Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
He inserts his index finger into his mouth, eyes falling to half mast as a low rumble comes from his chest making me shiver.
“Kitty,” he mutters, the word pained, exasperated, frustrated. “I’m a priest. Fuck. Stand up.” He tugs me upward, my head spinning on a merry-go-round as he smooths my damp clothes into place. “I’m sorry.”
“But—”
“Coming.” He shouts over his shoulder toward the voice, then places his hand on the center of my back, leading me forward. “I’ll walk you back to the dormitory. Finish the reading assignment that was on your schedule this morning as well as cleaning your bathroom and sweeping the second floor hallway. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Chores? I’ll give you chores.
Saint Margarets resort just lost a star. I’m falling for the hot priest.
Ten out of ten, don’t recommend.
CHAPTER 10
Martin
There's no way now that I’ve felt her on my fingers and tasted her in my mouth that I can undo what I've done.
I’ve hated every moment since she disappeared into the building as I walked off in a blind rage, talking to the foreman about them digging through the main electrical line to the school. Half the classrooms will be dark for another week until they fucking fix it.
Why do I want this place again?
Since Kitty arrived, I’m not sure.
I can't do this to her. What am I? Who am i? Certainly not a man that she deserves.
When I look at her I see all the hope and possibility that I've defined. This is my life now. It's my commitment not only to the church, not only to God, it’s what keeps me sane.
She felt like truth. And tasted the same. But even if she wasn't my new stepsister I would know there are some lines you just don't cross. There are lines that even the worst of humanity knows not to cross.
The fucking construction workers are still banging and sawing and swearing and laughing outside the door to my quarters and no amount of their noise will distract me enough to make the pain in my chest go away.
It's almost dinner time on Friday and the scent of frying fish drifts up through the kitchen vents and into my bedroom.
It used to be one of my favorite days, one of the small pleasures I had left that I would allow. She’s ruined that. No one, no drink, no whiskey will ever taste better than what I had an hour ago in the boathouse sucking her sweet flavor from my fingers.
“Father Martin?”
“What?” I bark, keeping my voice hard because I’m in no mood for unimportant parish duties.
“I'm sorry to bother you, father, but...” Nathalia always says that, but deep down she thrives on delivering sordid details of the charges that come here. “I found something in Ms. Tennant’s room while cleaning.” Sure, cleaning a.k.a. snooping. “I've confiscated it as I know you would want me to. I would like to turn it over to you. I do not want it in my possession.”
I push off from the wall by the window, my collar tightening around my throat. I changed into my black suit after dealing with the foreman.
I needed to root myself back into my position but changing clothes did nothing to spur all the wrongness in my heart.
I stomp to the door, swinging it open. There is Nathalia like the cat that caught the mouse with the purple buzzing monster wrapped half in a white towel in her hand.
“I’m sorry. These girls….” She says with that tight lipped disappointed frown she wears. “It was plugged in. She was going to…use it. Or, she has already.” She stammers, whispering the last words as my cock thickens thinking of my little dove pleasuring herself here under my roof. “I should just throw it away, I can take it to the dumpster, but I thought you should confront her with it. Have a session about the sins of the flesh.”
I’m trying to fight off that kind of session, Nathalia, I want to say. If anyone is going to use this purple people pleaser, it’s going to be me. On her. Or…
“It’s okay.” I nod to the desk to her left. “Leave it there. I’ll deal with it.”
“She was returning to her room as I left. I am sure by now she’s realized it’s gone.” Nathalia bows her head but before I can close the door, she adds, “There’s something about this student. How she looks at you. You are softer with her, is there something about her I should know? If you need me to take over more, I am here. The other teachers will not be back until after the renovations, but I chose to stay. Here with you, to help.” Her faded blue eyes shine with the true, if not misguided, loyalty she has to me and this place.