Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

ROSE

M y heart ached, filled with grief and guilt, as I sat on my bed and gave in to my tears.

I didn’t love Raul, not the way I’d convinced myself I had when we started our relationship. For me, he was a crush, a man that I shouldn’t want, a man my mother would never approve of. He was attractive, had a smile that made my knees go weak, and was the first man to look at me and truly see me.

Raul was sweet and kind. He risked not only his job but also the jobs and livelihoods and even the home of his entire family to be with me.

How did I return that sacrifice?

I fell for a man who was even more forbidden and taboo than he was. I showed Raul my love by ignoring his text messages and then letting a priest fuck me in the confessional.

When I got home that night, after an extremely long, hot shower that still didn’t make me feel clean, I realized I needed to let Raul go. We needed to have the conversation that would end our so-called relationship—such as it was—for good.

I never got the chance.

There was far too much shame and guilt in my heart for me to face him that night. I procrastinated and told myself that in the morning, I would call him and make this right. I would confess to him, and if he’d still have me, we’d make plans, and I would let him take me away from Father Manwarring forever. If he was too hurt by my betrayal and decided I wasn’t worth his love, then I would accept that, too.

Either way, I would be punished for my sins.

The truth was, I was just too much of a coward, and probably wouldn’t have called him.

Then, this morning, over breakfast, my mother gave me the news as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She laughed about how our stupid gardener had impaled himself on a pitchfork. She pressed her manicured nails to her chest, tilted her head back, and cackled with glee. Saying things like maybe it was intentional, maybe it was suicide because he knew he would never rise to anything. Or maybe he really was so stupid that he didn’t know which end of the pitchfork he should be using.

I’d always known that my mother was a vile, hateful woman, but to take such pleasure that she was almost giddy at the death of another human being was sickening. She calmed herself and gave her butler orders to send flowers to the family with condolences and whatever else was to be expected.

My heart hurt, my body ached, and the worst part was I knew it was just my guilt and not the loss of a first love.

Father Manwarring was right.

I was a sinner; I needed to repent. My soul had been tarnished, and there was no repairing it. I used Raul, and now that he was dead, I didn’t even grieve the way a woman who lost her first love should be grieving. I was saddened by his death, but not heartbroken. Mostly I was just filled with so much self-loathing, I didn’t know what to do. Raul was dead, and I was still sore from the way another man had claimed me.

There was no way I could face Father Manwarring. Not today. Not with everything… He could see through my grief to the guilt, and I just couldn’t bear it.

I called the church, spoke to the receptionist that helped run the day to day, and told her to please inform Father Manwarring that I had just learned of the death of a very close friend. Unfortunately, I could not make it in that day.

The receptionist offered her condolences for my loss and said that she would pass on the message.

I tossed my phone aside, sat on my bed, and just gave in to tears.

No one came to check on me. I knew they wouldn’t. Mother’s butler would come in at some point, with some excuse, making sure that I was behaving as a young lady should, but he hadn’t bothered yet.

What felt like hours later, when my throat was dry and scratchy and my eyes were red and burning, there was a knock at the door. It had to be a maid. I knew even they were under orders to report everything to my mother. I couldn’t explain to her why I was so upset, so I dried my eyes as best as I could, sat up straight, and tried to make myself presentable.

“Yes?” I called out, trying to think of some excuse to tell the maid if they asked why I was crying. Something that maybe she would roll her eyes at and not bother telling my mother.

The door opened, and Father Manwarring walked in.

I hated that even in my self-loathing and grief, my heart still sped up at the sight of him. It shouldn’t have. I should have been angry. I should have been blaming him for the way I felt, the way he touched me and made me disloyal to a man who deserved so much better.

“I called the church,” I said, ignoring the way my body ached for him. “The receptionist said that she’d give you the message?”

“And what message was that?”

“That I wasn’t coming in today, I had lost someone very important and?—”

“She delivered the message,” he interrupted, moving to stand directly in front of me. My eyes went straight to the crotch of his pants, and the memories of what we had done flashed through my head. I wanted to feel disgusted by it, but I just couldn’t.

