Part 02

Breaking away from his lips, “You feel it too, don’t you?” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “This need... this hunger that neither of us can deny.”

Harsha swallowed hard, his mind racing. He tried to focus on the cool wood of the chair beneath him, the faint scent of incense in the air, anything to ground himself—but it was no use. Her words coiled around him like a serpent, pulling him deeper into the abyss of desire he’d been trying so desperately to escape.

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “This... it’s wrong. It’s—”

“—delicious,” she finished for him, her lips curving into a sly smile. She knelt before him, her habit pooling around her knees as she gazed up at him with those dark, alluring eyes. “Tell me, Harsha... what is it about sin that makes it taste so sweet?”

He couldn’t answer. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the guilt and longing warring within him. But as her hands slid up his thighs, he felt the last shreds of his resistance crumble.

“Malsha...” he breathed, his voice barely audible.

“Shh,” she soothed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Let go of your guilt, if only for a moment. Let yourself feel. You deserve this.”

Her touch was electric, igniting a fire that spread through his veins like wildfire. Before he could protest further, she had unfastened his belt, her movements deliberate and unhurried. The sound of the buckle clinking against the floor sent a jolt through him, and he flinched, but she held him firmly in place.

“Relax,” she purred, her hands sliding beneath the waistband of his trousers. “You’ve carried this burden long enough. Let me help you unburden yourself.”

Harsha’s breath hitched as her fingers found their mark, teasing and stroking with an expertise that left him gasping. His head fell back against the chair, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly as waves of pleasure washed over him.

“Do you see now?” she asked, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “There’s no shame in wanting. No sin in feeling.”

“But... my vows...” he managed to choke out, though the words felt hollow even as they left his lips.

“Your vows are chains,” she said fiercely, her grip tightening. “And I am here to set you free.”

With that, she leaned forward, her lips closing around him in a way that made his entire body shudder. His hips bucked instinctively, and she let out a muffled laugh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him.

“Careful,” she teased, pulling away just long enough to speak. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

The thought of being caught sent a thrill of fear mingled with excitement coursing through him, but before he could respond, she resumed her ministrations, leaving him utterly helpless.

When she finally released him, he was trembling, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. She climbed into his lap, her skirts hiked up around her waist, and pressed herself against him.

“Now,” she said, her voice a husky whisper, “it’s your turn to make me feel good.”

Harsha’s hands shook as he reached for her, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. She watched him with amusement, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Not very experienced, are you?” she teased, arching an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you’re just nervous.”

He flushed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, but she merely laughed and took his hand, guiding it to where she wanted it most.

“Here,” she instructed, placing his palm against her stomach. “Don’t be afraid to touch me. I won’t break.”

Encouraged by her boldness, he let his hands explore, tracing the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breast. She sighed softly, her eyelids fluttering shut as she leaned into his touch.

“That’s it,” she murmured. “Just like that.”

Her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingers, and he marveled at the contrast between her pristine exterior and the fiery passion that burned within her. He’d always seen her as untouchable, a symbol of purity and devotion, but now... now she was something else entirely.

“Malsha,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a look so intense it made his breath catch.

“Yes?” she replied, her tone playful yet laced with something darker, more primal.

“I don’t think I can stop,” he admitted, his voice trembling.

“Good,” she said, a wicked smile spreading across her lips. “Because I don’t want you to.”

With that, she shifted her hips, positioning herself above him, and slowly lowered herself down, taking his cock inside her with a moan of pure bliss. Harsha’s hands flew to her waist, gripping her tightly as he fought to maintain control.

“Oh God,” he gasped, his head falling back.

“No,” she corrected, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss. “Not God. Just me.”

The sound of their bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of desire and desperation. She rode him with abandon, her nails digging into his shoulders as she urged him on.

“Faster,” she demanded, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “Don’t hold back. Give me everything.”

Harsha obeyed, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her harder, deeper. The world narrowed to the two of them, their shared rhythm, the heat building between them until it threatened to consume them both.

“Malsha,” he groaned, his voice breaking.

“Let go,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “Let go and give in to me.”

With a cry of surrender, he did, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. She followed moments later, her body convulsing with pleasure as she clung to him, her cries muffled against his shoulder.

For a long while, they stayed like that, their hearts pounding in unison, their breaths mingling as they came down from the heights of ecstasy. Finally, Malsha pulled away, smoothing her skirts and adjusting her blouse with practiced ease.

“Well,” she said, her tone light and casual, as if they’d just shared a cup of tea rather than something far more intimate. “I suppose we should clean up before Father Patrick returns.”

Harsha stared at her, still reeling from what had just transpired. “Malsha... What happens now?”

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

“That,” she said, leaning in to kiss him one last time, “is entirely up to you.”

The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just happened, the air thick with the scent of their shared sin. Harsha’s heart raced as he watched Malsha rise from the desk, her habit still slightly disheveled, her calm demeanor almost infuriating in its ease. She adjusted her veil, smoothing it over her hair as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.

“You’re... you’re just going to act like nothing happened?” Harsha stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and lingering arousal. His hands shook as he buttoned his shirt, fumbling with the fabric that clung to his damp skin.

Malsha turned to him, her dark eyes piercing through the dim light of the office. “Oh Harsha,” she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of amusement, “we both know this wasn’t nothing. But it doesn’t have to be everything either. I told you—this is your choice. What happens next is... entirely up to you.”

Harsha ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull himself back to reality. “Choice? What kind of choice is this? My wife... my vows... God...” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, her presence overwhelming. “Do you think God doesn’t see the desires of your heart?” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “Do you think He doesn’t know what you want? What you need?”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the heat rising within him again. “This is wrong,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “We can’t...”

“Can’t we?” Malsha interrupted, her voice low and sultry. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against his jawline, sending sparks of electricity through his body. “Tell me, Harsha... when was the last time you felt this alive? Truly, deeply alive?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Because deep down, he knew she was right. The guilt, the fear, the shame—they all paled in comparison to the fire she lit inside him. And yet, the thought of betraying his wife, his faith, gnawed at the edges of his conscience.

Malsha seemed to sense his turmoil. She stepped back, her expression softening. “I understand,” she said quietly. “This isn’t easy for you. But remember, Harsha... sometimes, the most unsacred things are found in the sacred places.”

Her words lingered in the air, a paradox that made his head spin. Before he could respond, she moved toward the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. “Think about it,” she said over her shoulder, her voice steady but laced with promise. “And when you’re ready... you know where to find me.”

With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Harsha alone with his thoughts—and his lingering desire.

To be Continued.