Page 5 of Praise Me: Priest

“For what, Father?” I whisper into the breeze.

He exhales shakily. “My sinful thoughts.”

“Everyone has sinful thoughts,” I say, a pulse beginning to thrum low in my tummy, lower even. “Right?”

I hear him swallow. “Do you?”

“Not until now,” I whisper, wanting to open my legs another inch, but I…I shouldn’t. Imustn’t.It’s bad enough that I’m talking to a priest with such familiarity. That my body seems to be responding to him the way a woman responds to a man when she’s ovulating. My aunt has explained the whole process to me.Is this what she calls “spring fever”? Being in heat? If so, I should be ashamed of myself. He’s a man of God.

“Farrah?” he says, voice low-pitched.

“Yes?”

His gaze flickers to mine, danger lurking in their depths. “Close your legs, before I shove them open them all the way.”

I don’t mean to do it. I don’t mean for my thighs to spread like the pages of a book, but they lose all power in the wake of his…confession? Threat? My whimper carries across the field as he looks upon my flesh, the cotton stretched tightly over my pussy.

Features rapt, taut, he dips his face between my open thighs, his mouth open and panting—

“Father McDaniel!” exclaims a voice behind him.

It’s another priest. A much older, visibly appalled one.

“I’ll have you defrocked for this.”

Chapter Three

Rune

I’ll have you defrocked for this.

Those words connect with my chest like a battering ram.

My God, what have I done?

Stunned at how quickly I’ve embarked on a fall from grace, I watch as Farrah scrambles into a sitting position, her chocolate tossed unceremoniously into the grass. It’s impossible not to notice her nipples are hard, poking against the snug bodice of her dress. Impossible not to notice her cheeks are flushed pink from my attention, her tumble of red hair mussed from lying down.

What would I have done if Monsignor Hannibal hadn’t arrived?

You know what you’d be doing.

She’d be squealing in delight right now while I suckled her clit, the same way she sucked on that chocolate. I might even be riding her for broke, her panties ripped off in my fist, my vow of celibacy broken in the most animalistic way possible.

Dear God.

I’ve never had a women affect me like this.

Mere minutes in her tough but vulnerable presence and I’ve forgotten that I’ve dedicated my life to my faith. I’ve forgotten how a man letting his physical needs rule his life only leads to pain and ruin and humiliation.

“Don’t worry,” Farrah whispers for my ears alone, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’ve got this.” I’m still frozen with shock at myself when Farrah looks past me and addresses Monsignor Hannibal. “Oh, my goodness, I can’t imagine how this looks, but Father McDaniel was being so kind as to help me with an injury.”

She lifts her elbow and, for the first time, I see her elbow is soundly scraped and bleeding. Denial hits me like a blow. I was sitting here speaking to her, thinking impure thoughts about her, while she was bleeding?

“Someone chased me from the marketplace with ill intentions. I fell and hit my head, you see,” she continues. “So I laid down, feeling all woozy. Father McDaniel was observing me to see if I was bruised or scraped anywhere else.”

“We must bandage your elbow,” I rasp, unable to focus on the main problem anymore. Not when she’s hurt. “Farrah…”

“It’s fine,” she assures me, looking like she wants to touch my arm, but hesitating. “I’ve had worse.”

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