The Priest – Steamy Shorts Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
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“I’d like to have a word with you and God,” I say, walking slowly, swaying my hips, doing everything I’ve seen in the movies to make myself appear sexier. “Are you free for a confession?”

I can feel his eyes burning into me. He does his best to keep them on mine, but I can see them wandering downward to the unbuttoned top of my blouse. The fabric in his crotch shifts and a hard gulp makes his Adam’s apple bob nervously.

Hook, line, and sinker.

I’ve got him.

“It’s been a long time since my last, and I have a lot weighing on my mind,” I add, but the gawking doesn’t break. His hands slide under his vestments, and I watch them dance under the material until the bobbing in his crotch comes to a halt.

“Of course,” Father Murphy’s voice cracks. He clears it before continuing, “Right this way.”

We walk together, a few feet apart. With every step, I feel my cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. I shouldn’t do what I’m about to, but what choice do I have now? I’ve put myself and Father Murphy in this situation. I’m not going to back down.

Not while he’s biting into the forbidden apple from the palm of my hand.

3

REED

For such a smart man, I sure am pretty stupid a lot of the time. I’m playing dangerous games with forces far stronger than I care to imagine. Not God, mind you, but mafiosos and cops, all gunning for my head. Somehow, even with those real, tangible threats hanging over me, I’m acting as a vessel and messenger for a higher power who hasn’t done much in the way of helping me over the years.

Still, it’s gotten me closer to her. We’re so close together, separated by only a bronze letterbox opening and a thin sheet of grated plywood. She’s sitting on a flimsy wooden stool, her head pointed straight ahead and her eyes shut tight. Her breathing’s shaky, nervousness making her lower lip quiver, and I can tell whatever she’s about to say is meant for someone who’ll know how to help her.

A real priest with actual intent to rectify her sins. Not me, the lousy piece of shit preying on this town to get a shot at the sexy blonde.

“Before we begin, you know I’m new here, and I’d like to ingrain myself within the community as best I can. May I ask your name?” Yeah, that sounds good. A smooth way of asking for something so simple without sounding like a damned creep.

Even though that ship had sailed, I saw the way she looked at me while I fumbled to hide the erection bouncing against the thin material of my black cloak.

“Valerie,” she says.

“It’s nice to meet you, Valerie. Please continue.” I keep my voice calm against my mind and body’s racing.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Christ. Sorry, big man, I shouldn't be using your name in vain when I’m sitting in your house, but I’m sure you understand why those words make me go a little wild with the woman sitting next to me.

“Tell me, what have you done?” Those words feel pathetic, leaving my lips.

“I’ve engaged in the act of…” Her pause makes my heart quicken. What vile thing have you done to have to sit opposite me and ask God for forgiveness? She resonates purity, and I can’t imagine what she’s about to say holds a candle against the thunderstorm of bullshit I’ve done. “Lust.”

A choked cough fights its way out of my throat. Lust?

“Have you acted on them?” Now we’re getting somewhere.

“No, Father Murphy. They are acts of the mind.” Valerie speaks with confidence, as if what she’s confessing isn’t a point of shame but of pride instead.

I peer through the grated divider between us and see her there. Her hands meander across her body, fingers dancing over the silky fabric of her Sunday best.

“Dark, dirty thoughts. Being ravaged, taken, broken, and used,” she continues.

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I can’t keep my thoughts straight when I look at her. How will I hold a conversation when she’s telling me the deepest, darkest desires burning in her mind?

“And who have these thoughts been about?” I ask. It seems like the correct response, only because I’m desperate to hear her answer. To see her plump lips mouth my name.

Valerie turns her body in my direction, scooching downward on her stool until she’s almost lying down. One of her hands stops on her breast, cupping the full mound and giving it a squeeze. The other glides down her belly, slipping between her thighs. The back of her wrist parts the fabric, hiding a thin pair of dark blue, sheer panties. The see-through fabric doesn’t do a thing to hide her bald cunt.

“You,” she whispers. “Filthy, vile thoughts of you. From the moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to strike them from my mind.”


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