After supper and evening chores, Emer usually went for nightly walks. The sun was setting and there was a slight chill in the air, but she found it exhilarating. She followed one of the paths to the garden behind the chapel. She stopped to marvel at a statue: Mary Magdalene; the patron saint of sinners. "The Penitent." A true symbol of repentance in the contemplative life of the convent.
"She gives y'a lot ta think 'bout, aye?"
"Jesus Christ!" Emer swore, gasping in shock. She turned to find Connor, one of the men from earlier this evening, leaning in the shadows, casually pressed against a tree.
"Didn't mean ta startle ye, lass. Was only lookin' ta talk t'ye a'gin." He chuckled, pushing himself off the tree and taking a few long steps forward.
"It couldn't have waited?" She sighed, still short on breath. "You shouldn't be here."
"Don' exactly fit in." He smirked.
"No, I mean I can get kicked out for being seen with you unannounced."
"Then let's make sure no one knows I'm 'ere." He shrugged, walking up beside her.
"Do you often do this? Prey on young women in dark parks?"
"Among other things." He chuckled, giving her a knowing look.
She ignored his eyes. "Where's your better half?"
"Better off not knowin' where I am." He shrugged. "It'll be our little secret."
She visibly shivered at his admission. For the moment, her curiosity outweighed her nervousness. "Why are you here?"
"Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout ye." He shrugged. "'Bout what ye said earlier, I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"Ye said ye made a lot o' bad choices. Ye 'ad a lot o' regrets. But 'ere ye are; makin' the ultimate sacrifice."
"It's the only way to find absolution." She practically whispered.
He craned his neck, giving her a leering look. "What exactly is it that yer runnin' from, lass?"
"It's not important." She answered, hastily.
"Ye don' 'ave ta tell me. Was juss wonderin', is all. M'brudder an I… we've been thinkin' a lot 'bout ye."
"How's that?" She asked, quietly.
"'Bout yer decision. We wanted ta make sure y'were… well informed." He said, running his forefinger over his upper lip. 'Veritas', it read.
"Truth?" She asked quietly.
He smirked, looking at his hand, then used that same finger to trail down the plane of her cheek, along her jaw line. "Aye. An' I wouldn't lie ta ye." He continued, following the lines of her long, graceful neck and stopping at the modest neckline of her simple black dress. "Tá tú álainn sin. Ba mhaith liom ach a dteagmháil leat." He whispered, soft and slow into her ear, sending chills down her spine. "An mbeidh tú in iúl dom tú teagmháil?"
She bit her lower lip, closing her eyes and concentrating on his words, her other senses. She could smell him, clean like soap and metallic, almost like gunpowder. His body was giving off overwhelming heat. Suddenly, his hand was on her cheek and she her judgment became foggy. "Juss tell me no. Tell me no, an' I'll stop."
Her eyelids fluttered open and his lips were practically touching hers. She barely had time to think, breathing out the words, "Don't stop."
His lips attacked hers. He was warm and soft, yet persistent. He nudged her backwards until her back flushed with the pedestal base of the statue. Falling against the concrete, her mouth opened to protest, but Connor's tongue slipped between her lips, mingling with her own and silencing, not only her mouth, but her thoughts as well.
His hand braced against her throat, holding her head back as he kissed along her chin, down her neck, sucking lightly at her pale flesh. She was pliable beneath his hands. When he arrived at the hollow of her throat, he growled at the fabric hindering his journey. He hooked her knees, lifting her easily, half of her weight supported by the concrete behind her.
He reached under her skirt, pressing his palm against her panties before he hooked his thumbs under the seam and pulled them to the side. He moaned, finding her slit wet and wanton. "Bhí a fhios agam go raibh tú é seo." He moaned, gliding his fingers through her cunt. Her eyes rolled back and she cried out when he found her clit, letting his thumb linger there as his forefinger slid into her with easy. "Shh, shh, shhh." He warned, quieting her with a powerful kiss. "Gotta be quiet as a church mouse." He continued fingering her as he wrapped her legs around his waist with the other hand.
She gripped his forearms, holding herself up, rolling her hips onto his hand. "More." She panted. "I need more." Her hands slid up his arms, grazing down his stomach until she reached his jeans. She opened them quickly, urgent with need.
He pulled his hand away from her, removing his hard cock from his jeans. She bit her lip, looking down at him with wide, expectant eyes. "Yer sure ye wan' this?" Her response was to roll her hips, grinding herself shamelessly against his turgid length until he slid through her wetness, teasing her clit even more. She held her eyes closed, tight, relishing in the feeling.
He breathed against her neck, hands beside her cheeks as he let her fall onto him in one fluid motion. She gasped as he filled her, it had been so long. She opened her eyes, finding herself looking ashamedly at the Virgin Mary on Connor's neck. She grabbed his face, turning his neck the other way and forcing their lips together with a new urgency.
His hands grazed over her chest, his palm grazing over the rosary she had tucked under her dress. She shuddered at the faint reminder, pushing the thought to the far corners of her mind. He didn't seem to notice, continuing trailing his hands down her sides. "This fuckin' dress." He growled. They both knew they were pressed for time, disrobing would be out of the question. She wanted to badly for his teeth to be grazing her nipples as he filled her completely. His hands stopped at her legs, holding her up a little higher. He thrust against her, her thighs in a vice grip around his hips. He massaged the meat of her thighs with his hands as he held her against him.
The forbidden nature of the exhibitionism they indulged themselves in proved to be too much for them both. Connor's thumb found her clit, rubbing her most sensitive part in hard circles until she was shaking around him, milking his own orgasm from him as she contracted around his cock with her tight cunt.
One of his hands, the tattooed one, clamped over her mouth, silencing her as two habited women walked past them. Their bodies were covered by the statue, obstructing their view, as they walked beneath a breezeway from one wing of the convent to another.
"Shhh…" Connor chastised, smirking at their current situation. This wasn't the first time he was caught outside with his pants down. It was, however, quite a different setting from which he is used to. He was contemplating how close to condemnation they really were when the women entered a door, leaving them alone in the garden again.
He slowly removed his hand, letting her down gently. She fixed her skirt, smoothed her hair, as he fixed his jeans, tucking his cock away. She brushed her hair over her shoulders and felt her rosary tucked in the collar of her dress. She froze. "This shouldn't have happened." She whispered.
"S'a little late fer that, don' ye think?" He scoffed, more than upset with her brash tone.
"I was caught up in the moment! This can't happen again!" She cried out, trying to keep her voice down.
"The fuck 're ye gonna do? Pray it away? Ye fuckin' begged fer it, fuckin' begged fer m'cock!"
"How dare you!" She screamed. "I think its past time for you to go, Connor. I suggest you forget you ever met me." She stomped off in the direction of her room before he could even think of a reply.
Translations:
Tá tú álainn sin. Ba mhaith liom ach a dteagmháil leat. – You're so beautiful. I just want to touch you.
An mbeidh tú in iúl dom tú teagmháil? – Will you let me touch you?
Bhí a fhios agam go raibh tú é seo. – I knew you wanted this.