Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter

XXX

Lucien kissed her with desperate abandon. Much more than their fateful kiss only a few days before. He had poured his heart out to God, begging for some sign or guidance on what to do about this all-consuming need he had for Jean, a need he was forbidden from even feeling. And she had appeared to him in that moment when he needed her the most. She was here, in his arms, kissing him with all she had. Her elegant hands anchored his face to hers, but his own hands could not remain still, tracing over her back, feeling her lithe form beneath the jacket she wore.

Jean was not idle, though. Her hands soon moved from the back of his neck to his shirt, fumbling over the buttons. He followed her lead, undoing the few fastenings of her jacket. They broke from their kiss to push their respective coverings off their shoulders. Lucien was surprised to see that she wore only a nightgown beneath her jacket. It was plain but pretty. White cotton with a blue ribbon trim that left her shoulders bare. He'd never seen her wear so little before. He was panting already from their heady kiss but now, seeing her like this, he could hardly breathe.

She did not pause, however, for him to admire her. After pushing the shirt off, she rucked up his singlet from where it was still tucked into his trousers and peeled it off over his head. Before he could toss it aside, Jean's hands were on his torso, caressing his muscles and following her fingers with her kisses. He whimpered her name and boldly fisted the loose fabric of her nightgown in his hands. Jean looked up at him, her eyes dark and full of desire in a way he'd never believed he would see outside his dreams. Her lovely lips twitched into a hint of a smile. Lucien pulled the nightgown up. Jean did not stop him.

After stepping out of her shoes and kicking them aside, Jean stood there before him, wearing nothing but her knickers, bare in all her glory. The dim light of the church cast shadows on the pale, beautiful skin of her body. Every curve, ever freckle, ever inch of her was exquisite. His breath caught in his throat as he marveled at her.

But she did not allow him to pause for long. She took a half step forward and pulled him back into another fiery kiss. Her fingers traced the map of scars on his back, making him shiver with the intimacy of it. She was the first woman to ever see or touch his scars. She was the only person he ever wanted to show them to. She was the only person he ever wanted at all.

He wrapped his arms around her and let his hands wander the expanse of her skin. She was hot and soft and delicate beneath his touch. Her waist was thin, her stomach flat, her hips elegant, her breasts soft, her bum firm. He wanted more than anything to be able to take the time to explore her, to learn every part of her. But then her hands traveled down his body and unbuckled his belt and suddenly there was no time for anything at all.

Lucien pulled away just so that he could grasp her hips and lift her up to sit on top of the altar. Her legs spread to welcome him as she smiled. He stepped between her thighs and rained ardent kisses down her neck. She gasped and moaned at his efforts. Every sound from her made him harder.

Jean felt unhinged, almost as though she had no control over herself and her actions. But she knew exactly what she was doing. She could not have stopped herself if she'd tried, though she had not interest in trying. She wanted him. Here and now, forever and always. Holding him in her arms, feeling his lips on her skin and his hands trace her body, it all felt so very right.

Lucien's mouth traveled from her neck to her chest, lingering to dip his tongue in the hollow of her throat. A low moan fell from her lips. One of his hands gripped hard on her thigh and the other massaged her breast roughly, deliciously. Her body tingled with want for him. His wet kisses found her other breast, and Jean dug her fingernails into his scalp to keep him right where he was.

"Yes, please," she begged, needing him to know how desperately she desired him, how much she enjoyed his every attention.

"Oh Jean," he groaned, moving his head to her other breast.

He hooked his thumbs into this waistband of her knickers and, though his lips were closed over her tightly furled nipple, she shifted her hips to pull the last barrier away from her body.

Lucien, however, was not as naked as she. Ignoring the cold of the marble alter beneath her bum, Jean leaned forward to go back to her task of ridding Lucien of his trousers. He allowed her to unzip the fronts and push everything off his hips. His erection was hard and hot and throbbing as her hand closed around the shaft. He gasped in surprise. His dark, wild eyes searched hers for a moment. His cock twitched in her hand. Slowly, Jean began to stroke and pump him, and he kissed her deeply.