“Then why are you here?” I asked, ripping my eyes from his body up to his beautiful face. It was so classically handsome, with its strong jawline and Roman nose, that it made me think of statues carved in marble that could have only been created by the hands of true masters. He was the statue David come to life, but his sun-kissed skin and beautiful eyes stole my breath away.

Didn’t the Bible say the devil was handsome?

“I am here to do my duty as your priest. I am here to guide you through your grief at such a delicate time. There is more to being a priest than celebrating mass… and taking confession,” he said, the double meaning in his words clear. A flush of heat crawled up my neck to my cheeks, and I knew he saw it. The pleasure in his eyes at my discomfort was palpable.

“Please, not today. Raul is dead. Let me grieve in peace.” I buried my head in my hands and gave in to a fresh wave of tears.

“What kind of priest would I be if I let one of my flock suffer so needlessly? I can help you. I can show you where your energy is better spent.”

“Please, no,” I said, thinking he was going to unzip his fly again and make me suck his cock. I knew if he did, if he even touched me, I wouldn’t be able to resist. The hold he had on me was too strong, and there was something darkly appealing about shutting everything else out and giving in. Letting Father Manwarring use my body to shut off my mind. He could make me forget, even if it was only for a moment. I knew that if I gave in, it would only make me feel worse afterward. “Let me grieve.”

“No,” he said simply, then moved to the armchair across the room and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Come here, little angel.”

Father Manwarring had already proven time and time again that he was not the kind of man who would hear no, and I did not have the energy or the will to fight him. So I stood, brushing my hands down my chiffon dress and kicking myself for not at least changing into something black and more appropriate.

I stood in front of Father Manwarring, my hands folded in front of me and my head down to prevent the tears streaming down my face from being so unbelievably obvious.

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor by his feet, and I obeyed. Knelt down at his feet, let him place his hand on the back of my head and guide it until it was resting on his lap.

I had thought for sure he was going to do something else inappropriate, and strictly speaking, I didn’t think my kneeling on the floor resting my head on his lap was appropriate, but… it wasn’t sexual at least.

He propped his phone up in front of my face, making sure I could see the screen, and pressed Play.

Raul was on the screen, his eyes bloodshot as he looked around. He didn’t seem right. His movements were sluggish, and his hair was spiky instead of in the soft waves he usually kept it in.

“What is this?”

“Shh, angel,” he said, running his hand over my hair as if I were a kitten. It was soothing, and I let myself find comfort in it. “Just watch.”

Off camera, there was another voice, one I would recognize anywhere. Father Manwarring was asking him questions that made little sense. Then Raul, my sweet Raul, broke my heart.

Of course, I knew there was always a possibility that our relationship had started with a lie because Raul wanted access to my family’s money. Everyone in my social circle knew well that our wealth made us targets for con men and grifters.

When we first met, I thought maybe that was the case with Raul and he was humoring my crush because of my family’s money, but then I thought we had more. I thought he loved me, not because of my money, but despite it.

Even the way he spoke on the video was so different from the man I knew.

When he admitted his plans, about leaving me if my mother paid him, or worse if she didn’t and forcing me to pay him alimony after he knocked me up then stole my child, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe any of it.

Then he admitted to having sex with my mother. My stomach lurched, and I was grateful I skipped most of breakfast. Not only had he lied to me, used me, never loved me and actually plotted against me, but he had been with my mother.

Raul had listened to me whine and complain so many times about her control and the way she treated me and all the while he was getting paid to sleep with her.

“Turn it off,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay, you’ve seen enough.” Father Manwarring tapped the phone with his thumb and then put it away.

“When was this taken?”

Something wasn’t quite making sense in the back of my head. There was a connection my brain wanted to make but just couldn’t accept.

“Last night, before the poor man died.”

“Did you—” I couldn’t finish the words.

“No, angel,” he said, still petting my hair. “I may not act as all priests do, but I did not take that man’s life.”

I nodded, not sure I believed him.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, pulling me to my feet.

“Understand?”

“Do you understand that little asshole was not worthy of your time when he was alive? He was not worthy of your affection then, and he is not worthy of your grief now.” He wiped away the tears streaming down my face with his thumb in a surprisingly sweet gesture.

For just a second, barely enough time to blink, I forgot what this man really was. I took comfort in his touch, solace in his kindness.

