Passion or Prayer

A necklace on a man is all kinds of sexy.

The gold chain was the first thing I noticed about him, even before seeing his muscles ripple as he flexed under his tight t-shirt. The bright white cotton a beautiful contrast to his Hispanic skin accentuated by days spent working in the sun.

My first few hours as the office secretary of Construction Corp hadn't even passed and already my breath had been taken away.

He was beautiful.

The next several weeks were a whirlwind, as I learned the ins and outs of my new position. I easily fell into a routine. I was there before first light to open the office and there after sunset to lock up before heading to the gym for an intense workout and then crashing into bed for a few hours before beginning the cycle again.

Although we were introduced on the first day and I knew a lot about him from his personnel file, Raphael and I were both shy and it took a while for us to even begin wishing each other a "Good Morning" and "Buenos Noches".

Sometime during the middle of the summer, he was promoted to shift supervisor which called for a couple hours of paperwork every night once he had finished on the physical job.

Being the one with the key to the office, I always hung around until he finished. He would walk me out and wait while I set the alarm and locked up for the night.

Slowly, we shyly began sharing our stories.

He had immigrated from Mexico with his wife and her family, living in California for a few years until her untimely death. He had taken his two children and moved to the Southeast to squelch the haunting memories of their love. He talked about his children with such love and was always eager to get home to kiss them goodnight, but as the weeks passed, we began to linger near the door in conversation long after I had locked up for the night.

We talked about everything.

Our childhood, our past, our dreams, religion.

He was Catholic, I discovered, once I had built up the courage to ask about the pendant hanging from the gold chain that never left his neck.

A saint.

Being interested in religions and believing in some sort of higher power, I was intrigued with his story and his devotion to his faith.

One night, as I took the key from the lock and turned to face him, he hadn't stepped away from the landing and we were suddenly only a breath apart.

I felt the air rip from my lungs even as he made a dark, low sound deep in his chest. I called up my courage and tentatively brushed my fingertips down his hand, then up his arm, reveling in the hard, hard muscles beneath them. Abruptly, he got that 'deer in the headlights' look, turned, rushed to his truck and drove away.

I felt inexplicably bereft in the absence of him as I went about my evening routines.

The next day, he avoided me. I felt broken.

How could I have been so stupid?

I knew he was conflicted, after all, fornication was highly anti-Catholic in every sense, but he had invaded my space first!

Had I read the signs all wrong?

Later that night, he emerged from his office, signaling that he was done for the night. Instead of opening the door for me as he usually did, he stopped and turned towards me.

My breath caught in my throat when I met his smoldering gaze.

"I've prayed" he began in his delicious lilt "I've prayed that my desire for you would be taken away, that I could control it. But, Dios mio! I cannot stay away from you!"

His eyebrows had barely lifted in an unasked question before I had taken a step into him. The pleading look in his eyes vanished as his primal instincts took over.

Before I could say a single word, he had pushed my bag from my hands and grasped my shoulders, turning me, pinning me to the door.

Our lips met, his hot mouth scorching my skin as he traced a path down my neck. His powerful thigh forced my legs apart as his hands captured mine above my head.

I was overcome with sensations.

My surprise had given way to an enormous wave of lust. I began to grind my dripping pussy into the thigh that was violating my secret space.

A moan escaped my lips seconds before he left my neck to drown the sound with his mouth. His hands released mine, only to take hold of my blouse.

A quick pull and the buttons were skittering across the floor, a touch and my aching, tender breasts were free.

He paused a moment to pull his t-shirt over his head, then crushed his bare chest to mine. He covered my breasts with his hands, feeling the weight of them as he kissed me again. His lips traveled down to take a nipple into his mouth. Another groan escaped him as he suckled from first one and then the other.

I came.

Hard.

My legs nearly gave way as the rush of my orgasm hit me full on, but he yanked up my pencil skirt and lifted me around his waist in one smooth motion.

My legs wrapped around his fit body, I felt the bulge of his erection through his jeans rubbing my engorged clit through my lacy thong as he carried me to the couch in my office. The sensation was almost enough to send me over the edge for a second time.

My hands moved over his smoothly shaved head, down his back, his arms, his chest, down to undo the fly of his jeans. I was shaking so hard with desire at this point, it seemed to take ages to free his cock.

The cock I had been dreaming of since the first day he walked into the office came into view as I slid his jeans downward, my hands taking advantage and fully palming his sculpted ass on the way down.

Uncut, at least 8 inches long and wide enough that my hands could barely wrap around it, his penis was any woman's wet dream. I couldn't resist letting my tongue sneak out to taste the drop of precum glistening on the end of his impressive member.

His strong hands lifted me up and laid me on the couch. He buried his head into my chest again for a moment before looking into my eyes for the permission he so desperately needed. I nodded at him and he drove his cock home, into my waiting, soaking wet cunt.

The sudden impact of his hard flesh threw me into an immediate second orgasm. The wet walls of my vagina clenched him, greedily milking his seed.

He continued to thrust, his powerful arms on either side of my head. I took in the beautiful cut of his shoulders that shook as he came, finally reaching release inside my throbbing, aching wetness.

The gold pendant he always wore swung temptingly in my face. As the peak of ecstasy made him arch upward for a final thrust, I took the saintly image into my hand.

I kissed it, sending up a prayer to his God, begging forgiveness for the sins we would commit again.

And again.

And again.