Page 29 of Daddy's Sinner

“Is it really that surprising?” he asks, amusement dancing in his onyx eyes. The stained glass windows cast colorful patterns across his chiseled features, making him look otherworldly, almost too beautiful for this sacred place. “I like books. I enjoy reading in my free time. Books are like holy scripture to me. And maybe I wanted to see you again.”

“Is this your confession, then?” I dare to tease, holding the bag closer to my chest. His laughter fills the church, echoing off the high vaulted ceilings.

"Me, confess? I fear it would take more than a confession to absolve my transgressions," he says smoothly, running a hand through his dark hair. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he leans casually against one of the wooden pews, crossing his arms over his chest.

I blink, trying to process what he just revealed. "Is your name even Alex?" I ask, my voice laced with confusion and curiosity. “Or was that a lie?”

He chuckles softly, though there’s an undercurrent of something darker. “I suppose I can admit that I gave you my dead name—Alex. The name my mother gave me. But my name, it’s Matheo, the name my father chose for me.”

A shadow flickers across his face, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Alex was real,” he says, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “Alex is who I was. But Matheo... Matheo is who I am now. It's who I’ve become. The name my father gave me to reflect the man I’m meant to be.”

My mind races as I try to reconcile the man, I thought I knew with the one standing before me now. “Matheo…” I repeat, the name feeling unfamiliar yet somehow right for him. “And the meetings at the bookstore... were they planned?”

His gaze drops momentarily before locking back onto mine, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Yes,” he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “I had to see you. So, I went back there in hopes that you would be there.”

His words send a thrill through me, my breath catching. “You came to see me?” I ask, my heart pounding.

He nods, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes, I couldn’t stay away, Marisol,” he says, his voice low and charged with intensity. “Not then. Not now. Not ever. There’s something between us... something I can’t ignore.”

My pulse quickens as he closes the distance between us, his presence consuming. “And what is that, exactly?” I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. “A pull,” he murmurs, “a connection... something that defies reason. It’s like fate itself has brought us together, Marisol. But it’s dangerous... for both of us.”

His words hang in the air between us, and I’m caught between fear and desire. Whatever this is, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt. And yet, I can’t deny the truth in his eyes—the same truth that burns within me.

The revelation sends a shock through me, and I struggle to find my voice. “Matheo… Father Matheo,” I whisper, tasting the name on my lips. Itfeels forbidden, as if by speaking it, I’m invoking something dark, something I shouldn’t dare to summon.

I swallow hard, my thoughts swirling with a mix of fear, excitement, and an obsessive pull I can’t resist. “I… I read a book once,” I begin, my voice trembling. “About a priest and a nun. There’s a scene in it… something I’ve always wanted to act out.”

His eyes darken with understanding, the playful glint replaced by something far more dangerous. He steps closer, the intensity in his gaze making my knees weak, my thoughts frantic. The teachings, the warnings, the whispers of the Prophet flood my mind, telling me to resist, but the pull is stronger—something far more powerful than any doctrine.

“And what scene would that be?” he asks, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if the sacred space we occupy could shatter under the weight of our desires. The air between us crackles with tension, the sanctity of the church now tainted by the sinful thoughts racing through my mind. My heart beats faster, my thoughts spiraling into a maddening loop:This is wrong. This is right. This is destiny.

I take a deep breath, daring to step closer, my heart pounding so loudly I fear he might hear it. “The scene where the priest finally gives in to temptation,” I say, my voice barely audible. “Where he loses himself… to sin.”

His hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, and I shiver at the touch. His closeness is intoxicating, overwhelming, and I find myself drowning in the depths of his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for that, Marisol?” he asks, his voice a velvet caress, pulling me deeper into the abyss of my own desires.

I don’t answer with words, but the look in my eyes says he understood. The voices in my head scream of sin, of damnation, of the Prophet’s wrath, yet all I feel is an overpowering need—an obsession that eclipses everything else. I’ve been led here by something greater than myself, drawn into this forbidden dance with the man who was once Alex, nowFather Matheo. And I’m ready—ready to be damned if it means being with him, ready to abandon everything I’ve known for the promise of what lies beyond these earthly bonds.

Sinner

Iwatch as a blush spreads up Marisol’s slender neck, painting her cheeks a deep crimson. She smiles, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. “Maybe,” she replies, clutching her bag tighter to her chest. Her hair is half-up and half-down today, the coils framing her face perfectly. That white cotton dress clings to her small waist and modest bust, accentuating every curve. Her warm chocolate eyes are filled with both desire and amusement as I step away from the pew and move closer to her. I brush a stray curl from her face, feeling a surge of possessiveness. She’s sinfully beautiful and fucking mine.

“Tell me more about your book if you’re not here to confess any sins, pretty girl,” I murmur, my voice low, dripping with darker intent.

Her cheeks flush even deeper, the color contrasting vividly against her caramel skin. Her fingers grip the bag tightly, and I shudder, imagining them gripping me instead. “The nun falls for the priest,” she whispers, her eyes sparkling with the allure of forbidden knowledge. I almost laugh at the irony.

“Go on,” I urge, stepping closer, the proximity a delicious torment. Her gaze falters for a moment before meeting mine again with a hint of mischief.

“They both try to resist the pull, try not to sin,” she continues, her voice trembling. “But the lust wins. The nun… she gives in.” Her words hang in the air, charged with a raw, primal energy.

I can’t help but smile, leaning in closer, our breaths mingling. The intoxicating scent of cocoa and fresh linen surrounds me. “And how does the good sister handle such… complicated situation?”

Her breath hitches, her eyes darting away momentarily before returning to mine, filled with hesitation and desire. “She… she surrenders to her desires. They… they defile each other on the altar,” she breathes, her voice heavy with a sense of personal confession.

The thought of Marisol surrendering, her body beneath me, the sacred desecrated by our passion—it’s overwhelming. I step even closer, my voice a heated whisper. “On the altar? Is that what you want, Marisol? To be defiled under God’s watchful eye?”

Her eyes widen, and she shudders lightly as my words sink in. The weight of my question electrifies the space between us, a nearly palpable tension. I’m consumed by the thought of her completely in my control, a divine and sinful offering.

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