Fifteen
Saylor
Buying some dresses appropriate for Mass was going to have to be prioritized. Just like last time, I had to change several times before I found something that didn’t show too much leg or cleavage or cling to my body. It was always one of the three, if not all three. The dress I settled on was strapless, but I added a cropped white-and-blue jean jacket to it to cover up all the skin, and it worked. It hit respectfully just below my knees, and it was straight, but not spandex snug.
When I stepped into the kitchen to find Mom, I regretted my decision to grab an Alani Nu to go. I could have done without the caffeine. She paused, holding her tea bag above her cup as her eyes scanned my body.
“Are you going to church?” she asked, finally sinking the tea bag into her cup of hot water.
“Yes,” I replied.
Mom watched me as I walked over to the refrigerator. “So, are you religious now?”
That was a hard no. I shook my head. “Just going to be supportive. There is a meeting after about the food pantry they want to open. I’ve enjoyed helping with the free clothes closet thing. I thought this might be something I would like.” I took my can of energy and closed the door.
“When I reminded you about your Salvation Army tree venture, I didn’t realize you would be so inspired to do so much goodwill. And the group counseling meeting about loss,” she went on, “that’s helping?”
Not at all since I had only gone to one. “It helps to talk about it with people who aren’t family.”
“I guess that makes sense. Whatever helps. I am glad to see you getting out. Even if a church wouldn’t have been my first choice.” She gave me a side-eye. “Your father has a lot of questions about all your running around. Gathe assured him that he is keeping an eye on you, and one of the guys stays there when you’re out past dark and makes sure you get home safely. But if this is going to be a regular thing, he’s going to want to check things out.”
I wanted to scream. But I remained calm.
“There is no need. For starters, in ten days, I turn twenty-two. Secondly, it’s a church. A freaking church. Can’t I have some part of my life that the family’s hand isn’t in? Something that is mine?”
Mom sighed as she stared at me. I waited, gripping my drink, tempted to throw it against a wall. I wasn’t the first daughter. I didn’t need security detail.
“I’ll talk to him. I know you want some freedom, and I want that for you, but, honey, you can’t change your family. And you will always be a target because of that. We just want you safe.”
A million times. I’d heard that at least a million times.
“Okay,” I replied, knowing this was pointless.
I would need to talk to Dad myself. But right now, I had to get to Mass. There was a hot priest who wanted to see me.
No, Momma, I am not religious. I am just paving a nice, shiny road to hell. But if you saw his green eyes, chiseled jaw, and sexy smile, you would so get it.
It was a very small house. Living room, kitchen with a table, no dining room, and from what I could tell, one bedroom and bathroom. That was all it could be. There wasn’t enough structure for there to be more. My favorite thing about it was that there was a faint trace of his scent in the air.
Just before Mass started, I’d gotten a text from Jude.
Jude:
Walk out at eleven fifteen while I am still talking. Go outside and go over to the rec hall, then walk around it to the back. Just between the rec hall and the church, you will see a clearing between the trees. Follow it. When you get to the front stoop, there is a loose stone to the right of the step. Pick it up, and the key will be there. Go inside. I’ll meet you there.
It all felt very clandestine, but then I supposed a priest shouldn’t allow single women into his home. Or perhaps spend time away from the church with them. I wasn’t sure of the rules. With a priest who looked like Father McDreamy…a grin broke out on my face, and then I laughed. I liked that. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Anyway, with a priest like Jude, women had to throw themselves at him all the time.
Was I throwing? No, I wasn’t. I was flirting, but he was flirting too.
I heard footsteps on the stoop just before the door opened. Jude closed it, then stepped inside. His gaze scanned the room until he found me sitting on his sofa. The pleased look on his face did things to my lady parts, heart, and ego. He was happy to see me.
“Hey,” he said.
Then, his eyes dropped to my chest, and I saw him suck in a deep breath. Glancing down, I remembered I’d taken off the jacket. It had gotten hot outside, and I wasn’t in church anymore.
“It got warm,” I explained, not at all upset over the way he ripped his eyes off my boobs and swallowed hard.
“Uh, yeah…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t.
He walked toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a water?”
He had his back to me. He wanted to look again and was fighting it. I’d have some fun with that.
“Yes, please. I’m parched.” I stood up and made my way to follow him.
He opened his small older-model refrigerator and took out two bottles. I stopped and leaned on the small island that separated the living area from the kitchen area to watch him, and because when he turned around, my cleavage would be on display. Seeing his eyes heat up was a drug I wanted more of.
“Since we will be gone during lu-nch,” he said, freezing when his gaze went right where I’d wanted it to. Both waters in his hands, door to the refrigerator still open, Father Jude barely blinked.
I reached toward him with one hand for a water. Yes, it caused my boobs to jiggle and possibly move one so a nipple was dangerously close to popping free, but again, seeing this man want me was intoxicating. Because the feeling was mutual.
“Thanks,” I said as he swallowed, trying not to look at my chest.
He placed the water in my hand while pushing the door closed. Leaning up on my elbows, I opened the water, still keeping his complete attention on my tits.
He cleared his throat again and pulled at his collar, tearing his eyes off me. “If I cut the air down, would you possibly put the jacket back on and button it up to your neck?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Too much skin for the food pantry?” I asked.
He opened his water and kept his eyes on the lid as if it were the answer to all life’s questions and he couldn’t lose it. “Eh, well, maybe. But I was thinking now.”
I straightened back up and stepped away from the island, but I didn’t move to get my jacket. “It’s not very comfortable. Is it okay if I wait until we are there?”
