Eighteen
Jude
It could have been worse. The damage to the church had was nothing compared to some of the businesses that were completely destroyed. The rec hall would be closed down until the roof could be replaced and the water damage inside was fixed. We could work around it easily enough. The broken bathroom window in the rectory had already been replaced, and I’d cleaned up the glass, limbs, and trash that had blown inside the bathroom. If the tornado had moved over just a few more yards, the small house would have been taken out completely. I’d been lucky there.
Running my hand over my face, I groaned, thinking about how lucky the building that housed the clothes closet had been. I held my fingers to my nose and inhaled. I hadn’t washed my hand. I had started to several times, and I couldn’t do it. I’d never smelled anything like it, and it was messing me up. Worse than I already had been.
While I had picked up debris, talked to the insurance adjuster, made calls to the parishioners who had been in the path of either storm, set up meals to be provided to those without power, our time in the closet hadn’t left my thoughts once. She hadn’t left my thoughts.
I flexed my hand as I held it out and stared at it. I was jealous of my own hand.
If her family—I was assuming that was who those guys were—hadn’t shown up, I wasn’t sure I’d have let her leave the damn closet. It had smelled like her pussy. And that thing it had done, where it squirted—I hadn’t known about that. I was so tempted to google it.
My head fell back onto the sofa. Her family, those men—they’d known. I could see it in all their eyes as they looked at me. I hadn’t been sure for a moment that one or more wasn’t going to put their fist in my face. Which I would have deserved. Not only was I a priest, but I was also eight years older than her. Those two things should have been enough to stop this.
But I was starting to think nothing was.
King David had sinned, and then came Solomon. I mean, if God could use the two of them, he could still use me. I was a man. One who hadn’t known his own needs when I took my celibacy vow.
Delana had been young, and although I had wanted to do things with her—things other than kissing and playing with her tits—she’d been adamant about waiting until marriage. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten sick, we’d have finally given in and done more. But she died. Taking my heart with her. I had believed that meant my desire for sexual things too.
I had been wrong. So very, very wrong.
Turning my head to the left, I stared at my rosary beads. I’d picked them up earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to pray. The thought of asking for forgiveness and calling what I’d done with Saylor a sin bothered me. What did that say about me? I was a priest.
I had spent years of my life to get to where I am now. Money spent to get through seminary. Guilt at that thought ripped through me. Delana’s parents, devout Catholics, had paid for my seminary degree. They’d said it was what she would have wanted.
Now, I’m finger-fucking a girl eight years younger than me and smelling her on my hand, refusing to wash it.
What happened to me? How did I become this?
Before her, I’d even been smug about my ability not to succumb to lust. Sure, I’d fought off the need to masturbate and only given in to that sin five times since finishing seminary. All of which I had confessed and asked forgiveness for.
This was different.
How did I go back after knowing how her cunt felt? Slick, tight, soft, so hot. The thought of my dick sinking into that. No wonder men were brought down by sex.
My hand went to squeeze the erection I’d given myself, thinking about it.
My phone’s text message alert went off, and I sat up, taking my hand off my dick, and picked it up. Fully expecting it to be someone in need of food or shelter or wanting to help clean up tomorrow. That wasn’t what it was.
I stared down at her name— Dimples . I’d changed it in my phone after she added her number. Lifting my fingers to my nose again, I smelled her, then slid my thumb over the phone to read what she had sent.
Saylor:
I will be late tomorrow morning.
That was it. No explanation. Nothing.
She was upset with me. I tried to think of what I had done wrong.
Jude:
Is everything okay?
I waited while replaying everything that had been said before I left her.
Saylor:
Yes.
I frowned. That had been a lot of dots for one word.
Jude:
No, something is wrong. What is it?
There was a tightening in my chest. Was that anxiety? I gripped the phone, willing her to type faster. Dots, gone, dots again, then gone.
I hit Call and lifted the phone to my ear. Texting wasn’t going to be enough. I didn’t like how this felt. I wanted to hear her voice.
“Hello?” she said hesitantly.
“What’s with the short replies?”
She sighed. “I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered with me.”
The slight edge of pain in her voice had me wanting to get in a car I didn’t own and drive to her house that I didn’t know the address to.
“You could never bother me,” I replied honestly. “Why would you think that you would?”
“Because you couldn’t get away from me fast enough today.”
Was she serious?
“Four men—one who I know is your friend, the others I’m assuming are family—showed up to get you. And I’d just had you come on my fingers. It was an awkward situation.”
She sucked in a breath when I said come on my fingers , and my dick throbbed in my pants. I unbuttoned my jeans, then unzipped them to free myself before I had a permanent zipper scar. I leaned back on the sofa and threw my arm over my eyes, hoping if I didn’t look at my hard dick, I wouldn’t think of where I wanted to put it.
“They were family. My dad—he has Parkinson’s, and it’s gotten to the point that he is in a wheelchair. He can’t get around like he used to. My, uh, uncle and cousins came for him.”
I hadn’t known about her dad. That got my mind off my erection.
“I knew your parents were worried. I didn’t know about your dad. I just…well, they had come to get you, and me standing there was holding things up.”
I heard a rustling and wondered where she was. It was quiet. Maybe her bedroom.
“They were. My mom is a bit dramatic. Which upsets Dad,” she said. “So, that was why you left? Because of the guys? You weren’t regretting it, like on Sunday?”
Regret . That was a complicated word. One I wasn’t sure I recognized anymore.
“Dimples, I’ve not washed my hand all day so that I can smell your pussy.”
“Oh.” Her breathy response had me biting back a groan. “Really?”
