Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Delana had been young, and although I had wanted to do things with her—things other than kissing and playing with her tits—she’d been adamant about waiting until marriage. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten sick, we’d have finally given in and done more. But she died. Taking my heart with her. I had believed that meant my desire for sexual things too.
I had been wrong. So very, very wrong.
Turning my head to the left, I stared at my rosary beads. I’d picked them up earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to pray. The thought of asking for forgiveness and calling what I’d done with Saylor a sin bothered me. What did that say about me? I was a priest.
I had spent years of my life to get to where I am now. Money spent to get through seminary. Guilt at that thought ripped through me. Delana’s parents, devout Catholics, had paid for my seminary degree. They’d said it was what she would have wanted.
Now, I’m finger-fucking a girl eight years younger than me and smelling her on my hand, refusing to wash it.
What happened to me? How did I become this?
Before her, I’d even been smug about my ability not to succumb to lust. Sure, I’d fought off the need to masturbate and only given in to that sin five times since finishing seminary. All of which I had confessed and asked forgiveness for.
This was different.
How did I go back after knowing how her cunt felt? Slick, tight, soft, so hot. The thought of my dick sinking into that. No wonder men were brought down by sex.
My hand went to squeeze the erection I’d given myself, thinking about it.
My phone’s text message alert went off, and I sat up, taking my hand off my dick, and picked it up. Fully expecting it to be someone in need of food or shelter or wanting to help clean up tomorrow. That wasn’t what it was.
I stared down at her name—Dimples. I’d changed it in my phone after she added her number. Lifting my fingers to my nose again, I smelled her, then slid my thumb over the phone to read what she had sent.
Saylor:
I will be late tomorrow morning.
That was it. No explanation. Nothing.
She was upset with me. I tried to think of what I had done wrong.
Jude:
Is everything okay?
I waited while replaying everything that had been said before I left her.
Saylor:
Yes.
I frowned. That had been a lot of dots for one word.
Jude:
No, something is wrong. What is it?
There was a tightening in my chest. Was that anxiety? I gripped the phone, willing her to type faster. Dots, gone, dots again, then gone.
I hit Call and lifted the phone to my ear. Texting wasn’t going to be enough. I didn’t like how this felt. I wanted to hear her voice.
“Hello?” she said hesitantly.
“What’s with the short replies?”
She sighed. “I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered with me.”
The slight edge of pain in her voice had me wanting to get in a car I didn’t own and drive to her house that I didn’t know the address to.
“You could never bother me,” I replied honestly. “Why would you think that you would?”
“Because you couldn’t get away from me fast enough today.”
Was she serious?
“Four men—one who I know is your friend, the others I’m assuming are family—showed up to get you. And I’d just had you come on my fingers. It was an awkward situation.”
She sucked in a breath when I said come on my fingers, and my dick throbbed in my pants. I unbuttoned my jeans, then unzipped them to free myself before I had a permanent zipper scar. I leaned back on the sofa and threw my arm over my eyes, hoping if I didn’t look at my hard dick, I wouldn’t think of where I wanted to put it.
“They were family. My dad—he has Parkinson’s, and it’s gotten to the point that he is in a wheelchair. He can’t get around like he used to. My, uh, uncle and cousins came for him.”
I hadn’t known about her dad. That got my mind off my erection.
“I knew your parents were worried. I didn’t know about your dad. I just…well, they had come to get you, and me standing there was holding things up.”
I heard a rustling and wondered where she was. It was quiet. Maybe her bedroom.
“They were. My mom is a bit dramatic. Which upsets Dad,” she said. “So, that was why you left? Because of the guys? You weren’t regretting it, like on Sunday?”
Regret. That was a complicated word. One I wasn’t sure I recognized anymore.
“Dimples, I’ve not washed my hand all day so that I can smell your pussy.”
“Oh.” Her breathy response had me biting back a groan. “Really?”
If I wasn’t so hard right now, I’d laugh. “I swear.”
“Can priests swear?”