Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story) (4 page)

As I came, I felt him shudder and he let
out a moan that sounded like pure bliss before his entire body began to shiver
and shake. He shoved his cock forward and held it inside of me as deep as he
could get. He came and came and came.

Still trembling, he collapsed down next to
me. I still had my arms around him and I let him lay on one of them,
practically crushing it, just because I didn’t want to feel that empty feeling
I’d felt before ever again.

******

I woke up with the light from the early
morning sun streaming in the window into my eyes. I kept them shut tightly and
tried to fight my way out of the sheets I seemed to be tangled up in. I was so
dehydrated that I could barely open my lips. My tongue was plastered to the
roof of my mouth and my throat felt like sandpaper.

Damn
it!
That’ll teach me to order pretty, fruity drinks. My head gave a throb at the
thought of it and I started to roll over. I realized that I couldn’t. There was
something big and hard blocking my path. What the hell?

I slowly pulled one eye open. As soon as I
did, before I even processed my surroundings, I remembered. I had sex…with a
stranger.
Oh no, I’m still in his house! Damn
it!

I turned my head to the side then and saw
him there. I wasn’t tangled in sheets. My naked body was tangled up with his.
Even anxious and sick to my stomach at what I’d done, my breath caught in my
throat at the gorgeous sight of him.

I blinked a few times as the thoughts
began to take shape and accelerate inside of my head. I tried taking a few
slow, deep breaths so that they would slow down. I couldn’t follow them when
they raced around like that. I had to concentrate on breathing in and breathing
out because I felt like something, or someone, was sitting on my chest or
holding me under water.

My heart hammered relentlessly against the
inside of my chest. I had sex with a stranger in his apartment. I had committed
a grievous sin and now, as he slept next to me the morning after, I realized
that it was even worse than I’d thought. I’d spent the entire night having hot,
passionate sex with him and I’d never even asked him his name.
Oh, God! Forgive me! I have to get out of here
before he wakes up. What have I done?

CHAPTER
SIX

JACE

My new church confessional was an old
fashioned one that still had a booth for the priest and one for the
parishioner. The church I was at in Boston had been a lot more progressive.
During confession, there I sat in the confession “room” in a chair across from
the congregate that was confessing. It was one-on-one still, but there was no
hiding. Since you can’t hide from God, I felt that was as it should be.

This was my first real day of work in
Lexington, though, so I would do it their way for a while. After Father Byrne
moved on to his new post in New York, it would be my church and I could change
things as I saw fit.

As I dressed and readied myself to hear
confession, the words my mentor in the seminary used to read to us from the
guide to hearing confession came rushing back to me. I heard his voice reciting
it word for word as if he were in the room with me, staring me down with
accusing eyes, judging me.

“
But
if he himself be ignorant, a profligate, and a lover of pleasure, how can he
teach virtue unto others? And who would be so unwise as to hearken unto him
concerning that which he (that is, the penitent) has to say, seeing him a
disorderly person and a drunkard, and teaching others not to be intemperate, or
to follow any virtue whatever, while he himself is unable to do this? For eyes
are more believing than ears, says the divine Scripture. Therefore, take heed
unto thyself, O Confessor, for if one sheep be lost through thy negligence, it
shall be required at thy hands. ‘For cursed,’ says the Scripture, ‘is he that
does the work of the Lord negligently.’ (Jer. 48:10)”

I shuddered and tried to push that memory
down as I donned my sacred robes and lit the candles on either side of the
confessional. Then, kissing the crucifix around my neck, I said the prayer
reserved for priests who are about to hear confession:
“Grant to me, O Lord, that wisdom which stands beside Thy throne, that
I may know how to judge Thy people with justice, and Thy poor ones with equity…”

I could taste the residue of scotch still
coating my throat, and the prayer that usually gave me peace, instead caused
the bile to rumble up and compete with the alcohol for my notice. I closed my
eyes and refocused my mind on my faith and my love of God and I started over.

When I finished, I flipped on the green
light and took my seat in the chair. Sister Adeline had left a pot of tea for
me next to the chair. I poured a cup and held it to my face, letting the steam
seep into my skin.

It was probably my imagination, but I
thought I could smell the alcohol seeping from my pores and filling the room.
My stomach had just begun to lurch as the first parishioner arrived. It was
time to tuck my sins away to later be judged by my Father and get to work.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

DAPHNE

“Daphne, table six is asking for more
coffee.”

“Oh shoot! I told them I’d be back ten
minutes ago!” I grabbed the freshly made pot and felt Bethany’s eyes boring in
to me as I rushed over to refill their cups. She was standing in the same spot
when I got back.

“What’s going on with you?”

I feigned an innocent look. “Nothing. Why
do you ask?”

“You’ve been distracted all day.”

“Oh, well, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Daphne!” My boss Ken was cooking because
our second cook hadn’t shown up. He wasn’t in a good mood about it, either.