“Do you understand?” He leaned close to me, his voice barely above a whisper. “That I own your body. Your pleasure belongs to me, and I am the only man who will ever get to touch you.”

Just like that, he broke the spell I was falling under. He reminded me of exactly whose arms I was in.

“I understand, Father,” I said obediently, casting my eyes to the floor.

“Prove it,” he growled, his kindness shifting into anger so quickly I could barely keep up. “Go lock the door and take off that dress.”

“But—”

“Do as I say. You know what will happen if you don’t,” he warned.

He would tell my mother, and then there was no telling what she would do.

At least I knew where I stood here. Father Manwarring may use me, corrupt me, but he wasn’t lying to me. He wasn’t pretending to love me. I knew exactly what this was. There was something coldly comforting about that.

I stood and locked the door. If the butler tried to come in, he wouldn’t be able to and as long as we weren’t too loud, I could tell my mother the door was locked for confession.

The dress I put on this morning was made of a soft wool blend, and when I lifted it over my head, tossing it on a dresser, I shivered in the cold air of the room.

“What now?” I asked, not knowing what he was expecting of me this time.

“Now, I want you to tell me who you belong to.”

“I belong to you,” I said, my voice coming out monotone.

“See, I don’t think you believe that.” He stood, grabbing his phone again. “I think you need to be reminded that I know what is best for you.”

He stood in front of me and tipped my head up so I was looking into his beautiful eyes.

“I am a —”

“I know exactly what you are, angel,” he said, talking over me. “I know you were silly and tried to rebel. Just like many, many women before you, you were taken in by a con man. It’s not your fault, but I think you have proven that you are not ready to make these kinds of decisions on your own.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to remind him I was a grown woman, but he placed his thumb on my lips, pushing it inside my mouth, and my body responded to his touch, his attention, in ways I couldn’t control.

“Hush now, be my good angel. Atone for your sins, but once this is over, you will never think of him again. Do you understand?”

Could he do that? Could he take away the pain and the guilt that I was still feeling over Raul’s death?

He removed his thumb from my mouth, replacing it with his lips, and I melted into his kiss. Desperate for him to take away my pain.

His teeth sank into my lower lip, and I groaned at the sting, shocks of electricity spreading through my body. I could feel my nipples tightening against my cotton bra, and my panties getting wet.

The way my body responded to Father Manwarring only further proved the point that I’d never loved Raul. If I’d loved him, if there was real chemistry or a connection between us, I wouldn’t have felt half of the things I did from a single kiss from Father Manwarring.

With his hands on my hips, he pushed me back toward my bed, stopping just as the backs of my thighs brushed against my duvet cover.

“Turn around,” he growled. “I want your hands flat on the bed.”

I didn’t think, I didn’t argue, or even consider not obeying. Instead, I turned my brain off and just did what he said. Finding some solace in not having to make choices and not having to fight for what I wanted.

All of those decisions, all the arguments. I trusted all of it with him, knowing that he was about to show me something else about myself that I didn’t know before.

He put his phone on the mattress right in front of my face and started the video again.

“Do not move, do not make a sound,” he demanded.

I stared at Raul’s face, the sweet man I knew nowhere to be seen. I watched over and over as he said he didn’t love me, that it was a scam. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse on his face.

“Watch him, angel. Feel the pain he is causing you, feel the hurt and the betrayal,” Father Manwarring said as he ran his hands down my back, his fingers barely skimming across it. He unhooked my bra, but left it still attached to my arms and resting on the bed.

Then I felt his lips at the base of my neck. He slowly moved down my back, leaving a trail of soft kisses down my spine. It felt so good. Shivers and sparks darted over the sensitive skin, a little bloom of warmth left every place his lips touched.

While he kissed my back, his hands went to my breasts, massaging gently, not pinching this time. His hands were so warm against my cool skin, I closed my eyes for a moment to revel in the feel of his attention.

“Open your eyes, angel,” he said. “Watch.”

When I looked up, I saw the mirror on the vanity across the room. He could see my face clearly, but more importantly, so could I. I didn’t look like myself, with my perfect makeup and styled hair. My hair was a mess and my eyes were wide and brighter than they had ever been, still red from the tears, and my lips were darker and plumper. My breasts hung down under me, supported by only his hands.

