Page 18 of Forgive Me, Father

I nod, my eyes stinging with tears. I’ve been on my own for so long that having someone to share the burden with is a relief. It’s a blessing.

He wraps me in his arms, holding me tight against his chest. Tears streak down my cheeks, but for once, they’re not desperate tears of sadness. They’re tears of relief. Tears of hope.

After several moments, he pulls back and gently wipes my tears away, kissing my forehead and my cheeks.

“It’ll be okay, Liv. I promise. I’m here now, and I’ve got you.”

I shoot him a watery smile, marveling at the turn my life’s taken over the past twelve hours. “I believe you.” And I do. I really do.

We keep eating, the conversation moving to lighter topics. We talk about movies and music, about books and favourite places in the city. We both loveGame of Thronesand Coldplay, the beach in the summer, skating at Nathan Phillips Square in the winter. We both love comedies and fantasy novels. We’re more alike than I would’ve guessed. And I love learning all of these little facts about him. They’re precious little tidbits that bring who he is, not as a priest, but as a person, into sharper focus. He loves video games, is a total history buff, and enjoys working out (yeah, I noticed). He has two brothers, both ofwhom live in the city. One is a detective, the other a high school teacher. Both are married with kids, making him an uncle three times over. He speaks fluent Italian and some Latin. I store every single one of these tidbits away, hoarding them the way a dragon hoards gold.

He feeds me bites of every single pastry in the bag, and once we’re finished eating, he sips his coffee while his free hand wanders over my bare skin, tracing patterns on my shoulder, drawing circles on my thigh.

“You were incredible last night, angel,” he murmurs, a huskiness creeping into his voice. “I can’t believe how well you took me.”

I glow from the inside out at his praise. “You don’t regret—” He cuts me off before I can finish my question.

“How could I ever regret claiming what’s mine?”

I blush furiously at his words, despite the fact that we’re lounging naked in bed together. “But…what about your job? Your whole life?”

He smiles faintly. “Obviously I’ll have to make some changes, since I don’t plan on ever letting you go.” He sighs. “Knowing how you feel, I wish I’d known. All this time, I could’ve been looking after you.” He kisses my neck, my shoulder. “Nothing has ever felt as right as being inside you, angel. Nothing. You’re my calling. I see that now.”

Oh, my heart. “Maybe I was always meant to be yours.”

He grins, that tendril of hair falling over his forehead. God, he’s so impossibly sexy. How is he mine? “No maybe about it, Liv. You and I both felt it from the start.”

I nod. I’ve always been drawn to him on a level beyond physical attraction.

His fingers trail over my hips and he tuts quietly at the faint bruises emerging where he gripped me. “I was too rough with you.”

I shake my head. “No. You weren’t. I loved every second of it, Gabe.” I bite my lip as our eyes meet. “I like the bruises.”

His eyes flutter closed for a moment and he lets out a long breath, as though he’s wrestling for control. “How sore is your pussy today?” he asks, cupping me gently. I moan softly and press into his touch.

“It’s pretty sore,” I answer honestly. I don’t want him to feel bad, but I don’t want to lie to him either.

He leans down and presses a kiss to my shoulder, his mouth warm against my skin. “Lie on your stomach and let Daddy take care of you.”

I moan softly, my body responding immediately to the wordDaddy.It might be taboo or messed up, but I don’t care. It feels right in a way that nothing else ever has.

I roll over, pressing my cheek into the fluffy pillow as Gabe disappears into the bathroom. He returns with a small bottle in his hand, bearing the hotel’s logo on the label. Climbing back onto the bed, he straddles my thighs, his weight a comforting pressure.

My ideal weight is my priest on top of me. Ha.

God, I can’t remember the last time I felt light enough to make jokes, even if only to myself.

“What’s that?” I ask, glancing at the bottle over my shoulder.

“Massage oil,” he says, flipping open the cap. “Need to take care of my girl.”

He drizzles the oil onto my back, then tosses the bottle onto the bed beside me. His hands follow the slippery trail, smoothing it over my skin. I moan softly, the feeling of Gabe’s hands on me pure bliss. He works his way down my body, massaging my shoulders, my lower back, my ass, the backs of my thighs. Every single sweep of his hands over my body has me melting into the mattress as a hot pulse gathers between my legs.My hips shift restlessly as he works his fingers against the tense muscles of my thighs.

“Spread your legs for Daddy, angel,” he says, his voice hoarse. He shifts, and I can feel his hard cock brush against me. I do as he says immediately, eager and horny. Completely shameless. I spread my legs as wide as I possibly can, shivering as the air hits my hot, wet pussy. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and I sigh happily.

“I love being your good girl,” I say quietly, and he strokes a hand over my ass.

“Of course you do,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Because you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.” He grabs the bottle and drizzles more oil onto his hands, warming it up before he touches me. And then his hands are on me, massaging my inner thighs, his thumbs brushing against the outer lips of my pussy. I gasp, hips jerking and writhing as his fingers move closer and closer to where I want them most.

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