The cathedral's hush lingered long after prayers had ended, the last tendrils of incense curling through the empty air as Aria slipped into her small cell. She lit a candle, its flame swaying softly, painting amber shadows on bare walls. Every part of her felt weighted with the memory of Father Leo—his voice, his gaze, the impossibly precise way he inhabited her thoughts. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs; she lay back, surrendering to rest with the hope that, for one night, she might escape him.
But escape was impossible.
Sleep overtook her slowly, a velvet fog closing in, blurring boundaries until reality dissolved and dream took hold. Aria's body shifted beneath the thin linen sheets, tangled with the heat of anxiety and longing as the cathedral faded and the world rebuilt itself around her. In this twilight realm, nothing mattered but the pull of desire and the shape of the man she tried so desperately to forget.
He appeared by candlelight, his silhouette elegant and dangerous at the foot of her bed, casting shadows that danced in the flickering glow. Father Leo—unmistakable, beautiful, intimidating—stood with his hands folded before him, those dark blue eyes finding hers in the half-light. Every detail seemed heightened, every breath weighed down with anticipation.
"Little dove…" his voice rasped, thick with promise, "do you belong to the night, or only to me?"
Her pulse stuttered. It was a question she could not answer, not with words—her body answered for her, a flush rising beneath her skin, a tremor in her fingers as she reached to steady herself. The sheets rustled as she sat half-upright, heart thudding so loud she wondered if he could hear it.
Leo moved toward her, slow and deliberate, the space between them taut with unspoken tension. He knelt beside the bed, lifting a hand to brush a stray lock from her damp forehead. His fingers were cool—a balm to her burning skin—and lingered as they traced down along her cheekbone.
"You feel it, don't you?" he whispered, voice flowing over her like silk. "The way your heart races when I am near… when I am close?"
"I—yes," she whimpered, breathless, chest tight with the weight of desire and the aching guilt that followed it.
Leo's smile was gentle, but edged with something darker. He leaned in, breath mingling with hers, eyes searching her face until her resolve crumbled entirely. His lips met hers—soft, unhurried, but certain, like a prayer recited at midnight, too sacred for daylight. Then their mouths meet , tongues interwind exchanging saliva.The kiss deepened, hunger curling beneath reverence, every movement a study in possession.
His hand threaded into her hair, cradling the curve of her head as he kissed her, guiding her mouth with silent insistence. Aria found herself yielding beneath him, lips parting, breath fusing with his as she tasted every secret he had kept hidden from the world. Her fingers fluttered over his chest, seeking the heat and rhythm of his pulse beneath starched fabric, tracing the delicate point where his collarbone met his throat.
Leo's lips traveled slowly: across her cheek, down to her jaw, then lower, pressing gentle kisses along her neck, each contact igniting a spark that raced down her spine. She moaned, the sound small and trembling, but he caught it with his mouth, rewarding her surrender with another lengthening kiss.
His body surrounded hers—strong, unyielding—yet every touch remained artful, reverent. He let his fingers drift down her arms, memorizing the shape of her shoulders, the quickened flutter of her heartbeat at her wrist. Pausing to look at her, his eyes softened, and for a moment—not priest nor guardian, but merely a man guided by longing—he traced the delicate outline of her lower lip with his thumb.
"There is nothing sinful in feeling," he coaxed, voice low and electric, "nothing wrong in surrendering to the truth of your desire. Let me show you… let me claim you, little dove."
His words broke something open in her. Aria's breath shuddered, her resistance melting in the hush that surrounded them. Leo moved closer, lips and hands intent, trailing brushes of heat across her collarbone. She shivered as his mouth pressed soft, lingering kisses along her bare throat, his hands sliding over the curve of her shoulders to find the hem of her nightdress.
Slowly, reverently, he bunched the fabric and slipped it upward, exposing her legs and the vulnerable skin of her thighs. His palm explored the tender hollow above her knee, caressing as though memorizing every dip and ridge. Aria gasped, swallowed by the pulse of anticipation, trembling beneath every stroke and every pause. Her hands clung to his arms as he leaned into her, the breadth of his chest blocking the outside world from view.
His lips followed the line from her jaw to the hollow between her breasts, each kiss weighted with a promise—a vow more binding than any sacred ritual. She arched toward him, desperate to feel and be felt, her body fevered with want. Leo's eyes glimmered, scanning for permission, finding only surrender. He smiled, almost tender, trailing one slow hand up her thigh beneath the tangle of her sheets.
Bold as sin, his fingers grazed the edge of her panties, the touch feather-light but searing. Aria whimpered, unconsciously raising her hips, seeking the friction she was too ashamed to ask for. He obliged, pressingly gently at first, then with deliberate intent, stroking her through the thin barrier of lace. Her body responded instantly, hips twisting, thighs parting as heat pooled at her core and flooded outward, overwhelming the guilt that tried to rise.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered.
