He was entranced.

Entranced by your voice, the way you pleaded, the way you begged for forgiveness. Everything in this confessional booth, everything you were spilling to him—it felt sinful and so wrong to hear. But, when has wrong ever felt so right? It’s what the booth was built for, anyway.

Mason took a deep breath as he clutched the crucifix necklace by his chest, fidgeting with it. He wants you, but he fights back his carnal desires, chains them up, even.

“Tell me everything.”