Page 107 of Broken

I’ve never done this before, but in this place, it feels like an act of benediction.

I free him from these earthly chains and remind him what it feels like to walk in the light.

As my head bobs, I suck harder, my cheeks caving in as I grace him with the pressure he needs. The ache in my jaw is nothing to the delight that fills me when he releases sounds of relief, pleasure. My fingers find his balls and I tug on them, softly at first, gently, then with the bite of pain he needs.

He groans at that, long and low, before rasping, “You sent me this angel, Father. YOU. How can this be a sin? How can it be? She is mine and I am hers?—”

Nothing could have prepared me for what those words might do to me.

Settling higher on my knees, I turn my heel inwards, placing pressure against my denim-covered pussy. Leaning into it, I rock my hips as I pleasure Savio, reveling in his soft groans, in the bite of his fingers in my hair, in the pumping of his ass as he feeds me his dick.

When I come, it’s unexpected and all the more glorious because he does too.

Cum pours out of him and with it, the burst of tension that’s made him like a walking storm cloud the whole afternoon. He stays there, body bowed in a perfect arc as his seed slaloms the back of my throat.

I swallow as much of it as I can, but some slips from the corners of my mouth.

When he slumps, his thumb strokes my cheek. Over and over. Tired, I rest my head against his thigh, but the prospect of breaking the connection is beyond me. I don’t want to let him go,so I keep his dick in my mouth. Every now and then, I suckle, hearing him groan, but he doesn’t stop me.

Outside the booth, the sudden sound of footsteps clapping against the stone flags is inordinately loud.

I make to retreat, but his hand stays on my head, that thumb stroking my cheek, holding me in place.

When someone settles in the confessional, my eyes widen as the stranger rasps, “Am I too late, Father?”

“No, my child. You are not.”

I shift back onto my heels, more than prepared to let go of him, but Savio taps the soft flesh under my chin. It’s a silent prompt. What it isn’t, is a request for me to leave him.

Gently sucking, I continue to keep his cock warm until he offers the penitent man who berates himself for being attracted to his best friend’s wife, “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”

For the first time since I met him, those words are imbued with feeling.

They’re not uttered as a part of his role in the Church. But as a man who believes in God.

AndIdid that for him.

After, when he comes in my mouth again, he helps me stand once I’ve tucked him away. A part of me feared he’d be disgusted by my actions, but he joins our lips in a simple, lingering kiss.

“I love you,mon ange,” he tells me, the words a blessing.

Though tears prick my eyes, I whisper, “I know.”

CHAPTER 32

Andrea

Wherever You Will Go - The Calling

After, an unnerving calm overcame Savio.

He guided me to a car I didn’t know he owned once he’d locked the church up for the night, each of his chores carried out with care, as if he wanted to cherish the memory in the future. When he settled behind the wheel, that was the moment a preternatural stillness overtook him.

The priest didn’t revert to being a man, but a hunter.

After wending his way through the crazy traffic and managing the minor miracle of finding a parking space, I grab his hand before he can get out and rub my thumb over his knuckles.

I don’t kiss him—not in his priest garb.

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