"I… I want.....—" She struggled with the words, shame twisted around longing, but her body told the truth.
"I want you....'
Leo bunched her panties aside, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You are mine, tonight," he promised. "Let me show you that there is no sin in pleasure."
His hand moved with growing confidence, fingers tracing a line up her inner thigh before slipping between her folds, exploring sensitive skin and tender heat. Aria's breath faltered, her body arching toward him, every muscle trembling. He stroked her gently, then more firmly, watching her face for every flicker of emotion—pleasure, disbelief, fear warring with bliss. She gasped, closing her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his attention.
Leo's mouth returned to hers, swallowing her moans, feeding her desire until she was lost to everything but sensation. His thumb circled expertly, coaxing pleasure from nerves she'd never known could burn so hot. Her legs wrapped around his waist, needing him close, needing to feel every inch of him.
He pressed himself against her, the full weight of his body finally settling atop her, warmth and yielding muscle pinning her safely between mattress and man. Their breaths tangled, mingling in the close space as hands explored, skin met skin, heat built until it was unbearable. Leo guided her, teaching her the shape of shared pleasure, his mouth on her breast, kissing her nipples, nipping, soothing them until she cried out, soft and broken and desperate.
Her hands fumbled for his robes, sliding beneath, tracing the shape of his hip, the curve of his back, the hard lines of his thighs. His body trembled with restraint, but the hunger in his eyes made her fearless. She reached between them, feeling him hard against her leg, pressing upward for more contact, more heat.
"Let me in," he murmured, voice hoarse now, eyes searching hers for any hint of reluctance. Aria only nodded, trusting him with everything she had left. He slid her panties the rest of the way down, discarding them with gentle fingers before returning to her, positioning himself between her legs.
He entered her slowly, pausing at the threshold before sliding in, the movement agonizingly tender her flower bud open flushing pink. Aria gasped, clutching his shoulders, tears pricking her eyes—not of pain, but from the shock of invasion, of being so completely claimed. Leo's lips gentled her, speaking comfort with every kiss, every caress as their bodies joined. The world shrank to nothing but the sound of skin meeting skin, of breath growing ragged, of whispered words heavy with longing.
They moved together, rocking softly at first before the rhythm built, pleasure cresting with each thrust, each cry, each desperate clutch of limbs. Leo's hands roved her body, memorizing it—her face, her breasts, her hips, her thighs—as if worshipping every flaw and every beauty. Aria surrendered, melting beneath him, her body rising to meet his again and again.
She lost track of time, lost herself in raw sensation and pure need. The night spun out without mercy as pleasure built and broke over her in wave after wave, his voice a reverent guide to every new peak. When she finally shattered against him, calling his name, Leo held her tight—his body shaking as he joined her, completing the act with a low, fervent moan.
They lay tangled together, sweat cooling, hearts racing, silence thick with the aftermath of forbidden ecstasy. Leo's fingers brushed her cheek, his eyes gentle but his mouth solemn. He gathered her to his chest, holding her as she trembled, as tears threatened to rise.
"You are not ruined," he murmured, stroking her hair. "You have only learned how to feel."
Aria curled closer, overcome by the truth of his words, by the aching emptiness she knew would follow as the dream faded. She clung to him, wishing the dawn would not come, wishing that what they shared could remain untouched.
But then, as morning crept past the cathedral's stained glass, the world began to shift. The dream retreated, unraveling thread by thread—his touch, his voice, the heat between their bodies—all slipping away beyond her grasp.
She awoke with a sharp gasp, heart racing, body slick with sweat and need. Her sheets twisted beneath her, tangling around her legs, stickiness marking her longing. Aria pressed trembling hands to her face, burning with shame as memory returned—every touch, every cry, every whispered plea falling away into cruel reality. She looked down, saw the wet stain at her center, and a fresh flush swept over her face.
The guilt came flooding back in a torrent, mingled with the bittersweet ache of lingering desire. Each breath was painful, each movement a reminder that what she had felt was both completely real and entirely imagined—a sin and a salvation, twisted together.
"I am a nun… I should not…" she whispered, words lost in the silence, but her body betrayed her with every trembling sigh, every memory refusing to leave. She buried her face in her pillow, biting her lip to muffle the sounds her body still wanted to make, lost in the longing for the impossible touch she would never know outside the confines of her own mind.
And yet, as the candle burned low, a small, secret thrill sparkled in her chest—a want that refused to be washed away by prayer, a hope that could not be exiled by shame. In that private darkness, Aria whispered his name, letting the forbidden reverie become her only comfort, knowing she was changed, branded by the fire of yearning she could never confess.
To be continued.....