Jude pulled at his collar some more. My attention snagged on how big his fingers were. They were masculine and tanned, as if he’d spent his days doing manual labor in the sun.
“Saylor.” He said my name, and I stopped admiring his hand to look at his face. He was still keeping his gaze averted.
“Yes?”
“Raw truth?”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “If I look at you, I’m not going to be able to take my eyes off your chest. And I am sorry about that. I’m a priest, but I am also a man, and you’re…” He paused for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before slowly letting it go. “Just…could you turn around so I can think?”
This was that difficult for him? My nipples ached as they tightened. I’d been turned on before, but like everything with Jude, this was next level. No, it was a thousand levels higher.
“Is it a sin to look?” I asked, feeling as wicked as I was currently being.
“Yes.” His voice sounded raspy.
“But you’re not touching. So, it’s not sex.” I was pushing it, and I knew I needed to stop, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“A vow of celibacy means no lustful thoughts.”
His empty hand fisted. Reaching up, I ran a fingertip over my right breast. This entire thing had them both feeling full and achy.
“So, you never have lustful thoughts?” I didn’t want that to be true. Not when, as of late, I’d been masturbating to thoughts of him daily.
Jude let out a hard laugh, then closed his eyes, clenching them tightly. “Yes, I do. But I try not to entertain them.”
Setting my water down, I covered both breasts with my palms and squeezed. A soft moan drifted past my lips.
“Saylor.” My name sounded like a warning.
“Yes?” I whispered.
“Stop whatever you’re doing.” His voice was so thick. I wondered if it would sound like that when he was fucking.
“Do you ever jerk off?” I asked, my tone husky with my arousal.
“No,” he snarled.
I liked that. What would he be like angry?
“That seems unfair,” I panted, still kneading my breasts. “I get so turned on that my clit throbs, and my panties get soaked. I have to get a release.”
“Jesus,” Jude hissed, now gripping the counter. Every muscle in his body drawn tight. He closed his eyes.
“I probably should have kept that to myself.”
A frustrated chuckle, then, “Didn’t help with the lustful thoughts.”
“Seems only fair since, lately, you’ve been starring in all mine.”
A low growl came from his chest, and his eyes opened. They weren’t on me. His head was turned to look toward the table and two chairs that sat by the far wall. The veins standing out on his neck made me want to lick them. Taste his skin. Another sound—from me. I was whimpering.
Jude’s head snapped around, and his eyes locked on mine. The feral gleam was so unlike the controlled priest; it was a possibility that I might orgasm just like this. As long as he kept looking at me like I was his prey.
“Show me.” His voice didn’t even sound like him. More animalistic than man.
“What do you want to see?” I asked.
His eyes dropped to my chest. “Your tits.”
Yep. I was going to orgasm without touching my vagina.
I reached under my arm and unzipped the dress while holding the front up with my other hand. The heat from his eyes felt like it was singeing me as he followed my every move. I dropped my hold, and the front slid down, exposing my bare breasts to him.
His pupils darkened, and the bottle he was holding fell to the counter as he grabbed the ledge. The hunger in his eyes went beyond lust. It was desperate, uncontrolled, and so intense that everywhere his gaze touched me, it felt like an electric current.
“Touch them.” His voice cracked.
“With you watching me like that, it’ll make me come.”
“Fuuuck.” That one drawn-out curse sounded like a plea.
I knew this was where we should stop. I’d caused him to commit sins, and although I didn’t worry about my sins, he did his. If he watched me get off, that would just be another sin.
“Please.”
The urgency was what made me do it. I would do whatever he wanted if he asked me like that.
Cupping my breasts, I watched as he started to pant. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. I began to trace circles around my nipples. One of his hands went down to grab his crotch as he groaned.
“Pinch them.”
I did, and he let out another deep sound from his chest.
I squeezed them hard, needing to ease the ache, but it only made the heat between my legs rise. I needed to rub against something. I was so close. Right, wrong, what I was and wasn’t supposed to do in front of a priest—it all went out the window.
Letting go of my right breast, I pushed my hand down the front of my dress. Jude opened his mouth, but nothing came out as he froze. My fingers slid into my satin panties, and my knees buckled as a moan tore from me, much louder than the others. That was what I’d needed.
I heard Jude say something, but I was already spinning. Rocking against my hand as I pumped two fingers inside me, and my pleasure exploded. With my mouth open, my body jerking with each pulse, I watched Jude.
A strangled roar came from him, and I saw then that his hand was in the front of his slacks. He’d been jerking off, and I had missed it. I wanted to see his cock. That big, tanned hand wrapped around it.
Slipping my hand back out, I stood there, gulping in air as I slowly came back down. Jude dropped his head, closing his eyes. The slump of his shoulders didn’t bode well for me. That was regret. His body language wasn’t one of a man who had just gotten off, but one who wished he hadn’t and felt guilty about it.
I tugged my dress up, covering myself and zipping it back up. He still hadn’t lifted his head. If anything, he looked even more upset. I understood that he was a priest and what had just happened went against his vows, but I was still standing here. His ignoring me to sulk or pray or whatever he was doing was rude. Only one man…no, only one boy had seen me like this. Crosby had been the only sexual experience I had until now.
I was a little vulnerable at the moment, and he wasn’t helping things. Clenching my teeth, I tried to calm my rising temper, but it was surging in fast. Like a train off its track, unable to stop.
“Maybe I should go,” I said, giving him the chance to say something. To stop me. Tell me no, to wait. That he wanted me here. Anything.
“Yeah”—he nodded—“I think you should.”
Anything but that.
I would have preferred he had just slapped me. It would have hurt less.