friend, red-faced. “Because it’s true.”
“You and… you and Father Mark?” Alexis whispered. Her jaw dropped.
“I love him,” Emily said quickly, defiantly. Adding, “And he loves me.”
“Oh my God.” Alexis crossed herself without even thinking, like any good catholic girl, even as she took the Lord’s name in vain.
Emily burst into tears. She couldn’t help it.
“Oh no, Emily, no, don’t cry!” Alexis went over to Emily’s bed, sitting and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Listen, I don’t care. If they want my stupid TV, they can have it. That’s all they’re asking for, right? So we give it to them. No big deal.”
Emily sobbed harder, really giving into it, letting go of the tension, the secrets she’d been keeping, from Jenny and Eve’s horrible pranks to her love for Father Mark.
“You don’t understand.” Emily accepted Alexis’s offered Kleenex, loudly blowing her nose. “They just want to torment me. That’s all they’ve ever wanted. So we give them your TV. What are they going to ask for next? They’re not just going to stop.”
Alexis sighed, giving her friend another Kleenex. “I talked to Eve last night in the commons.”
“You did?”
“She was drunk. She said she’d been fighting with Jenny. I don’t think it’s Eve who keeps doing this to you. Or, at least, I think she’s really being influenced by Jenny. Do you know what she said?”
“What?”
“She said she wished she’d never traded rooms.”
Emily met her new friend’s eyes, realization dawning. “She wants you back.”
Alexis nodded. “But now she feels stuck.”
“Poor Eve.” Emily chewed her knuckle, thinking. She turned to her roommate, clutching her arm. “Alexis, I have an idea that may fix everything.”
“Everything?”
“Well maybe not hunger and world peace. But at least everything for us.”
Alexis sat forward, cross-legged and eager. “Tell me.”
She did.
* * * *
She worried all night about how she was going to manage it-they had a midnight curfew but she slipped out without incident, leaving Alexis snoring face down on her bed, and her entire dorm sleeping in the still October night. The air was cold enough to make her gasp. She felt safe, in spite of the darkness and the fact she was making the walk alone. All of the church property was gated, including the school, the church where they went to mass on Sundays, and the park.
Besides, all she could think about was Father Mark, waiting for her in the chapel. She used her iPhone-now fully charged, all the offensive messages erased-to light her way down the path, through the woods, being careful not to trip over logs. A twisted ankle now would be horrible timing. It seemed to take her forever to get the clearing, but then there it was, the black steeple rising up to touch the silvery orb of the moon overhead.
The side door was open, as he’d promised, and she slipped inside, breathless and shivering, from both cold and excitement. There were no lights on, but instead the warm glow of candles everywhere she looked, all over the podium, up the stairs, on the pews. Emily gasped at the effect, each point of light turning the little chapel into something even more holy and sacred.
“Father Mark?” she whispered, sure he was here somewhere.
“I think you can call me Mark now.” He stepped out of the vestibule, wearing jeans still, but his shirt was white now, the buttons unfastened almost to his navel, and he was barefoot. He had a blanket and a pillow in his arms. “You made it okay?”
Her only answer was to throw her arms around his neck, fastening her mouth to his. He caught her easily, the pillow and blanket forgotten in the heat of their kiss, hands and mouths exploring to depths neither of them could fathom, already. She trembled in his arms, and he carried her like that, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, past the pews and up to the dais. Behind the podium, there was a makeshift bed, with more blankets and pillows spread out on the floor in full view of all the religious statues.
“Isn’t this sacrilege?” she whispered as he went to his knees, settling her with one of the pillows beneath her head.
His lips caressed her ear. “It’s heaven.”
And it was.
They couldn’t have stopped it if they tried. Their lust was like a freight train bearing down at them, full speed. Father Mark tried to slow things down, kissing her long and passionately, caressing every inch of her body through her clothes, but it was all too much of a barrier for Emily. She had his shirt all the way off in an instant, her hands roaming over the hard muscles of his back and belly and chest, delighting in seeing him unclothed in the candlelight, but he denied her when she tried to unzip his jeans.
“Oh please,” she whispered, letting him unfasten her blouse and kiss his way down its V. She’d slipped her uniform clothes on before she left, too afraid to get caught outside of the dorm in her pajamas, and he was taking his slow, sweet time undressing her.
“Easy,” he murmured over the top of her generous cleavage, spilling over the cups of her bra.
But she was too impatient, unhooking her own bra, giving him her flesh. He groaned at the sight of her, taking both of her breasts in his hands, his tongue exploring, bathing her in his saliva. He captured her nipples between his lips, first one, then the other, sucking deep, moaning softly and shifting his hips away from her groping hands.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered, kissing his way down her belly, his tongue dipping briefly into her navel. “I’ve been dreaming about this for…”
“For how long?” she teased. He had her skirt pulled up and her panties halfway down to her knees.
“Since the moment I saw you,” he confessed, his cheeks pink as he had her lift her hips so he could unzip her skirt fully.
“Me too,” she admitted, wiggling her hips, letting him slide off her skirt and her panties so that she was completely nude, the candlelight throwing soft shadows over her belly as he settled himself between her legs.
“Oh Emily, you’re so soft.” He kissed the insides of her pale, trembling thighs, his cheek brushing the curly hair between her legs. “This must be what angels feel like.”
She just moaned as his tongue traced the bend of her leg, over the top of that triangle of hair, and then straight down the middle, parting her cleft. The sensation was too intense for words, and what he lacked in skill, he made up for in great enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure which of them was enjoying it more, because the sounds he made between her legs as he drank her in rivaled her own cries of pleasure.
“Here,” she begged him, parting her lips with wet fingers and showing him that sweet, sensitive spot. “Oh please, lick me here. Right here.”
He nudged her fingers out of the way with his tongue, focusing on that tiny bud of flesh, circling it, then flicking back and forth. Emily bucked her hips up, meeting his mouth, her whole body trembling with wanting. She was so close, so very close. His tongue made its rounds with no mercy, first hard and pointed, then flat and soft, driving her mad.
“Ohhhh now!” she cried, grabbing a fistful of his hair as she began to climax, her belly clenching, her spasms rocking them both.
“Oh Emily, you taste like heaven.” He lifted his head slowly, his face wet with her juices, giving her a dreamy look.
She smiled, reaching for him, and welcomed the weight of his body on hers and the bite of his zipper against her flesh as they kissed. He groaned when she sucked at his tongue and lips, licking the taste of her off his mouth. This time he didn’t stop her fumbling and she managed to get his zipper down and her hand inside his jeans.
“Oh my,” she murmured, eyes widening when she felt him in her hand, hot and hard.
He groaned as she fisted him. “You did that.”