Part 04

The door creaked open further, and Harsha’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure it would give him away. He froze, his body pressed against the edge of Father Patrick’s desk, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible. Sister Malsha stood framed in the doorway, her posture calm and composed, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

“Brother Thomas,” she said, her voice smooth and unshaken. “What brings you here?”

Harsha couldn’t see the man from where he was crouched, but he could hear the deep, gruff tone of Brother Thomas’s voice. “Sister, I thought I heard… voices. Is everything all right?”

Malsha tilted her head slightly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. ”Everything is fine, Brother Thomas. I was just tidying up Father Patrick’s office before tomorrow’s sermon. You know how meticulous he is.”

There was a pause, and Harsha held his breath. His palms were slick with sweat, and every second felt like an eternity. Meanwhile Harsha tried to dress his cloths back due to his nervoursness.

“Of course,” Brother Thomas finally replied, though his tone still carried a hint of suspicion. “Well, don’t stay too late. The Lord’s work never ends, but neither should our rest.”

”I won’t,” Malsha assured him, her voice softening. ”Thank you for your concern, Brother. God bless you.”

The door clicked shut, and Harsha exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging with relief. He stayed perfectly still, waiting for Malsha’s signal. She turned around slowly, her eyes locking onto his. Her expression was unreadable—calm yet commanding. She didn’t say a word, but the way she looked at him sent a shiver down his spine.

”You can come out now,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harsha hesitated, his mind swirling with guilt and panic. “Do you think he suspected anything?”

Malsha raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. ”Does it matter?” she asked, stepping closer to him. ”Even if he did, what could he prove? You’re safe with me, Harsha. Always.”

Her words should have comforted him, but they only deepened the knot of tension in his chest. He stood up awkwardly, adjusting his clothes, his face flushed with shame. “This… this isn’t right, Malsha. We shouldn’t—”

She cut him off with a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. ”Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t feel alive? Shouldn’t embrace what we both desire?” She took another step forward, closing the distance between them until he could feel the heat of her body radiating toward him. ”Or are you going to tell me that you don’t want this? That you don’t want me?”

Harsha swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn’t lie to her, not when her gaze pinned him down like that. “I… I do,” he admitted softly, his voice trembling. “But—”

”No buts,” she interrupted, her tone firm but laced with something darker, more seductive. ”As I tokd you before you belong to me, Harsha. Not to your wife. Not to the church. To me and only me. And I won’t let you forget that.”

Before he could protest, she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her. Her other hand slid around his waist, fingers digging into his side possessively. The her hand reached down through his pants where tmshe found his dick and balls and started squeesing gently. His breath hitched as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear.

”You’re mine and " This" is all mine,” she whispered, her voice dripping with authority. ”SAY IT.”

He tried to resist, tried to cling to some shred of decency, but her presence overwhelmed him. Her scent, her touch, her words—they shattered his resolve piece by piece. “I’m… yours,” he choked out, his voice barely audible.

Malsha smiled, a triumphant glint in her eyes. ”Good boy,” she murmured, tilting his chin up with her fingers. ”Now show me how much you mean it.”

Their lips met, and any remaining thoughts of guilt or hesitation vanished in an instant. The kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with a fire that consumed them both. Malsha pushed him back against the desk, her hands roaming over his body as if she owned every inch of him. And maybe she did—he certainly wasn’t fighting her anymore.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She ran her hands over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a possessive gleam in her eyes. ”So perfect,” she breathed, her voice husky with desire. ”Every part of you belongs to me.”

Harsha’s hands found her hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled her closer. He wanted to protest, to push her away, but his body betrayed him at every turn. His heart raced, his skin burned where she touched him, and a low groan escaped his lips as she leaned in to nibble at his neck.

”Tell me again,” she demanded, her teeth grazing his collarbone. ”Who do you belong to?”

“You,” he gasped, his head spinning. “Only you.”

Malsha smiled against his skin, her hands moving lower to unbuckle his belt. ”Good answer,” she purred, her voice sending a thrill through him. ”Now let me remind you why that is.”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, her eyes locked on his as she tugged his pants down around his ankles. Harsha’s breath caught, his pulse quickening as her lips closed around his cock. His hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with pleasure and shame.

”Oh God…” he moaned, his head falling back. “This… this is wrong…”

Malsha paused, looking up at him with a wicked grin. ”Then why does it feel so good?” she teased before taking him deeper inside her mouth, her tongue exploring every inch of him.

Harsha had no answer. All he could do was grip the edge of the desk and let her take control, his mind and body surrendering completely to her will. The room seemed to spin around him, the boundaries between sin and ecstasy blurring until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

When she finally pulled away, his legs were shaking, and his thoughts were a chaotic mess. She stood up, her dress slipping off her shoulders as she climbed onto the desk, straddling him. Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to look into her eyes.

”Look at me,” she commanded, her voice low and intense. ”Don’t you dare look away. I want you to remember this moment. Remember who you belong to.”

Harsha nodded, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Y-you… I’m yours.”

Malsha smiled, satisfied, before leaning down to capture his lips in another searing kiss. Her hands moved to guide him inside her, and his world dissolved into sensation—heat, pressure, a dizzying rush of pleasure that drowned out everything else.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly outside the door, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the fire between them, burning brighter than any sense of morality or restraint.

”Don’t stop,” Malsha whispered against his lips, her nails digging into his shoulders. ”Give yourself to me completely, Harsha. Forget everything else.”

And he did. For those stolen moments, once again he forgot his wife, his vows, the world outside that door. There was only Malsha, her body, her voice and her command.

As their bodies tangled together in the dim light of the confessional, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them and the forbidden passion that bound them together.

The End.