I enjoyed seeing his hands on my body. I looked like a woman who knew what she wanted, who knew how to feel pleasure without guilt.

I wanted to be her, the woman I saw in the mirror. How did I make myself accept her and feel like her?

“Watch the video,” he growled in my ear as he gave my breasts a warning squeeze.

Immediately, I turned my attention back to the screen and watched. Father Manwarring continued kissing down my spine as he slid my panties from my hips, exposing every part of me to the cold air.

“If this wasn’t a punishment, then I would feast on your cunt, letting you come over and over on my tongue. But you must learn what happens when you give yourself to someone else.”

I said nothing as he slid two fingers inside of me. I wanted to look up into the mirror and watch him, but I knew he wanted me to keep my eyes on the phone.

The video played over and over while he toyed with me. He would let the pleasure build up in my body almost to the point of orgasm and then stop. He rubbed my clit in tight little circles until my thighs were shaking and then pressed his fingers inside me. The pleasure was intense but different enough that it took me away from the edge.

After denying me the fourth, or maybe it was the fifth time, he pressed his thumb to my puckered hole and my entire body stiffened. He placed one hand on my shoulder to hold me in place as he pushed his thumb inside me. It burned.

“If you relax, this won’t hurt as much,” he said, while he pushed it in a little further.

I couldn’t hold in the gasp of pain mixed with some darker, more forbidden pleasure.

“I told you, your entire body is mine. I intend on using all of it to my full advantage,” he said as he pulled his thumb out and pressed it back in. He repeated it a few times. Each time, it hurt less and felt a little better. I wanted to give myself to the darker pleasure, but something was holding me back.

“Eyes on that video, angel,” he warned.

I hadn’t even realized that my eyes had slid closed. Immediately, I opened them and refocused on the video. Watching Raul admit everything again hurt less than the first time. Like watching it over and over was numbing me to it. The more I saw his smug, arrogant face, the less pain I felt and the more anger. How dare he lie to me? How dare he try to trap me in a marriage where I could never feel the things that I felt when Father Manwarring touched me?

Raul was going to let me live my entire life not knowing all the things that I should have felt with a lover. Maybe that was my penance, maybe I had to see the truth over and over, work my way through the pain to the anger.

“Tell me what is in your heart, right now, angel.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

He pushed his thumb into my ass further and started rubbing my clit with his other fingers. “If you want to come, you will answer me. What do you feel when you see his face?”

“Anger,” I admitted.

“Why anger?”

My first instinct was to lie, but I knew he would know.

“Because he never made me feel the way you do. I was going to give my life to a man who was going to let me live not knowing that I could feel so…”

“So what?” he asked after I trailed off.

“Desired, owned, and—” I couldn’t think of the last word as his fingers moved over my clit faster.

“And what?”

“I am angry he never showed me how good sex can be, how good it feels to submit, to get on my knees and worship your cock, or have you take me.” The words spilled from my lips and I did not know what I was going to say until the words had been spoken.

“Good girl,” he purred. He kept his thumb inside of my ass as he pushed his cock into my pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” I said with a gasp.

“Not a sound unless directed,” he reminded me, and I nodded. He pushed into me hard and fast, over and over. His thumb making the fit even tighter than before.

I needed more. I lowered my chest to the bed, lifting my hips up to let him take me deeper. Then he guided one of my thighs up, so my knee was bent on the bed. He pushed deeper, and my entire body came to life with pleasure, and just a hint of pain that gave the pleasure an edge.

“Good girl,” he growled. I was so close. I was about to come when he stopped.

I could feel him coming, and I knew he intentionally denied me satisfaction, and more angry tears burned behind my eyes.

When he stepped away from me, I stood and turned. He grabbed me and kissed me hard. I thought maybe he was going to do something else. He was going to give me some satisfaction.

Instead, he reached around me and took his phone, putting it in his pocket.

“Where are you going?” I asked, feeling vulnerable, a little hurt, and very frustrated.

“I told you this was a punishment.” He shrugged. “Be at the church tomorrow. Maybe then, if you are good, you will be rewarded.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I will just have to come back, and I am sure your mommy will start asking questions.”