Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
4
Jordan
Oh, holy crap.
Just, crap, crap, and more crap.
Fuck, what have I done? Honestly, what did I just do? What was I thinking?
That’s the answer right there: I wasn’t thinking. After all, who would do what I just did?
Was it a good idea?
No, probably not. Definitely not.
I mean, this girl came to me with her issues and worries, and, instead of giving her guidance like I usually do with one of my flock, I slept with her.
I literally made love to her. I turned her around and slipped it right into her sweet ass while in my office. Right there, with her bent over my desk.
Holy fuck. What is Jason going to say? What are the police going to say? How can I even begin to ask my Maker for forgiveness?
But the thing is, I don’t feel repentant at all because Mira was so tasty and ripe, that I only feel a sense of fulfillment now that we’ve been together. Who knew an innocent virgin could do that for me?
Yet, there are still my earthly problems. I know I won’t be able to lie about what happened to Jason because he knows me too well, and what I’ve done isn’t something that you can just conveniently “forget” to mention either. But maybe I’ll give myself some time to think over what I’ve done. I need like a day or two to process, and then I’ll be ready to talk to my co-pastor about this. I swear.
I take a seat at my desk, leaning back. I need to relax. If I’m tense and stressed, I will not get through the next two hours.
Just breathe and stay calm.
Breathe and stay calm.
Let it all out.
With effort, I’m able to slow my mind and relax a little bit. Oxygen begins to flow and my brain starts to churn. How will I talk to Jason? How will I bring up the fact that I just slept with a beautiful young parishioner? One who seems to adore the church, and who came to me for guidance?
Fuck. I’m screwed and with a growl of anxiety, I cover my face with my hands, scrubbing my features. This isn’t going to end well, and I only have myself to blame.
Jason and I share an apartment because it’s convenient. The apartment’s small, but we’re clean guys and we try to stay out of one another’s way. When I get home, he’s parked on the couch, typing away on his computer like a madman.
I manage a weak smile while shucking off my coat. If I get all in my head, I’m going to end up blurting out what went down today, and that would be fucking disaster.
I go straight to the kitchen, ready to rid myself of these unholy thoughts. It’s my turn to cook tonight, and I’m going to make a meal worthy of the gods.
I lay my ingredients out on the table. Maybe if I’m visually preoccupied, then I’ll be able to stop ruminating about what happened today. Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen.
I try to stay focused on cooking. The meal I decided to go with is simple: grilled chicken, green beans, and Cajun rice. There will be a slight flourish with some exotic spices, but it’s a simple meal regardless.
It doesn’t take me too long to get through prepping the ingredients. I chop up what needs to be chopped, sprinkle on some spices, and then place the chicken in the oven to bake at three fifty. The rice cooker is doing its thing, and the green beans have finished boiling and are now frying in the pot with some olive oil and garlic.
The kitchen is smelling pretty goddamn good.
At this point, everything is close to being finished, and I grab a wooden spoon. I’m stirring the green beans, making sure they don’t burn, but it only takes about three seconds for my mind to wander to forbidden places because, honestly, Mira is really all I can think about right now.
Her beautiful body under mine as I drove myself into her. Her sweet moans. The little gasps and the way she bent over even further, as if welcoming me inside. She sounded like she really liked having me inside of her, that’s for sure. My spoon bangs against the pot in frustration. What the fuck is wrong with me? She was a virgin who took a vow, and I drove her to break that vow. What kind of pastor am I? I don’t deserve to be a shepherd, that’s for sure.
“Are you okay over there?” Jason calls from the living room. “That food smells good.”
“I’m fine,” is my grunt. But of course, I’m not fine at all because I’ve been a bastard, and I know it. Fuck. I’m going to have to find some way to fix this, but how?