The Drazen World: LUST (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read Online Free
Author: Lola Darling
forget he didn't know her himself. All around me, people are tearing up, clutching handkerchiefs. But for once, I don't need to fight the urge to let tears spill. For once I feel, if not okay, then at least the hint of the idea that one day I might be okay again.
Then it's time for communion.
Technically, I shouldn't go, since it's been God only knows how long since my last confession. But then I watch him break the bread over the altar, his full, luscious lips rounding as he speaks. "Take this bread and eat it, for it is my body, which has been given up for you." I swear in that moment, his eyes find mine across the nave of the church, steady and sure. The world around us narrows, and it seems like he's speaking directly to me.
Take this and eat it. Oh, Father, you know I will take anything you want to give me.
So when our pew rises, and he steps down from the altar to stand at the head of the church, I stand too, trailing after the others in our pew. One at a time, the handful of people before me bow their heads, lift their hands to receive the communion wafer.
But there are two ways to receive the wafer.
When it's my turn, I lift my head to meet those sea green eyes head-on, and he lifts the wafer too, saying the blessing, though my blood is thrumming so hard in my ears at being this close to him, that I almost can't hear him.
"Amen," I whisper, and he keeps the wafer aloft, ignoring my outstretched hands, folded one across the other. For a split second, I don't understand. Then his lips part, ever so slightly, and I realize he's giving me a silent command.
I lean forward, our faces a breath apart, and open my mouth. He places the wafer directly on my tongue, and a burst of heat floods my body, centered right on my crotch. But I can't move. I'm frozen in place, the world seemingly gone still around us, as he slowly, slowly withdraws his finger from my mouth, trailing it along the tip of my tongue, catching my lip and letting the tip of his finger brush the inside of my lip faintly, his fingernail tapping against my gum for an instant. The communion wafer has hardly any taste itself, so my entire mouth is flooded with his flavor. Salty, spicy, reminiscent of that woody scent he wears, which I can catch faintly even from here, even amidst the incense and myrrh flooding the church.
Then his hand drops, and he lifts his eyes away from mine, easily, as though he's unaffected, as though it's so simple for him to move on after that.
But I can tell, from one glance at his thick vestments, that he's not completely unaffected. Though, at least in these loose flowing robes, he's a lot less obvious than he was when he was wearing tight black pants.
My pew is only a few feet away, but I can already tell it's going to be a long, painful walk back. My cock swells in my suit pants, straining at the seams, heavy as a lead weight between my legs. My head swims a little, as though all of the blood in my body has abandoned it, headed south for hotter climates.
I skip the wine. I want to taste him on my tongue for as long as the flavor will last.
I retake my seat cross-legged, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Can anyone else see? What will they think? It's my sister's funeral service, after all. What the hell is wrong with me?
And yet, despite the fact that I should care about those things, I can't bring myself to. This is the first time since I woke up to that awful sound of my phone buzzing, the police at the other end, ready to shatter my world, that I've felt anything resembling a hint of peace. If this is what it takes to be okay again, to eventually move on from this, then I'll take it.
Monica rests a hand on my arm as she slides back into the pew beside me. "He's hot as hell." She bobs her head toward the front of the church, grinning mischievously. "I think Gabby would appreciate that, don't you?" Her eyes sparkle, as if she knows, though of course, she couldn't possibly.
But that's Monica for you. More than my ex, more
Then it's time for communion.
Technically, I shouldn't go, since it's been God only knows how long since my last confession. But then I watch him break the bread over the altar, his full, luscious lips rounding as he speaks. "Take this bread and eat it, for it is my body, which has been given up for you." I swear in that moment, his eyes find mine across the nave of the church, steady and sure. The world around us narrows, and it seems like he's speaking directly to me.
Take this and eat it. Oh, Father, you know I will take anything you want to give me.
So when our pew rises, and he steps down from the altar to stand at the head of the church, I stand too, trailing after the others in our pew. One at a time, the handful of people before me bow their heads, lift their hands to receive the communion wafer.
But there are two ways to receive the wafer.
When it's my turn, I lift my head to meet those sea green eyes head-on, and he lifts the wafer too, saying the blessing, though my blood is thrumming so hard in my ears at being this close to him, that I almost can't hear him.
"Amen," I whisper, and he keeps the wafer aloft, ignoring my outstretched hands, folded one across the other. For a split second, I don't understand. Then his lips part, ever so slightly, and I realize he's giving me a silent command.
I lean forward, our faces a breath apart, and open my mouth. He places the wafer directly on my tongue, and a burst of heat floods my body, centered right on my crotch. But I can't move. I'm frozen in place, the world seemingly gone still around us, as he slowly, slowly withdraws his finger from my mouth, trailing it along the tip of my tongue, catching my lip and letting the tip of his finger brush the inside of my lip faintly, his fingernail tapping against my gum for an instant. The communion wafer has hardly any taste itself, so my entire mouth is flooded with his flavor. Salty, spicy, reminiscent of that woody scent he wears, which I can catch faintly even from here, even amidst the incense and myrrh flooding the church.
Then his hand drops, and he lifts his eyes away from mine, easily, as though he's unaffected, as though it's so simple for him to move on after that.
But I can tell, from one glance at his thick vestments, that he's not completely unaffected. Though, at least in these loose flowing robes, he's a lot less obvious than he was when he was wearing tight black pants.
My pew is only a few feet away, but I can already tell it's going to be a long, painful walk back. My cock swells in my suit pants, straining at the seams, heavy as a lead weight between my legs. My head swims a little, as though all of the blood in my body has abandoned it, headed south for hotter climates.
I skip the wine. I want to taste him on my tongue for as long as the flavor will last.
I retake my seat cross-legged, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Can anyone else see? What will they think? It's my sister's funeral service, after all. What the hell is wrong with me?
And yet, despite the fact that I should care about those things, I can't bring myself to. This is the first time since I woke up to that awful sound of my phone buzzing, the police at the other end, ready to shatter my world, that I've felt anything resembling a hint of peace. If this is what it takes to be okay again, to eventually move on from this, then I'll take it.
Monica rests a hand on my arm as she slides back into the pew beside me. "He's hot as hell." She bobs her head toward the front of the church, grinning mischievously. "I think Gabby would appreciate that, don't you?" Her eyes sparkle, as if she knows, though of course, she couldn't possibly.
But that's Monica for you. More than my ex, more
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