Page 16 of Praise Me: Priest

It stirs…everything. My blood, my wayward fantasies…my heart.

Farrah stirs my heart.

That’s what scares me. We’ve awoken something insatiable in one another. A chemistry of the flesh. But it’s impossible to pretend like there isn’t much more to the connection between us. When I woke up this morning after a restless night, my immediate need was to hear her voice. To find out how she passed her first night in the rectory walls. To experience her smile. To know more about her.

Problem is, the more I know about Farrah, the more I ache to know it all. Every fear and insecurity. Everything that brings her joy. Her favorite and least favorite memories.

How she would look carrying a child.

Mine.

I exhale through a shudder, momentarily pausing in my recitation as a drop of come beads on the head of my cock, soaking into my robes. My hands are unsteady, the muscles of my stomach knit in a torturous pattern. No relief in sight. Because the only thing that will fully relieve me is Farrah’s soft, virgin cunt and Icannotlet myself have it.

Remember your vows.

With a hard swallow, I raise the chalice of wine and complete the ritual—

Someone enters the back of the church. A man. He slips in through the shadows and steps into the light, allowing me to see his face. Ice forms on my skin when I recognize Mr. Tandy, the man who wants to marry Farrah.

The man who has told me in confession on multiple occasions that he fantasizes about tying Farrah up and whipping her.

Even from the front of the church, I can see his reaction to spotting Farrah in the back row of the church. His eyes widen, like he can’t believe his good fortune, but just as quickly they dim with something sinister. He advances toward her seat rubbing his hands together, a vampire stalking a lamb. As if sensing she’s in danger, she sits up straighter and looks around, discomfort transforming her expression when she notices Mr. Tandy.

He slides into the pew beside her, so close their shoulders touch, Farrah shrinking into herself before my very eyes. Destructive rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt singes my nerve endings and I almost drop the chalice in my haste to set it down, lest I cast it down the aisle. Now, Mr. Tandy leans toward Farrah, whispering something in her ear that makes her lose color, quickly pull away.

She stands to leave, but he grabs her wrist and yanks her back down into the pew—and I belt a command from deep in my chest, five words whipping trough the cathedral like a gale wind. “You will not touch her.”

The candles on either side of the altar flicker, several parishioners gasping at my tone. At what must be a drastic change in my demeanor. I’m bristled behind the altar, ready to attack. Ready to break commandments to defend what’s mine. Mr. Tandy is frozen, staring at me in bald-faced shock, but he hasn’t let go of her wrist and that drives me off the altar, my feet carrying me without consent from my brain. I can only think of ripping his fucking arms off. Protecting Farrah from this man who would put welts on her skin for his own enjoyment. This man who dares whisper in her precious ear.

I will crucify you.

Those words burn in my throat as I reach their pew and take Mr. Tandy by the collar, hauling him into the aisle and dragging him bodily toward the exit. Gasps and furious whispers follow me. I can’t do anything about those. I simply need to remove this monster from the presence of my sweetheart who has been assaulted by men twice in a matter of days. Who protects her outside these walls? No one. She is entirely vulnerable in her current situation—and I can’t stand that. I could choke to death on the knowledge.

“Father McDaniel,” sputters Mr. Tandy. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing you out.”

“I don’t wish to leave!”

“Then you shouldn’t have put your filthy hands on my—” I cut off my telling statement. “On Farrah. She is not yours to touch.”

“She will be one day. I’m just getting a head start.” He attempts to free himself from my grip but doesn’t succeed. “Soon, she will have no choice but to accept her fate. Remain in the shelter on the street, hungry and penniless. Or accept my proposal.” He looks back over his shoulder, seemingly to catch a final glimpse of Farrah and frankly, that sends me deeper into rage. “It’s the red hair, Father. It riles me so.” He backpedals when he sees my ferocious glare. “But all I want to do is speak with her.”

“You forget I’ve received your confession, Mr. Tandy. I know you want to do much more than speak with her.” Finally at the exit, I pull him outside and slam him up against the ancient wooden door, screeching the hinges. “Consider this your warning to stay away from Farrah. Permanently. Or I’ll whipyou, instead. Is that clear?”

Spittle flies from Mr. Tandy’s mouth as he attempts to suck down oxygen. “What business is this of yours, priest?”

“She is my business and my business alone,” I growl, twisting my fists in the front of his shirt. “That’s all you need to know.”

On the heels of that too-revealing statement, I sense we’re not alone.

Farrah watches through a crack in the door.

One glance in her direction is all it takes to see her eyes sparkle with gratitude.

Adoration.

Yearning.

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