Emma slid into the back pew, bowing her head. She wasn't highly religious, and rarely ever attended church services. But, whenever something was bringing her down, such as was the case this time, she would slip into the abandoned church for a little quiet and introspection. She'd just left her fiancee, two weeks before the wedding. But it was his fault, she reminded herself, bringing her hand up to the bruise on her cheek.
A noise behind her pulled her from her thoughts, startling her. She turned her head slightly.
"Pastor Mark, I...I'm sorry. I di...didn't know you'd b...be here." Emma turned to grab her purse from the pew, getting ready to rise. Strong hands fell to her shoulders, stopping her.
"Everything ok?"
Emma heard the genuine concern in his voice and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, everything is ok." She glanced back at him and forced a smile onto her lips.
Mark's finger hooked under her chin just as she was about to look away, bringing her gaze back to him. Moving his hand, he brushed his fingers over the bruised cheek. "This is what you consider ok?"
Tears quickly filled her eyes and she turned her head away from him, grabbing her purse again. "I have to go."
"Please, stay," his hands once again were upon her shoulders, this time massaging softly.
"I..."
"You don't have to explain what happen, or say anything," he assured her. She thought about this for a moment, but the feel of his hands working away her tension, and the peacefulness of the church, made the decision an easy one. Her shoulders relaxed beneath his fingers and she gave a small nod.
His massage grew harder, though still gentle, his strong fingers working the knots from her shoulders and neck, moving down to her upper back. Emma let out a small moan, leaning back into his touch. Had his touch changed? She couldn't help but ask herself this as she felt a tinge of desire shoot through her. But, the way his fingers were caressing over her, she was fairly certain he was feeling the same way. She leaned back more when his touch moved again to her shoulders and let her head lean against his chest.
Mark glided his hands to her upper chest, lightly working on the muscles there. He glanced down at her; she shifted, tilting her head to gaze up at him. He allowed his hands to slide down even further, the tips of his fingers brushing over her nipples, feeling them harden through the light silk fabric. A groan escaped him as he leaned down, claiming her lips with his own.
His kiss was slow and undemanding, his tongue slowly tasting and teasing her lips until they parted; his fingers grazing over her hard nipples again and again. Emma moaned again, this time more needy as she pressed her chest against his touch. He slid one hand to the back of her head, deepening their kiss, his lips and tongue becoming more demanding as his other hand pinched one of her nipples through the shirt. She groaned into his kiss, squirming in the pew.
Mark pulled away from her for a moment and Emma whimpered. He took her hand in his, urging her to stand and move to where he was standing.
"Come here," his voice was a raspy whisper. She answered with a nod, and by following his command. Once she reached the back of the pew, he kissed her hard and without mercy, hurriedly unbuttoning her silk blouse and sliding his hands under the fabric to caress her soft skin. As he moved his lips away from her, she gazed up into his eyes, her lower lip trembling. Watching him, she moved her fingers beneath his shirt, dancing them over his chest, pressing herself close to him.
