Page 89 of Broken

I grab her ass, part her cheeks then buck into her, hard and fast until my seed pours free, filling her up. And that triggers another in her.

Her head tilts back, face angled toward the heavens, a sweet yet silent benediction on her tongue as we find ecstasy together, united as we are in blood, tears, and cum.

CHAPTER 26

Savio

Hide Behind My Disguise - Cleffy

Ioverexerted her.

When she passes out, guilt spears me, but selfishly, the release, after so damn long, fills me with a languor that melts my bones. So much so that I’m suddenly aware of how my hypertension had nothing to do with my heart, but my damn hormones.

I don’t even care that I’m dirty.

Carrying her over to the bed, I settle on the sheets, deciding we can rest until my alarm goes off, relaxing for the first time inyearswith her blanketing me.

All the while, I stare at the crown of her head where the scars are more visible after…

Merde.

I was rougher than I should have been with her.

The thought has me scraping a hand over my face. Not even that slight jostle stirs her though, so I endeavor to earn forgiveness in other ways later and choose to relax with hercovering me like liquid silk that seeps into every crack and chasm in my soul.

There’s no hiding from how much better I feel. The orgasm is part of it, certainly, but her weight on top of me, her trust, her gift—I’m not worthy of her. But even as that truth hits home, I don’t cringe away from it.

Worth can be earned. Hell, itshouldbe earned.

And I believe that Andrea will give me the time to do exactly that.

The alarm doesn’t wake her so I leave her sleeping to go about my daily chores. It feels distinctly odd to be doing them when I’ve just broken one of the key vows of the priesthood. I should feel ashamed, I should feel like I need to punish myself, but I don’t.

If anything, there’s a harmony inside me that’s better than a choral performance of “Morning Has Broken.”

Not even the fact that she sleeps through me scrubbing the wall beside the dresser—it’s a nightmare waiting to happen when blood dries—can get me down.

But as the hours pass without even a murmur, my disappearing forLaudsgoing without notice, I’ll admit to being worried.

I know she’s insane, and I know she’s ill, yet I can’t help but believe her when she says I’m hers and she’s mine. That I might have hurt her… it would be the end of me.

The thought makes me frown as I flip through the Bible and make a few mental annotations for the afternoon service today.

A cough sounds in the church, and I peer at the aisle, my brows rising when I see someone hovering by the last pew. I squint since I’m bathed in the morning light and he’s standing in the dark.

When I register who he is, though, my mood plummets.

The day had started so well.

Marco Corelli.

If ever there was sin personified, it’s him.

That he dares to even walk in here tells me a lot about my predecessor. I already knew he was a charlatan, what with how he allowed the food bank and the soup kitchen to flounder the way they were when I arrived at the parish, but knowing that Corelli was welcomed has my anger surging.

He only comes after a purge, and the last one was just on the brink of the old Father leaving and my taking his seat in this parish.

There’s more blood on his hands than anyone I’ve met since Algeria. If anyone needs eradicating, it’s him.

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