Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

ROSE

A s my parents and I walked into the church for mass, I immediately noticed the difference.

We were being stared at.

This was worse than when Luc interrupted Amelia’s wedding to Marksen, worse than when Harrison admitted publicly that he was illegitimate, and even worse than when Harrison told his ex-fiancée that he didn’t want to marry her and was instead going to marry his paralegal.

The Sunday after that debacle, it felt like the entire world was staring daggers at us as we walked into church. This was so much worse. People weren’t just staring; they were whispering and pointing. There were so many of them they didn’t even bother hiding their faces when they looked at my family.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew it had something to do with Father Manwarring.

It started the day I told him about the safe deposit box. First, Mother was screaming, livid that she had been dismissed from every single charitable board she served on—all of them. Her entire social circle turned their backs on her. She was even asked not to attend the gala, her cronies coming up with an excuse about how she should take time to reflect on her actions.

She came after me for that.

Somehow, she got it in her head that I had said something to the wrong person, that I had told someone that the scratches on my face and the bruise on my hand were from her and not just because of my clumsiness.

I told her I didn’t. I told her I would tell no one, and if I did, no one would believe me anyway.

She didn’t hear me. Instead, she kept screaming. She threw a few things at me, but she didn’t dare hit me. Dad was home, which meant that if she struck me and he saw it, he would be forced to act. Mother was always very careful to make sure that the only people who witnessed the violence against her children were people who couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Still, she ranted and raved, claiming that I had clearly brought shame upon the family. That I was just as much of a disappointment as my siblings, and that I would regret whatever I had done.

Her threats were short-lived.

That afternoon, she had gone to the bank for items in her safe deposit box. When she got home, her hair was wild, her face showing more emotion than I thought was physically possible given the Botox injections that she’d had over the years. She was enraged—screaming and ranting that whoever had stolen from her, whoever had emptied her safe deposit box, was a dead man.

Wanting to avoid her war path, I locked myself in my room and stayed there. I considered for a moment calling Father Manwarring, telling him that Mother had lost her mind, and I needed somewhere safe to hide out so she couldn’t hurt me again.

Then I remembered I told him about the safe deposit box.

It had to have been him.

The timing was too coincidental. That made me think about Raul again. He died the day after I told Father Manwarring about him. He questioned Raul the very night he died.

At first, I thought maybe Father Manwarring killed him, but I completely disregarded that option. Sure that it was sacrilege to think such things of a man of the cloth. I assumed maybe Raul realized I was going to learn his secrets, or he thought maybe I would tell about him and my mother, so he committed suicide.

Tragic, but not murder.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

I needed to know.

We had a bit of time before mass started, and Mother was unsuccessfully trying to talk to people and getting mostly cold shoulders while Dad was happily chatting with some of his business associates, having absolutely no idea anything was going on. Mother kept shooting me dirty looks, still convinced that whatever had happened was all my fault. I needed to know if it was or not.

I needed answers.

Father Manwarring was standing off to the side speaking to a few members of the congregation, so I walked over to him, stopping just far enough away to keep a respectful distance, but close enough that he knew I was waiting for him.

It only took him a moment to make his excuses and come over to me.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

“Did she hit you again?”

“No, but I would like to talk to you in private, if I may?”

“Of course.” He kept his tone professional and polite, and then made small talk as he led me to a small room in the back of the church. It was a walk-in storage closet really, but for what we needed to speak about it was perfect.

“How could you?” I asked.

“How could I what?” He crossed his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow at me. I hated when he looked at me like that. It somehow made his eyes brighter, causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

Fuck the butterflies. I needed answers.

“You are a priest. How could you do that? How could you lie, steal, and kill?”

“What lies am I telling? What have I stolen? And who did I kill?”

“I know you stole from my mother’s safe deposit box. No one else knew about it. I can’t believe it’s a coincidence that I tell you about it and suddenly it’s emptied. And what about Raul? I know you killed him.”

He smirked. He actually smirked at me; he wasn’t denying it.

“Okay, so that covers what you think I stole, and who I supposedly killed. What lies do you think I have told?”

“Whatever you said that got Mother kicked off of every single board she served on.” I threw my hands up in annoyance, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I did not tell a single lie. I merely suggested that she was not fit to lead the community, and the board members took it from there. Your mother might just be the most hated woman in all of New York City, if not the state. She has scratched and climbed her way to the top, and do you know what they don’t tell you about being at the top?”

“The only place to go is down?” I asked, confused, because everybody said that.

