“Are you a good Christian, Latoya?”
I nodded, my eyes locked with his, and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Pure?”
Flushing with embarrassment, I answered quickly. “Yes, Reverend DeMark.”
He turned in his maroon leather swivel chair and stood suddenly, coming around his desk to stand beside me. He was so close that I could see the tiny flat mole near his mouth and feel his cool breath against my forehead.
Anxious, I took an automatic step back and looked up at him.
“Are you afraid of me, Latoya?”
“No, sir,” I stammered, hypnotized by his eyes.
Slowly he raised his hands and grasped my face. “You’ve grown to be a very beautiful young lady. Very innocent and…tempting.”
I was a virgin, only pretending to be as cool and hip as my friends so that I would fit in. I didn’t know much about men, or even boys for that matter. Yet, I knew at that moment, as the Reverend continued to stroke me with his eyes, that he wanted to kiss me.
I gasped slightly as my nipples hardened at the very thought of his lips on mine. Remorse and shame quickly filled me.
“Do you believe that He is a forgiving God?” he asked, his voice strained as one hand moved down to my buttocks to press the lower half of my body close to his.
I nodded, completely under his spell.
As his head lowered and his warm lips met mine, he guided my shaking hand to his erection; I could only pray that He was indeed forgiving.
The sound of the doorknob rattling brought me from the past with a jolt. I knew Reverend DeMark had a key, so either it wasn’t him or he wasn’t alone. With a quick look over my shoulder, I dashed into an oversized armoire.
“Reverend DeMark, your words were truly inspirational.”
My eyes widened into mini saucers at the breathy sound of Sister Rebbie Labelle’s voice. Curious, I eased open the door of the armoire just a crack and watched as the voluptuous woman, clad in a lilac suit with matching fur stole, sashayed past the Rev into the office.
“I’m glad that you enjoyed the sermon,” he said, still standing with the door ajar.
Her wide-brimmed hat was tilted to the side and covering part of her face, but nothing could hide the slick smile that spread across her face like butter. “This sure is a nice conversion of the basement into an apartment, but it needs…a woman’s touch.”
I saw his eyes darting around the office, probably wondering where I hid. “I’m quite comfortable the way that it is actually. Uhm, I want to look over my notes before the next sermon, Sister Labelle. Is there anything else?” he asked politely, while pulling the door open wider.
Sister Labelle pouted as she pranced back over to him, lightly swinging the gloves she carried. “If there’s anything I can help you with—and I do mean anything—just call on me, Luke.”
I tensed at her use of his first name.
With one last stroke of her hand against his cheek and a long, meaningful stare into his eyes, Sister Labelle finally took her leave.
I waited until he closed the door and locked it before I left my hiding place. “It’s good to see you have so many willing servants.”
He turned. Slowly he nodded as he removed his elaborate gold-trimmed robe.
“Sister Labelle seemed quite eager to please,” I pressed, unsuccessfully hiding my jealousy.
Preacher or not, Reverend DeMark put it down so good that I just didn’t want to share, okay?
He took the seat behind his desk, steepling his fingers and then resting his chin on the tips. “Don’t make assumptions, Latoya,” he ordered in a steely tone. “Jealousy doesn’t become you. The Song of Solomon states: ‘For love is as strong as death, jealousy as cruel as the grave; its flames are flames of fire. A most vehement flame.’”
I felt properly chastised.
“Come,” he beckoned, his elbows now resting on the open pages of the Bible on his desk.
Eager, but not wanting to show it, I walked slowly to him. His eyes pierced me. I felt he could see through my bones and flesh to my very soul.
“Undress,” was his next command.
I was already hot with want and anticipation as I removed my pristine black dress and cotton undergarments. A draft from some unseen crevice breezed across my nude body, tightening my nipples into chocolate buds.
“Come and kneel at your altar,” he demanded, turning in his chair to expose his erection to me as he kicked his pants away with his feet.
I shivered as I obeyed him, my knees pressing into the plush carpeting as he pulled my head toward him. I knew his wants without him speaking and eagerly took his shaft into my mouth.
He taught me so well.
I enjoyed the hard feel of him against my tongue as he chanted prayers of forgiveness for our sins and weaknesses. “To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, though we have rebelled against Him.”
When he ordered me to take my position so that he could fill me with his heat, I didn’t have thoughts of how wrong it was to let him fuck me. I climbed my ass right up on his desk, exposing my throbbing core to him.
I gasped as if drawing my last breath as he slid his dark inches into me with one deep thrust.
His fingers tightly gripped the cheeks of my ass as he stroked inside me deep and fast. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out in sweet pleasure.
“Therefore let it be known to you, brethren, that through this Man is preached to you the forgiveness of sins,” he whispered harshly, his sweat dripping down onto my quivering buttocks.
He clasped one hand over my mouth as he paused midstroke. His tip throbbed like a pumping heart against my walls. “Don’t move. I don’t want to come,” he gasped.
My heart beat a furious rhythm in my chest. The bud between my legs throbbed with a life of its own. My head dropped to the desk. “God, it’s good,” I whispered, struggling for air.
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice hoarse as he panted, his sweat like a slow drizzle down the back of my thighs.
“God, it’s good,” I repeated, reaching out to grasp the edge of the desk as his stroking continued at a furious and almost punishing pace.
He laughed low and deep in his throat. “Oh, no, sweet angel. God ain’t doing this,” he said.
I gasped as he pushed so deeply into me that the soft hairs around his dick tickled my buttocks.
“Who’s doing it?” he demanded, delivering another deep and powerful thrust.
“You,” I answered, biting my bottom lip.
“Oh, no, you know the drill. Now who?”
“Reverend DeMark.”
Another hard thrust. “Who?”
“Reverend DeMark!”
We both hollered out roughly as we came together.
“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace,” he chanted softly.
Tears flew down my face as I closed my eyes and whispered, “Amen.”
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