If I wasn’t so hard right now, I’d laugh. “I swear.”
“Can priests swear?”
“At this point, I think swearing is the least of my sins. Don’t you?”
“I suppose so. Did you…I mean, since it was your first time doing that…” She paused. “Did you like it?”
The insecurity in her tone both surprised me and bothered me. Why was she insecure? Did she not realize how incredible she felt and the way she sounded? I wrapped my free hand around my erection, giving in.
“I think I mentioned that I haven’t washed my hand. And you must have been able to tell I shot a load in my pants. I wasn’t subtle about it.”
More rustling, then a soft sigh.
“I was just checking. We didn’t get to talk about it after, thanks to the unwanted calvary.”
I grinned.
“Well, in their defense, there was a wake of destruction around us.”
“Mmm,” she said. “It was fine. Not like we could have done anything to stop it.”
I chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished they’d given us another twenty minutes.” Or an hour .
“Twenty minutes, huh? What would we have done?”
More rustling. She was in bed. That was the covers. I squeezed my dick.
“Found a light, for starters. I wanted to see your tits again.”
“Oh,” she breathed. She was aroused.
“Stood you up and pulled those shorts and soaked panties off so I could look at your pussy,” I told her as I started slowly pumping my cock.
“Ohh.”
“Saylor.”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?” I asked, already knowing but wanting the image painted for me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m in bed, and hearing your voice, talking about it…I just need to touch myself a little.”
Fuck. That’s a good girl . Or a bad one. A very bad one who was going to be my undoing.
“What are you wearing?” I asked, closing my eyes.
“A nightie. It’s light pink.”
Jesus.
“Panties?”
“No,” she said just above a whisper.
I let out a low groan as pre-cum leaked from my tip.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Sitting on my sofa with my cock in my hand, pumping it while imagining you in a pink nightie with your legs spread open and those dainty fingers of yours sliding over your wet pussy.”
“Oh God,” she moaned.
“You have no idea how bad I want my mouth there, lapping up all that wetness. So that it’s all I can smell, your taste coating my tongue.”
“Jude,” she gasped into the line. Her soft voice sent jolts of heat straight to my cock. “I want to feel you inside me. Stretching me. I felt it. It’s big. I want that being thrust inside me over and over.”
I was gonna come. I pinched the head to stop myself. Not yet. I wasn’t ready for this to end. “Your little hole is so tight. You squeezed my two fingers so hard; I wasn’t sure if you could take more.”
“Ah, yes. Fuck, I can. I want it. Buried so deep.” She moaned my name again.
I wasn’t going to be able to hold it back. “Mmm, those blue eyes looking up at me as I explode inside you.”
“Oh. OH. I want to feel your cum fill me, shoot into me, leak from my pussy,” she said, then cried out.
That image, those words.
My hips came off the sofa as I let out a low growl while my cum shot out pump after pump, thinking of her legs open to see her pussy as my semen oozed out slowly. I jerked, spasmed, and groaned.
I sat there, covered in my release, breathing hard. I’d have ended up jerking off to her anyway tonight. Having her in my ear while I had done it was a million times better.
“Jude.”
“Dimples.”
A soft laugh. “I didn’t mean to start that.”
No, but I thought I had. “You didn’t.”
“It felt good though. Not as good as when you did it, but still.”
My cock twitched. “Yeah, do me a favor and don’t talk about how good it felt when I did it.”
“Why?”
“Because that’ll get me worked up again.”
She went quiet.
“Why are you going to be late tomorrow?” I asked. Not that she had to be there at all. I just wanted her there. Close.
“I have to get a new car,” she replied. “I wouldn’t worry about it, but if I don’t get one, then one of them will be dropping me off and picking me up. I’d rather them not.”
I needed confirmation on who all of “them” were. Something about the way she referred to them as cousins or family felt off. They were all tall, muscular, and the way they looked…yeah, I wasn’t crazy about it. Women would throw themselves at them. Even the one she’d said was her uncle. I could believe that her family’s DNA had produced a bunch of males that looked like that because she was breathtaking. But something didn’t sit right. And I thought I hated the one named Gathe.
“How many cousins do you have? Seems like your extended family is all male, except you. Are they all brothers?”
There was a pause.
“Um, well, I have my older sister, but she lives in Louisiana with her husband. But other than her, pretty much all males. And I have seven male cousins—at least who live here in Madison.”
Seven, huh?
“And uncles? And aunts?” I added the last word just so it didn’t seem like I was focused on the males.
“Six uncles and two aunts.”
Two aunts? Were the others divorced or just single?
I wasn’t going to keep prying. It would get weird. But the niggling that I was missing a vital piece of information was there.
“Big family,” I said.
She let out a short laugh. “Yeah. You could say that. What about you? A big family?”
Not like that, I didn’t.
“Older sister—married, two kids. Older brother—married, one kid. Older brother—divorced, no kids. Mom was an only child, and her parents are dead. Dad had one brother, but he lives in California. Only met him, like, twice in my life.”
“You’re the baby of four. I didn’t peg you for a youngest child.”
I grinned. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re so responsible.”
I looked down at my cock that I needed to put away. “Really? You sure about that?”
A soft laugh came over the line that I wished I could record to listen to whenever I wanted. “Responsible and having a sex drive are two different things.”
Maybe. But right now, I was happy. And I couldn’t remember feeling like this in a very long time.
A small voice in my head taunted, You’ve never felt like this .
I shoved that thought away. I wasn’t going to accept that. Because I had. Sex hadn’t been a part of it, but I had been happy with Delana.
“My eyes are getting heavy. I need to get some sleep. Good night, Jude.”
“Good night, Dimples.”