The way he's looking at her is downright wicked. They still have a lot of work to do to get everything ready for the youth event, but she's fairly certain none of that is going to happen now - and she warred with herself to try and fight it.
As he slides to the edge of his chair and leans in toward her she swears the air around them sparks with electricity the closer he gets to her.
"Pick one," he's practically whispering and his voice is rough and low - almost desperate.
"We shouldn't…" she starts. After all of their attempts to be realistic about this, to be honest about how futile and hopeless it is to start something, why do this to themselves? But she's fighting a losing battle, and deep down she knows it.
"No, we shouldn't. It's wrong, and it's sinful" the way the words roll from his talented tongue has her squirming in her seat - a rush of arousal settling low in her belly despite her attempts to fight it.
"And yet…" he continues, dragging his fingers slowly along the curve of her arm, "you're the one who gave me that bloody list. So pick one."
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his strong words (well, that was unexpected), but then again - he was surprising her a lot lately - and she found her eyes darting down to his lips for just a moment before leaning in and kissing him fiercely.
His good hand quickly found it's way up to the back of her neck as he drowned in the feeling of her tongue tangling with his. She tasted like cinnamon and vanilla - and he never wanted to taste anything else.
She tilted her head slightly to the side to grant him better access and he sighed into her, slowing their pace and pouring every ounce of passion and tenderness he could into their kiss.
He felt incredible - her hands slid across his muscular shoulders, down his back, around to his chest - everywhere. She wanted to feel more of him - she needed to feel more of him. She pressed her palms flat against his chest and pushed lightly to break their kiss.
She wasn't prepared for the utterly wrecked look in his eyes, a daze of passion, lust and wonderment.
"I've made up my mind," she said with a tone of finality, setting her shoulders squarely as she stood.
His stomach dropped. This is the part where she says she's changed her mind, you bloody fool.
"The confessional - again," she turns toward the door and tosses a seductive smile over her shoulder at him while he stares blankly - dumbfounded.
"Coming, Father?" She smirks at the use of his title again - and though he knows it's part of the game, he can't wait to make her scream his real name over and over.
He's grateful that in the fog of his arousal he still remembers to double check that all the doors are locked before heading over to the confessional. He wasn't entirely sure if she meant that she wanted a repeat performance of the dirty talking they'd already done, or if she was feeling a little more hands on, but he hoped it was the latter.
His question was answered when he turned the corner to find her on his side of the booth - clothes discarded in a disheveled heap by the door.
His jaw went slack at the sight. She was either an angel sent to make him see God or a demon sent kill him with sex - and to be honest, he didn't care which one.
She noticed the moment he saw her, he stopped dead in his tracks - the only movement was his eyes roving her deliciously naked form and the twitch in the tent of his pants as his body reacted to her.
She curled her finger in a come-hither motion and he practically felt her physically pulling him closer - though she wasn't touching him.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," she whispered in his ear when she was close enough. "And I plan to sin some more."
He was too far gone to respond as she turned him in the booth and pushed on his shoulders to sit him on the wooden bench, standing between his legs.
"Looks like you're overdressed," she teases breathlessly while tugging at his belt buckle. He tilts his hips into her hands, making her task easier.
With his pants undone she slides her hand down into his tight black briefs (he wore boxers before, didn't he? Whatever, these are hot), and he bites back a moan when she strokes his velvety length.
He unconsciously starts rolling his hips to meet her, and she takes advantage of the motion to pull his pants completely free. When she looks back up he's removed his collar and she sees him using his good hand to unbutton his shirt.
Her immediate reaction is to help him (it can't be easy one-handed), but she quickly sees that he's clearly grown accustomed to doing this on his own as he deftly removes the final piece of clothing separating them.
But there's still the prosthetic. Last time she was… well, distracted enough not to notice.
He caught her eye drifting to his hand and his heart sank. He'd never before wished so badly to be whole again.
"Should I… uhm. Would you like me to leave it on?" He said shyly, eyes intentionally diverted.
"It's more comfortable with it off, isn't it?" She touched the side of his face reassuringly - but didn't try to pull his chin up to look at her - she knew that would be too much for him right now.
