My eyes were heavy with on-coming tears, and I curled my hands into fists at my sides, shutting my stupid eyes until my temples screamed. What was wrong with me? There was no way I was going to cry in front of this man.
“Constance, look at me.” He placed his hands on my knees. The breadth and warmth of his touch both anchored and jolted me.
I opened my eyes to find him squatting down in front of me, his beautiful face filled with concern.
“I have not abandoned you,” he said, determined.
I turned away from him and looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t bear his words, his eyes.
He took my chin and turned me gently back to face him. “In fact, this is where you’re meant to be, child. My Constant Star.” When my lips trembled, he traced them with his thumb. “You are my Beloved, and you are home. You aremine.”
My hand flew to his and pushed him away. “What game are you playing, Father? How cruel can you be? I don’t know you, and you’ve obviously heard of my reputation of being… a troublemaker. Insane. Rebellious and flighty. I may be those things they say I am, but I’m not stupid. If it’s me your wish to dip your stick in, then at least be honest with me! If you want to fuck, say it, don’t stink it up with this fantasy shit.”
Ignoring my outburst, he shook his head, tilting it to the side. “Shh… Listen.”
Glaring at him, I frowned.“What?”
“Constance, listen to me,” said Solomon in my head, in the room, all around and nowhere, but definitely not from the mouth and lips of the man before me. “He is me, and I am him. Trust me, child. You will know all soon.”
I stared into Father Kent’s amber depths, my breath trapped within my lungs. Strangely, a picture of Hannah and Jack came to me then, and for a split second I felt… guilt. Understanding. Laughter bubbled up inside me.
At last the puppeteer had traded places with the puppet.
“Never!” Father Kent said adamantly, his face filled with hurt and something else I couldn’t begin to understand. “Never feel guilty for opening passion’s doors, Constance. Never.” With angelic grace, he stood then and plucked me up into his arms, carrying me to his desk chair. He held me close on his lap and kissed my temple. I shivered. No one had ever touched me like he had. Ever.
The first thing he did was take off my veil and headpiece. Next, he leaned back a bit to undo the pins that held my hair in place.
“Just like this.” His voice was deep and reverent as he combed my hair slowly with his fingers. “This is how I’ve always pictured us together. You in my arms, with your moonstruck hair gathered in my fingers, so long and silky.” He sighed and smelled my hair. “Such beauty, my Constance.”
I didn’t know what to say, what to think… only feel, and at that moment, as I leaned back into his strong embrace, giving into his warmth and scent, I felt content for the first time in my life.
“You are home now, with me at last, Constance.”
I shut my eyes and considered all that had happened over the past few days. “It’s really you? But that’s not possible. How?” When I opened my eyes and met his, something sparked. “You’re real, aren’t you? The voice… the… whatever, who I’ve known my whole life, like my own thoughts?” It still didn’t seem possible. Far from it, but with his arms around me, I believed.
“Itisme. And we have a lot of work to do, you and I, my Beloved. No more questions, just trust.” He kissed my cheek, nuzzling my head to the side. My body broke out in chills and I released a moan.
His hand slid under my habit, taking its time leisurely up my thigh in firm strokes. It was too much, and I wiggled in his lap, but his grip on my hip stilled me. It was then that I felt his erection, hard and hot against my other hip.
“Do you feel my cock, my beauty?” he whispered, his tone husky, with a trace of something I’ve never heard in it before. I loved it. I wanted to hear it again. “Tomorrow night, my darling Constance, I will take your sweet cunt and taste you.”
His words made me moan again. I wanted him now, I burned for him. I didn’t want to wait.
Reading my thoughts, he laughed. “Oh but you will. I’ll have you—”
A burst of noise broke the spell.
“—Father, Oh!” Sister Diane froze, her hand still on the doorknob. She looked from him to me with eyes wide like a bug. “Forgive me…um—”
I couldn’t see his face, but I heard the danger in his voice clearly when he addressed her. “Out, woman.”
She paled and ran, slamming the front door of the parish office in her wake. Terrified and frozen myself—I’d never heard Solomon speak like that before and never wanted to again—I tried to sit up, but he held me tight, his arm around my waist a heavy bar of steel.
“Have no fear. She will keep quiet, Constance.” He kissed my head again, his voice back to normal now. “Go back to the parish and finish your work. I will come to you after mass. But first…” He captured my jaw with his fingers, his palm cupping my neck, turning my mouth to his. I closed my eyes and felt his perfect soft lips touch mine. I had never kissed a man before. Never wanted to. But Solomon was more than just a man.
Opening my mouth to his, I tentatively touched his tongue with mine, marveling at the warm, wet softness, the sweetness of him. I tasted him gingerly, cautiously. He groaned, and pulled me closer, sweeping inside my mouth, taking from me. My toes curled and my breath hitched. When his hand squeezed my hip again in warning, I reluctantly pulled away with a pout, which had him chuckling.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered on a smile that dazzled me and made me feel drunk.