Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

THOMAS

A s we left the storage closet, not a single person said a word. No one even noticed us.

No one except for one priest, who was looking for me.

He came up to me, concern in his eyes.

“What was that about? Why were you in that room with that girl?”

“Miss Astrid was having a moment of doubt. With the stress of her mother’s current issues, she just needed someone to confide in for a moment. She didn’t feel comfortable being in a confessional doing it, so I gave her a quick moment to let her air her grievances, and then bring her back to the light,” I said, smiling, amused by my little double play there.

“Of course,” the other father said, satisfied with my answer. “Would you mind leading the mass today? I’m afraid I’m not feeling that well.”

He was fine. Only hungover from the communion wine he had snuck out the night before. I did not know why he felt the need to sneak and hide his drinking. We were Catholic, for Christ’s sake. He could have just gone down to the pub and there wouldn’t have been a single problem with it.

“I would be honored,” I answered. “I think I have the perfect topic for today’s sermon.”

The other priest nodded and then went to the back of the room, to the staircase that led to the choir loft. There were benches behind the choir, and as the choir sang, the acoustics of the room drew the sound down around the congregation. No doubt he was going up there to lie down and hopefully sleep it off.

Fucking lightweight.

I proceeded to the altar as the organist signaled to everyone that it was time to start.

Mary Quinn Astrid was sitting between her husband and her daughter up front, as if she had nothing to hide. Stubbornly sticking to the idea that she had lost no standing in the community. Never mind that there was at least a three-person width around them in every direction that was completely empty. Completely empty in a packed church. There were even several congregation members who stood at the sides or at the very back instead of sitting near them.

Perfect.

This made it so much easier for me to watch my angel squirm. I took a sermon out of my breast pocket; it was one of a few I always carried with me to mass in case I was asked to lead. This wasn’t the first time I had to fill in at the last minute, but this was the first I was so damn happy about it.

I raised my voice, making sure it carried to the very back of the room.

“The Temptation of the Flesh.”

Immediately, my eyes returned to Rose. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks burned. She tilted her head forward, using her long hair to shield her face from anyone else, but I could still see her just fine.

“Beloved congregation, today we gather to discuss a topic that weighs heavily on the soul and tests the very fabric of our faith: the temptation of the flesh.”

In seminary school, we were often taught that certain women can form an attraction to religious leaders. It wasn’t their fault. It was completely natural. Many women felt that we were talking directly to them if we stared out into the crowd. They got it into their heads that we were looking at them, that we were making eye contact. More often than not, our eyes were completely glazed over, and we were just repeating the sermon for the fiftieth time.

The best way to prevent this from happening was to use bouncing eyes. This meant that we never looked in the same direction for more than a sentence or two. I could stare at the far left for a couple of moments, then somewhere in the middle, then somewhere up front, then back over to the right.

If my eyes were constantly moving, then no one would think that I was making eye contact. But this time I couldn’t help looking straight back to my little angel.

Thankfully, since she was sitting next to her mother, the entire congregation assumed that I was speaking to Mary Quinn about her dalliances outside of her marriage.

Just another nail in her coffin.

“Our Lord has given us commandments to guide us, yet the human heart can be swayed by whispers of temptation. We may lick at the edge of sin, tantalized by the promise of satisfaction . But let us not forget that these fleeting pleasures often come at a price. We must resist the allure of orgasmic ecstasy that tempts us to surrender to earthly desires, for such indulgences can lead us down a path of moral decay.”

Bouncing my eyes for a moment before returning to my angel.

Her hair still curtaining her face, her eyes were bright as they stared up at me, and I could see a mix of emotions in those beautiful green orbs. She was conflicted. Her mind was telling her that what we were doing was wrong, that it was a sin and it would send her to hell. Her body was telling her to obey me. That only I could give her such exquisite pleasure, and the candle shoved up her ass was supporting both arguments. But I knew exactly what I wanted my little angel to think. I knew the path that I was going to lead her on.

“Consider the act of submission to the will of God, a far nobler submission than yielding to the lustful whispers of the flesh. Just as the faithful must bow in reverence to the Almighty, so too must we discipline our bodies, keeping them in check. Yet, how often do we hear the call to lash out in passion, to taste the forbidden delights that beckon from the shadows?”

When my eyes came back to my angel again, I looked at her and willed her to think of the punishments I had given her, and the rewards.

She submitted to me so fucking beautifully. When I had her desperate, wanton, and under my hand, as far as she was concerned, my will was the will of God. I would discipline her body, I would play with her heart, with her mind. She would feel the wrath of my lashing out, and my passion.

I would give her the only tastes she would need of the forbidden delights that beckoned to her.

“May they find the strength to resist the sweet temptations that promise pleasure but deliver only the lash of guilt and the burden of shame. And may we all strive to lead lives of purity, turning away from the fleeting orgasms of earthly pleasure.”

Her beautiful face practically glowed with shame.