Jean felt some sort of sound come from the back of her throat as his tongue tangled with hers. He took her wrist and pulled her hand off of him, and before she knew it, his fingers had found their way between her legs. He stroked her wet folds and dipped inside her body. She whispered his name against his lips, begging him again.

He did not tease or keep her in suspense too long. He lined himself up with her entrance and pressed himself inside her, slowly at first. Only the head of his cock filled her before he pulled out. Jean could hardly breathe as her heart threatened to thunder out of her chest. Her fingers clutched his massive shoulders, and she kissed him again. This time, he slammed his hips into hers, thrusting to the hilt inside her. Jean cried out at the sudden stretching fullness that felt so incredibly good, she thought she would die and go to heaven in that moment.

His pace was frenzied. It was fast and deep and hard, and it was exactly what she wanted and needed. Their coupling matched the mania within her head and her heart. Lucien pounded into her over and over and over. Jean felt the coil of tension deep in her belly as his cock dragged against her inner walls and his hips caused friction just where she needed it. She was close, so close. It was almost too much.

She threw her head back, gasping for air as her body trembled with her climax. Her eyes fluttered, and through her own lashes, she saw the sight of the dark wooden crucifix on that red silk backdrop. Such a sight should have served as a dire warning, a symbol of her own doom. For here she was, naked and profane on the altar, making love to the priest of this very church.

But Jean felt no fear. She couldn't. For she had never felt more alive or more loved or more free than she did in that one moment. Let her be damned. Let them both be damned. This moment was worth an eternity of hellfire.

Lucien's pace faltered as he jerked and came with a deep groan. When he stilled, Jean leaned forward against his body, holding him in her arms. She traced his scars again, liking the feel of them under her fingers. His arms hung loose around her. Both their bodies were bathed in sweat.

They remained that way for a little while to catch their breath. Eventually Lucien looked up at her. His face looked lighter than she'd ever seen it. As though all of his torment had left him. Perhaps it had. "Jean," he whispered.

She held his cheeks in her hands, softly caressing his beard. Her lips tingled at the memory of the scratch of that beard all over her face and neck. "I love you," she whispered back. It suddenly occurred to her that, although she had know the truth of such feelings for months, she had not said those words to him. He had said it to her, after they'd kissed in the chapel. Perhaps it was only fitting that she told him the same after the dramatic increase of their physical expressions.

Lucien's face lit up, and he leaned in to kiss her softly. It was only then that he pulled out of her body. She shivered at the loss of him, though it was surely for the best. Sitting on that marble was now quite uncomfortable. He noticed the way she shifted and helped her get down onto her feet. "Here we are," he murmured.

Jean took a moment to indulge once again by wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek on his chest. She felt him return her embrace and rest his chin on the top of her head.

After another gentle moment, Lucien whispered, "Can you come stay the night with me?"

"I can't." She absolutely hated to say it, but it was true. She couldn't. But she felt Lucien stiffen in her arms, and she realized what he must have thought. She pulled back to look up at him. "Because I haven't got any clothes," she explained. "I can't leave your bed and go back home in just my nightgown in broad daylight."

He was smiling again at that. "Alright, I suppose that's a good reason."

She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently. "But maybe tomorrow? After Mass?"

Lucien looked confused. Tomorrow was Tuesday. "Mass?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," she reminded him. It would be a busy day with all the holiday services and events and the Nativity Play and all the other duties that Jean had already planned on helping him with. It would not be noticed if she brought a small holdall of her clothes along with the other items that would be needed. Besides, waking up on Christmas morning with Lucien beside her sounded like the best Christmas present she could imagine.

"A very merry Christmas for us," he said.

"Yes," she agreed with a light laugh.

It was time, then, for them to find their clothes and put themselves back together. Jean needed to get back home. She needed a bath and she needed to get some sleep.

Jean also made a mental note to come back early tomorrow so that she could clean the altar. The flower arrangement needed to be redone and the altar…well…

"You know," Lucien ventured, interrupting her thoughts as she found her shoes, "I think that in the greatest sense of irony, I have found that God must be real."

She was quite taken aback by that. "Oh?"

He stopped trying to do up the buttons of his shirt, leaving it open, and crossed back to her. "God must be real because He brought me you."

Jean's heart fluttered in her chest, and she smiled. And she thought that Lucien must be right.