Page 39 of Preacher Man
He cried out as I pushed deeper, muscles clenching around me, and I told him I loved him.Again and again, like it was scripture.
When I came inside him, deep and hard, the orgasm crashing through me like holy fire…
I woke up.
Panting.Sweating.
And soaked.
I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, heat crawling up my neck as I realized what had happened.
“Seriously?”I muttered to the ceiling.“A wet dream?What am I, thirteen?”
But the stickiness in my boxers said otherwise.
It wasn’t just hormones.It wasn’t just lust.
It was Jake.
I still felt him.The curve of his spine under my hand, and the way his voice cracked when he begged.The tears in his eyes the last time we were together.
I sat up in bed, peeled off my boxers, and tossed them in the hamper like they were evidence.Like I was still hoping I could hide the truth.
But I couldn’t.Not anymore.
I looked out the window, toward the ridge where the kids would be gathering soon for morning worship.
My heart ached in my chest.
“Damn it, God,” I whispered, voice shaking.“Give me a sign.”
My throat tightened.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Stay faithful to a church that tells me this is sin?That Jake is sin?
Or walk away from everything I’ve ever known… just so I can love him in the light?
Because God help me…
What if Jake is the only place I’ve ever truly felt holy?
* * *
The morning air was thick with the scent of pine needles and breakfast, and the distant hum of mosquitoes fighting for dominance in the trees.
I ambled down the dirt path toward the big white canvas tent pitched at the edge of the ridge, Bible tucked under my arm, heart thudding like I was heading into battle instead of Bible study.
Kids’ laughter floated through the air ahead of me.Light, innocent, untouched by the guilt I couldn’t seem to shake.
The tent was already buzzing with voices when I ducked inside.Half the kids were cross-legged in the grass, shoes kicked off, their little faces glowing with sleep-deprived joy and way too much sugar from breakfast.Someone had brought Skittles.
They greeted me like I was a celebrity, a chorus of “Hi, Brother Ethan!”and “You’re late!”ringing out as I moved to the front.
And then she was there.
Dixie.