Anyone looking at her wouldn’t know it was because there was a candle covered in oil and my semen in her. She was still so innocent and looked so pure in that white dress. Everyone would simply assume that she was embarrassed by the shame her mother brought on their name. Every single one of these narcissistic sheep would hear my sermon and assume it was aimed at Mary Quinn and her sins and not her daughter and the depraved things I did to her in the shadows.

“In closing, I urge you all to reflect on the teachings of our faith and to embrace a life of holiness. Let us bow before God, submit to his will, and find true fulfillment in his love.”

The entire congregation bowed their heads, and I stepped down to allow another priest to lead in the readings of several prayers and the singing of a few psalms.

I sat at the back of the pulpit, not really paying attention to what was happening in front of me, not really caring if anyone noticed. My attention was solely on Rose, as hers was on me.

Her eyes narrowed in a minor act of defiance. Her mind was winning. Never mind, that was fine. I needed the balance. If I was going to break her, make her lash out, I needed her angry. For now, I would let that anger grow. I would coax it into a fire, and once that blaze was raging, all it would take was a few words of praise, another orgasm or two and showing her body how much she wanted to obey me. Then I could unleash that inferno and point it straight at Mary Quinn. The last pillar of my plan would be complete.

Once mass was over, I made a beeline to the Astrid family. It was very easy to do since no one was talking to them. I headed them off at the very edge of the room, positioning myself next to Rose with both of our backs to the wall.

“Mr. and Mrs. Astrid, how are you this fine Sunday?”

“Well. Thank you.” Mary Quinn’s answer was abrupt, her tone showing her thin control over her anger.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” I said. “Before you go, I just wanted to tell you how unbelievably helpful Rose has been these last few weeks. Her enthusiasm has been invaluable.” I put my hand at the small of Rose’s back, then slid it down subtly so I could press against her ass just hard enough the candle would shift.

She coughed to cover up whatever groan tried to escape her lips.

“I’m so glad,” Mr. Astrid said. “I find it so important that at least one member of our family is still holding up our family’s obligations to the community.”

I was surprised by the bite in Mr. Astrids’ words.

Most people assumed he did not know what his wife was up to, but I had heard that he knew Harrison was not his and raised him as his own, anyway. It was also common knowledge that the Astrids, like most families in our position, did not have a marriage of love but one of negotiations and contracts. Still, I thought most people assumed that for Mary Quinn, Mr. Astrid just simply didn’t have a backbone. Maybe he was growing one. Or maybe he just never cared for her enough to control her behavior.

“Yes, I agree. I find it is quite important to have, at the very least, one member of the family serving someone other than themselves. I’m afraid that even my being a member of the clergy is not enough to balance my father’s sins. But a man can try.”

Mr. Astrid laughed at my joke and then clapped me on the back, completely unaware that I had just fucked his youngest daughter in the ass, or that I had spent the last several weeks corrupting her.

This was more fun than I thought it would be.

Mary Quinn stood there, her face blank except for the scowl on her lips as she looked around at the people she considered—if not friends, at least admirers? colleagues maybe?—ignore her.

“Yes, well. Now that you are back in town, maybe we should get the families together. It seems like between Harrison and Amelia getting married, I rarely see all of my children and I see no reason not to make it a whole family event.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “My father did mention that he wanted the entire family together soon to give his new bride a proper introduction to his closest friends. I have to say I don’t think I have ever seen that man more smitten in his life. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile before he married Stella. Now the man is all smiles.”

“I hear love can do that to a man,” Mr. Astrid said, giving another subtle dig. Between that, the way people were staring and my reminding Mary Quinn of my new, very young stepmother, she was practically fuming in silence.

“Let me know when you would like to get together. I would absolutely love to help set this up.” I smiled, genuinely enjoying this exchange. “Before you go, do you mind if I borrow Rose for just a moment? I need to ask her a few things about the bazaar.”

“Of course,” he said. “That’ll actually give me a moment to catch up with a few of my friends here.”

With that I led Rose off to the side where we wouldn’t be overheard, and I watched Mr. Astrid turn and leave his wife without a second word.

It looked like my plan was working better than I thought it would.

Victory felt so good. I pushed it down. Not yet. She could still come back from this and I would not celebrate before the final blow.

“What do you want now?” Rose bit out under her breath.

“Are you talking back to me, little angel? Careful, I’m going to think you like the punishments. Is that what you’re doing? Baiting me for more?”

Her cheeks burned again, and I pushed back the smile in case someone looked over and read something into this conversation.

“I just wanted to tell you I am very proud of you for the way you took your penance earlier. I understand it was not a straightforward thing to do without complaint, but you were so good, you deserve a reward for your behavior. I just wanted to make sure you knew that your… trials have not gone unnoticed. I am sure that there are blessings in your future.”

Her eyes widened as she took in my meaning, and then her eyes went back to the ground as another blush colored her face.