“No, the ones who fall are the ones who stepped on the wrong people to get to where they are. Your mother has stepped on many people. She continued to stomp on people even after she already reached the highest peak. For her, it’s a sport. So when the opportunity arose for people to take her down, I barely had to make a suggestion. I said I was worried that she had little regard for life because she laughed at the death of the gardener’s son.”

“How did you know she laughed?”

“I didn’t until now. I supposed that was my lie. But you just confirmed that it was true, so not a lie. It doesn’t matter. What matters is I merely had to suggest that she had strayed from the path of righteousness, and the pack of hyenas that your mother associates with jumped at the opportunity to tear her down. The mess she is in is one of her own making.”

“Straying from the path of righteousness is hilarious, coming from a priest who murders people and steals from others.”

“You forgot fucks. I am a priest who lies, steals, kills, and fucks naughty little angels who forget their place,” he said, looking me up and down.

I stepped back, hitting the shelves behind me and making a brass jar of oil shake.

Father Manwarring reached up to steady the jar and boxed in my body at the same time.

“That is a beautiful white dress,” he purred, leaning close to my ear. God, he smelled so good, and just having him this close to me brought every nerve in my body to life. “You know, white signifies purity, virginity, and innocence. Who’s lying now?”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back as he kissed me. His hands were rough as they moved down my body, cupping my breasts through my dress and then lifting the hem to my waist.

His hand slammed down on my ass, making me gasp into his mouth. He deepened the kiss as his fingers dug into my backside and he pressed his body against mine. His hard cock pressed against my stomach. My body instantly responded.

“You think just because I’ve given you a little attention you can talk back to me?” he said, one hand gripping my ass while the other reached up for a jar of the holy chrism oil and dipped two of his fingers inside.

“I—”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” he growled, as he took those two fingers and pressed them against my asshole, circling it at first, coaxing out that dark pleasure.

I gripped the shelf behind me, needing something to steady me as he continued to play with me.

“You want this?” he asked against my ear as he slid the first finger in. It felt good, different from when he slid a finger inside of my pussy, and so much better than when he did it before, but I thought I liked it.

“No,” I said, closing my eyes. “It’s a sin.”

“That’s why you like it.” He pushed the second finger in beside it, stretching me in a way that hurt and was unfamiliar, but still I didn’t want him to stop. “You pretend to be this sweet little good girl. That always does what she’s told. But I see the truth. You like this. I bet your cunt is dripping for me. That’s why you wanted to confront me.”

“No, I?—”

“You want to be fucked hard, punished sexually. You want me to bend you over and use you in a way that only I’m allowed to. I can see the denial on your lips, but do not let another lie past them. The truth is obvious to see. Why else would you be so determined to tempt me? Your body practically begs for my cock every time I see you. You can pretend to be a good girl all you like, but I see the truth.”

He kissed me again, this time dragging his teeth over my bottom lip and pushing my body tighter against his. I melted into his kiss, letting him take control like I always did. A voice in the back of my head said I shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, and I needed to stop him. That voice was drowned out by the need I felt every time he was around, every time he touched me, and every time he claimed me.

His hands were rough on my hips as he gripped them and then turned me around and had me grasp the shelves that were built into the wall.

“Do not make a single sound,” he growled. “This room is not soundproof, and absolutely everyone in the entire congregation will hear you cry out. Unless you want them walking in here and watching me sodomize you, I suggest your pretty little mouth stays shut. Be good for me, and I will reward you. Be bad and, well… everyone will know you tempted a priest from his calling.”

He pushed my dress up, so it was halfway up my back, then he placed his hand on my spine, pushing down so I arched my hips up for him. The oil he poured between my ass cheeks was warm and felt slippery and so very wrong.

He slipped both of his fingers back inside me, his other hand moving down and pressing a single finger against my clit. It was enough pressure to give me pleasure but not enough to drown out the sting and the burn of what he was doing.

“Relax,” he commanded, and my body obeyed.

I couldn’t see what was happening, which made every nerve I had come to life in anticipation of what he was going to do. Would he spank me again first? Would he play with my clit more, bringing me to the edge of pleasure and holding me there, or worse?

Silently, I held still. Aching for him to touch me, I let him massage that oil into my puckered hole and just closed my eyes and waited. I could hear people outside, not distinct enough to understand any conversations or even pick out individual voices. But I knew they were there. I knew they could hear me if I wasn’t quiet.

The sound of his zipper made my skin tighten, knowing what was coming. He slipped his cock into my slit, first rubbing the head against my clit and giving me the most delicious pleasure before moving up toward my opening. I shifted my hips so his cock notched there, and I pressed back just a little, wanting him to fuck me.

He let out a low, dark chuckle as he put his hand back on the base of my spine.