“Yes?”

“The eggs are congealing! If you wouldn’t
mind taking them out and picking your personal conversation back up later, that
would be great.”

“I’m sorry, Ken, of course.” Bethany
rolled her eyes. She’d been working here for over two years and Ken didn't
scare her any longer. This job was my only lifeline at the moment. He scared me
to death.

I started to reach for one of the plates
and Bethany grabbed my arm from behind. Annoyed, I looked back and saw her
holding out the plate holder we use after they’d been sitting underneath the
lights. Without it, I would have burned the skin off my hand. “Thank you,” I
mouthed, gratefully.

She smiled at me and then in a whisper
said, “Break in fifteen minutes. Be ready to spill.”

I smiled back, nervously. There was no way
I was going to tell her what I’d done. I could barely stand that I knew. I took
out the orders and refilled a few more drinks before it was time for our break.
I took my ice water and followed Bethany out the back door of the restaurant.

As soon as we were clear of the building,
she lit a smoke and said, “Come on, Daphne. I’ve known you a long time. I know
something is wrong.”

Bethany was my oldest…my only friend. She
was the only one I ever told about my drunken father and the house of horrors
I’d grown up in. She loved me and I loved her. She made me feel safe and kept
my confidences. She didn’t judge, but there was still no way I was telling her
about this.

It was between me, God, and whatever name green
eyes goes by. I was having a hard enough time with that. I couldn't bring
myself to let anyone else in on the sins I’d committed.

“It’s just a personal issue, Beth. I’d
rather not talk about it, okay? Maybe some other time I’ll be ready…but not
now.”

Bless Bethany; she always knew when to
push and when to back off. Now, she knew I needed her to back off.

“Sure, honey; but remember I’m always here
if you need me.”

I smiled at her. “I know you are, and I am
so grateful. I’m blessed to have you in my life, Bethany.” She laughed.

“You are the only person who puts ‘Bethany’
and ‘Blessed’ in the same sentence ever. You’re so good and pure… I’m not sure
why you hang out with a sinner like me sometimes.”

If she only knew. I got drunk and had sex
with a stranger… If we’re tallying sins, I’d bet at least this week I had her
beat.

“You’re a saint, Bethany. I don’t know
where I would be without you.”

She smiled and winked at me as she stubbed
out her smoke. “You wouldn’t have all this,” she said, gesturing at the
backside of the old diner. “That’s for sure.” We giggled and headed in.

Tomorrow was my day off. I couldn’t wait
to get to the church and into confession. Maybe then I could feel like I was
okay again with the Lord. Maybe once I’d done my penance and I was forgiven, I could
move past this phase in my life, and never have to look back.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

JACE

It was Friday and my first week of being
the new priest was complete. I had given up the alcohol after that Tuesday
night. It took my body three days to get it all out of my system, I think. I’d
never been a drinker, even before I became a priest. I intensely disliked what
it did to my body and my mind. But I had been hitting it so hard that when I
quit, that in itself was an ordeal.

I’d been on my knees during most of my
free time that week, praying for forgiveness and looking for guidance. I was in
shock and disbelief at my own actions.

I’m not even sure what I would have done
or said if I’d woken up with that beautiful woman lying next to me on Wednesday
morning. At least there was one thing to be thankful for, and that was that
she’d snuck out before I had to face her.

I had to struggle with the memories,
though. I know I was supposed to be feeling remorse and regret, and I was—kind
of. But if truth be told, and I hope no one ever gets that out of me, not a
minute had gone by in the past week when she wasn’t on my mind.

The fact is, I was still thinking about
her and lusting after the memories and the images of her in my mind made it
harder to face myself and to be accountable to the Lord for what I’d done. I
committed a mortal sin, and although I knew that God forgives us our sins, I
still agonized over the fact that I allowed it to happen.

I’d like to blame it on the alcohol and
the beautiful woman, but I should have known better on both counts. If a priest
can’t be counted on to resist temptation, how can he be counted on to counsel
and lead his flock? Besides, I must not have been too drunk; I could remember
every sensuous detail.

I got up Wednesday morning and went on
with my life. Each time she would sneak into my conscious memories, I would stamp
them down and move on. It was only at night that she completely took over the
space in my head and caused my body to do things that were very un-priest-like.

As I sat in the confessional, all of those
thoughts ran through my head. I did my best to give the task my undivided
attention when someone was in the booth, but the second they left, my thoughts were
overtaken once more.

I heard the door on the other side of me
open and shut, and then I heard the voice of what sounded like an older woman
say, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been several weeks since my
last confession. During that time, I’ve taken the name of the Lord in vain
several times…almost always directed at my husband, Father. He gets me so angry
sometimes… I’m sorry, I’m digressing,” she giggled nervously.

