A pretty little cry echoes through the empty room, shattering the silence there as it stretches from the front of the church to the pews, refracting off the elaborate columns and vaulted ceilings; Justin smirks and goes for another, teasing the lace of Sydney’s panties a little harder, this time. There’s no noise this time around, pardoning the restrained little choke grating the back of her throat, but his efforts are rewarded by a sudden exaggeration of her curves as she sucks in a silencing breath, so he supposes he doesn’t mind.
“You doing all right, love?” he drawls, drawing back for a moment to admire the girl beneath him; normally stoic face flushed and scrunched with longing, each breath coming out as a labored pant, hair fanned out to halo her head like the dawn unwoven. It’s a bit of a tight fit, her pinned down beneath him on the altar, but he’s pretty sure it’s worth it.
Sydney makes what is likely intended to be a sound of disgust (but comes out reminiscent of a moan) as her back arches, her fingers dragging down Justin’s back as she pulls his head down to kiss her neck. “You—” Another gasp as his teeth graze the more sensitive nuances of her neck. “—are the biggest fucking tease — ooh…”
Smirking, his hand dips to drag her panties down her thighs. “Cursing in church?” he asks lowly, fairly growling into her ear. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that’s a sin.”
Her eyes darken; in a moment of rebellion, she bucks her hips, making for a rather sudden jolt against his erection. His breath hitches, and she brings him closer yet again, fingers lacing a crown about the back of his neck. When she speaks again, her voice is little more than a rough whisper: “I suggest you punish me, then.”