"Aye. That it is, but I understand if-"
She cut him off with a kiss and settled herself on his lap as a way of telling him it was OK. He finally looked up at her and didn't break eye contact while he removed the prosthetic. Finally feeling truly bare to her - and surprisingly comfortable with it.
A verse flashed to his mind. Genesis 2:25: Now the man and his wife were both naked, but they felt no shame.
The thought was chased away by the feeling of her hips moving rhythmically on his lap - her arms around his neck and her head tilted back, the elegant column of her throat in perfect view.
God, but she was a vision - all grace and seduction. He pressed kisses everywhere he could, the soft skin of her breasts, the taught peaks of her nipples, her collarbone, neck.
He couldn't stand it anymore, he wanted to feel just how turned on she was. He palmed her breast roughly, eliciting a mewl of pleasure before dipping his hand down to her core.
"God, so wet for me," he breathed. "I love feeling what I do to you. Can't believe this is for me."
He continued to rub his thumb along her folds as she bucked her hips lightly in search of more pressure. She caught his chuckle at her insistence just before he slowly delved a long finger into her.
"Oh, God - yes!" She cried out at the sensation as he brought his thumb to her sensitive bundle of nerves, but it wasn't quite what she wanted. She leaned back a little to look him in the eye.
"I want you," she pleaded - and he nearly lost it right there. This incredible woman was begging for him - and it made him feel amazing in all the right ways.
"As much as I'd love to, I… uhm," he bashfully scratched behind his ear - a nervous tick she'd grown quite fond of.
"Out with it, Jones."
"Protection? I'm a Catholic priest, love - this isn't exactly something I'm prepared for," he was kneading her lower back with his good hand now, the motion easing the tension in muscles she didn't know were tight.
"Don't worry about it - I've got that covered," she said matter of factly.
She slid her fingers down to his member and pumped it a few times while he cursed under his breath.
"Now where were we?" she mused. "Right about…" she picked herself up enough to put her hand between them and line him up. "Here."
He shuddered at the feeling of her perched there, his bare tip nudging at her soaked entrance, staying deadly still as she slowly dropped herself onto him - her walls dragging along his cock in the most incredible way.
She only stopped when he was buried in her to the hilt. She knew he was big - she'd had him in her mouth after all, but this was different. She felt every inch of him, and it only took a moment to adjust to his size.
He was mesmerized by her, so wet and warm around him. He'd never been with a woman without a latex barrier between them - and this was so different. He could feel everything. And he desperately wanted to feel more.
"Oh, Killian, more" she pleaded.
That was all the encouragement he needed, and as he thrust his hips upward he relished the way her jaw dropped in ecstasy.
He set a quick pace - knowing the feeling of her wrapped tightly around him, breasts bouncing every time he pounded into her, was going to send him over the edge much more quickly than he'd like.
But he was nothing if not persistent, and he worked diligently to find the spot within her that would make her see the same stars he saw every time he looked at her.
With a tilt of his hips and his hand gripping her hip to pull her into him even tighter she cried out, and he knew he'd found it.
"Killian! Oh, God, Killian!"
He grinned wolfishly at the ragged way she said his name - continuing to drive relentlessly into her as she climbed higher and higher.
"That's it, love," he panted, eager to watch her crash over the golden edge. Eager for it to be the feeling of him inside her that brings he the utmost pleasure.
"Let go for me," he crooned as she circled her hips on him, breath catching as she rode him harder - her mouth falling into a silent cry as her bliss finally crashed over her in heady waves, powerful bursts one after the other.
"Fuck, Emma" his movements were uncontrolled now, wanting nothing more than to stay in the this moment forever.
But the friction on his cock as she tensed around him was too much.
"God, Emma - I'm gonna- oh, God!"
He choked out her name as he drove into her wildly, hips stuttering as he pulsed his release deeply within her.
She kept her eyes trained on him - watching every exquisite moment of his euphoria. She'd never seen anything so enthralling, so alluring. That's when she knew, this was going to be different. She wanted this (them) to be different.
"Hey." He all but purred. "You OK?"
"Yeah. For the first time in a long time, I think I am."