A/N: Sorry about the shorter length this time, but I hope what it lacks in length it makes up for in content. ;) Warning on this one guys, it gets steamy. Please note the M-rating and read accordingly.
Were God's eyes watching him? Did they see him allow her lips to dance along his, pecking down his chin and landing on his bare chest as her sharp fingernails pushed aside his robes? The thought should have sobered him; instead, he got harder. She was back at his trousers, and this time her hand slipped inside.
"Oh Monsignor," she whimpered close to his ear, "You barely fit into my hand."
Her words were foul, dirty, impure… he thrust himself into her hand and she smiled slyly. Before he registered what was happening, she was pushing him up on top of Jude's desk and, sliding her skirts up to her waist, was straddling his legs, her body crawling slowly and seductively further to his throbbing need. He tried not to notice the soft, milky skin just above her stockings and just below her hips, but his hands were on her warm legs and he hadn't even realized it.
"Have you ever felt anything like this before?" She was cooing, and taking his right hand in hers, moving it beneath her habit. "Soft… wet… silky…" His fingers slid over her most intimate parts, her hand forcing them to stay but he couldn't have pulled them away if he wanted to. Still, he was tense.
"C'mon, Monsignor," she whispered. "It's only fair. I felt yours…"
He gathered enough courage to slowly caress the foreign yet delicious area he'd only been able to dream about. She writhed above him, thrusting her hips forward with his touches, urging him to continue. Her blonde locks fell across her face and chest, and all he wanted was for her to be completely disrobed.
Her right hand moved back to his trousers and she gripped him with an increased amount of feverish desire and desperation. He groaned, gripped the desk, wondered how long he could hold himself before he had to release. Right as he began to think about giving in to a pleasure he'd never been able to achieve for himself, she released him and was repositioning herself above his now-exposed hard on.
Something twitched in his psyche, and somehow he woke up suddenly from his ecstasy, as if she were brandishing a weapon above him suddenly.
"Wait! Stop!" He pleaded, holding her hips. "I can't… no, I can't."
She pouted slightly. "Timothy…" she cooed again. "I know what you want. I know what you need."
"I need the Church," he rasped. "I need Rome. I can't commit this sin, Sister!"
"But you're so close," she said as she again wrapped her hand around his hardness. "C'mon, just a few…more…strokes…"
He grunted uncontrollably, squeezed shut his eyes and threw back his head as he felt her hand coax a powerful and rapturous climax from him. His chest was heaving, she was smiling largely, and somewhere, God was frowning on Timothy Howard as He never had before.