“You could have had that, had you asked to speak to me and then dropped to your knees to worship me like you should have. That is only for good girls, not for bad little girls who come in here with accusations.” He lifted his cock up and notched it against my ass.

I struggled against him. His fingers burned, so I couldn’t imagine what his thick cock would do, even with the aid of the viscous holy oil.

“Quiet, we wouldn’t want Mommy to walk in here, would we? This door doesn’t lock.”

I bit into my lower lip as he pushed inside me an inch at a time. The pain was blinding at first. Biting my lip would not be enough and instead, I sank my teeth into my forearm. Needing to muffle my cry.

He pushed in, slowly. Inch by inch. Initially the pain got worse, but as he ran his oil-covered hand up and down my spine under my dress, petting me, coaxing me to relax, it hurt less. Slowly, the pain and the discomfort turned into something else. It wasn’t the same as when he fucked me before. This was different. This was not better, but it felt like more.

“Fuck, angel,” he whispered, lost in the sensation as he slowly moved in and out of me.

His pleasure called to me. I made him lose himself. My body made him moan. I made him feel good. A warmth spread in my chest, and I was pretty sure it was pride. Whether the feeling was warranted, I didn’t care.

If he was going to be lost in something, I wanted him to be lost in me. I wanted to be the one that he came to, to indulge in sins of the flesh. I wanted him to show me everything, to show me how my body could feel. The thought of having a man take me there would have never even occurred to me. But this pleasure was undeniable.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please, don’t stop.”

I arched my back deeper, giving him more access, spreading my legs a little.

“Good girl,” he said as he drizzled a little more oil on me and started moving faster.

“Can I…?” I clamped my mouth shut before I finished my question, and he stopped. Immediately, I rocked my hips, wanting more.

“Can you what, angel?” he asked, still whispering in my ear and kissing my neck.

“Can I touch myself? I want to come while you fuck me.” Part of me couldn’t believe those words had come out of my mouth. The other part of me pointed out that I was in a church, getting fucked in the ass by a priest using holy oil as lubricant. Did asking to come make this worse?

He groaned against my neck, a low, quiet sound that I felt against my skin more than I heard.

“I want you to rub your clit in tight little circles. Do not stop until I tell you to. Do not come until I tell you to. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Father,” I said, and I slid my hand down my body and did as he said, amazed at how wet I was.

The familiar pressure built inside of me, and I had to go back to sinking my teeth into my forearm to stop myself from moaning.

“God, your ass is so tight,” he growled. “It feels so damn good.”

More pride bloomed inside of me as I continued to rub myself in tight little circles like he told me to. The pleasure in my core built and built, and I was pretty sure his words added to that pleasure. My heart rate picked up, hammering in my ears as a thin sheen of sweat broke out down my back, and my skin seem to explode into tiny goosebumps. My thighs gave that telltale quake, and I tightened my grip on the shelves until my knuckles were white and aching.

“Not yet, angel,” he growled. “Do not stop, but do not give in to it. Not yet.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t. I was afraid if I moved even a little that would set off my orgasm and he would be disappointed in me. I refused to disappoint him.

The pressure still built to unbelievable heights, and I closed my eyes, tightened my core, and pressed my teeth into my arm harder.

He let out another muffled groan that both had me worried someone would hear and happy that my body could give him pleasure. That it was my body pulling those noises from his lips.

“Not yet,” he breathed again, and I was not entirely sure he was talking to me. I thought he was trying to tell himself not to come, not to fill me up so as to enjoy this feeling for just a few more moments.

“Please.” I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hang on. My core ached, my ass was on fire, and I was still rubbing my clit in tiny little circles, but I needed release. Even my thighs were burning from trying to stop their trembling.

“Come,” he commanded.

As if his words were from God himself, my body obeyed. I sank my teeth even harder into my arm, tasting blood as my core spasmed over and over. I could feel my body clenching over his cock in my ass as he filled me, and pleasure engulfed all of my senses.

I was still shaking when he started petting my back, calming me. His cock was still hard in my ass.

“Do not move,” he said as he pulled away from me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him wiping his cock clean on a purificator cloth, then he opened a box of short, thick candles and removed one, covering it in more oil.

“You are not to remove this until you get home. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father,” I said. As the orgasm wore off and my head cleared, the horror of what I had just done, what we had just done, sank in.

My cheeks burned with humiliation, and my eyes flooded with tears as he took the candle and forced it into my now gaping asshole. Filling me with shame.

He pulled my panties back up, securing everything in place without cleaning me up at all. I felt dirty. I was dirty. When he told me to stand and turned me around, he wiped the tears from my cheeks and kissed me.

“Now, be a good girl. Go sit where I can see you,” he said as he guided us both out of the small closet.