Confession makes even the astute Catholic
nervous, even us priest’s sometimes, especially after a week like the one I
had. Shamelessly, I was still putting mine off.

The lady went on to tell me a few more
things that she had done, like yelling at the dog or the kids. None of her sins
were mortal ones and most of them barely qualified as venial. We said the Act
of Contrition together and I gave her the penance and she was on her way.

I waited fifteen long minutes for the next
confession. I say long minutes because every moment that I was alone, my mind
wanted to dwell on my sins. I alternated between thinking of them as sins one
time and treating them as a sweet, delicious memory the next.
I’m a terrible priest.

I had just finished that thought when I
heard the door open and close on the other side. After a few seconds, a young
woman’s voice said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two
months since my last confession.”

The voice was distinct and familiar, and
because I hadn’t stopped thinking about that night all week, I recognized it
immediately. My stomach clenched and I suddenly, couldn’t catch my breath.

CHAPTER
NINE

DAPHNE

Friday morning, I got up and went to
confession before work. I was secretly and guiltily happy that the confessions
at this church were held in the old confessionals, where I didn’t have to face
the priest. I was in no way perfect, but at my old church where you sat face to
face with the priest, I’d never had to confess anything I was this ashamed of.

I know that if I’m going to confess my
sins, I should be able to face up to them. But, since I didn’t choose this
particular route, I left that much in the hands of God. There was a little sign
up that said,
“Father Jace will be
hearing confession today.”

Father Jace must be the new parish priest.
I’d always liked that name. I used to think if I ever had a son, I’d like to
name him Jace. Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe God is trying to let me know
that although I have sinned, my life will go on. I went into the little wooden
closet and when I heard the priest pull open his little window I said,

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It
has been two months since my last confession.” I thought I heard him take in a
deep breath, and I found that strange. I hoped he was okay. He didn’t say
anything, so I went on, “In that time, I have committed multiple sins that I’m
sorry for, Father. I drank in excess one night, I used foul language, and I had
sexual relations with a man whom I am not married to. For these, and all the
sins of my past life, especially for my sins of lust, I am truly sorry.”

He still didn’t say anything. I could hear
him breathing. It felt like a hesitation to me, and of course, I took it
personally, thinking he must be so appalled that he was having a hard time
speaking. I wanted to think that he’d heard a lot worse than my paltry sins,
but my imagination was working overtime and I pictured him calling me all sorts
of things in his head. God was probably going to strike me down just for having
those thoughts in church.

I waited, not so patiently, and worried some
more as I waited for him to respond. When he did, things only got worse. As
soon as I heard the sound of his voice, chills ran from the top of my spine,
down my back and across both of my arms.
Why
was that voice so familiar?
I’d heard it recently and something about it made
me feel so strange. I listened carefully as he spoke in a slightly shaky voice
and I finally remembered where I’d heard that voice before.

It belonged to him—the gorgeous man I’d
given my virginity to.

No
way; it can’t be him. This is a priest!
I let that settle for a
moment and then he said something really strange that got my suspicions aroused
again. Before we prayed he said, “Does anyone else know about
your…indiscretion?”

What an odd question. Why would that
matter? A sin was still a sin, whether you told anyone about it or not.

“No, Father, I am too ashamed to tell
anyone else. Besides, I believe that it’s between God and me at this point.”

He hesitated again. This was the oddest
confession I’d ever had. Finally, I heard him take a deep breath and imagined
him having more questions. He didn’t ask any, however. Instead, he said,

“Bless you. Please go and say three Hail
Mary’s and two Our Father’s and sin no more.” I wondered now if the shakiness
in his voice was because he recognized my voice, as well.

He began to recite the Act of Contrition,
and although I knew this drill very well, it took me a few seconds to jump in
because I was still freaked out and trying to figure out what I should do.

I remembered back to the night I met the
man in the bar. I had thought about how much I liked his voice. It was soft and
gentle, but still masculine…like silk, almost. Just like this man’s voice—my
new priest. I assured myself that the man I had sex with was not a priest and
jumped in at, “I detest all of my sins because they offend thee…”

Even as I prayed, it was suddenly
impossible to get the image of the gorgeous man that the voice had drummed up
out of my head. I knelt at the altar and offered my penance, the entire time
almost hoping the priest would step out of his side of the booth so that I
could see his face. There was no way, no way at all…that would just be way too
much for God to expect me to bear.

I finished my prayers and said one more,
“Dear God in heaven, please let me be horribly mistaken about Father Jace.”

I left with my soul feeling somewhat
lighter. Church always did that for me, no matter what the situation. But, I
didn’t feel quite as light as I normally did after I confessed my sins.
Something was different about it this time. I don’t know if it’s my own
paranoia and concerns about his voice sounding so familiar or if this priest
just wasn’t as warm and comforting as the ones I’ve known in the past.

This one seemed to be more concerned with
whether or not I had told anyone than anything else…and that was just odd.