17. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
Celine stands there, staring at me with wide eyes. Her hands are in front of her chest, palms pressed together as she is about to pray. I remain silent for a moment, taking in the tint of her cheeks.
They have blushed at hearing my demand, and it takes every ounce of strength not to grin at the fact that she has a reaction to me ordering her around.
She swallows, and her lips part as the muscles in her arms seem to relax a bit. Her hands finally lower to her stomach, still pressed together, when she grabs my attention. “Father Alexander?”
My eyes flick up from her hands to her puzzled expression, and I say, “We kneel when we pray. Do we not?”
“I didn’t think we were getting that formal with our nightly prayer.” Celine allows her hands to drop to her sides, but she still doesn’t kneel.
“We are,” I say, taking a step back to give her more space.
Licking her lips, she lowers herself to her knees, staring up at me through her thick lashes. My jaw tightens at the sight below me. I thought fighting not to smile at her flushed face after I told her to get on her knees was hard, but this? This is a whole new level of testing my willpower.
As she kneels there, waiting for me to join her so we can get the prayer over with, I imagine the other things I want to do to her in this position.
My hand twitches by my side as my brain begs for it to unbutton my pants and take my cock out. It’s pointless to think of anything else to keep myself soft because I am growing harder as the seconds pass, just from the way she is looking at me.
Her lips part again, and I so badly want to shove myself inside of her mouth to feel how warm it is. To feel the pleasure she would bring me.
I don’t even know why my mind is conjuring up these images.
Sure, before I became a priest, I was sexually active.
However, it was always casual, one-night stands.
There was never a time when I saw a woman and thought of all the things I wanted to do with her.
It never crossed my mind. But now that Celine barged into my life, it’s all I can think about.
Finally, I slowly make my way to the ground, kneeling in front of her. If I didn’t, then she would have definitely noticed the bulge in my pants. Even on my knees, I loom over her, which is bad for me because she is still staring up at me.
Clearing my mind, I begin the prayer. “Our Father, which art in heaven…”
She opens her mouth and joins me. “Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, As it is in heaven.”
I drop my eyes to her mouth, watching how her lips move as she recites the prayer. It would be so easy to lean forward and claim her. To lay her on this floor and commit a sin that I pledge never to commit.
There is no denying that I want her. Even if it’s just a taste, that’s what I’m telling myself; maybe once would be okay. That God would forgive me for this slip-up.
“Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, But deliver us from evil.”
As she finishes the prayer, the corner of her mouth quirks upward. “Do we have to say it again since you stopped halfway through?”
“What?” I lift my gaze to hers.
“You didn’t finish it with me.” There is a shine in her eyes, and it is not because of the prayer. “Seemed like you were distracted.”
The teasing tone in her voice has me clenching my teeth. “All that matters is that you said it.”
“Right.” She nods. “Because I’m the one serving the punishment.”
I keep my eyes on her as she looks down at the floor. Without thinking, I raise my hand and tilt her chin up. The brief touch of her skin against mine sends an electric shock through my body. My heart thumps in my ears, and the pounding in my chest escalates.
One taste of her lips wouldn’t be bad.
“You are a walking sin,” I whisper, hoping she didn’t hear me, but by the shocked look on her face, I know she did.
Celine doesn’t say anything as she glances down at my lips. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.
One kiss.
God will forgive me.
I lean forward, already preparing my apology to God for when I get back to my room, and just as I am about to get my taste, I hear shuffling from the hall. Pulling back, I listen closely and realize that whoever it is, they are coming this way.
Celine must have heard the footsteps, too, because she shoots to her feet just before I do. She creates distance from me, going to the other side of the table and picking up the plate. Not a moment later, Sister Greta walks through the door.
“Father Alexander,” she greets me without enthusiasm. When she passes me, she stops when Celine comes into view. “You’re still here?”
“It took me forever to finish cleaning your office and you said you were done in here for the rest of the night,” she tells Sister Greta in a calm tone.
“I forgot something on my desk.” Sister Greta states.
Celine rolls her shoulders.“Well your office is spotless. You’re welcome.”
With the plate in her hand, she brushes past Sister Greta and me, leaving the library.
“She’s trouble. Just like that, Esther.”
“That’s kind of why I brought her to help you,” I say while trying to calm my heart rate and clasp my hands in front of me. “I figured that you could help her.”
“With what?”
“Celine needs someone who isn’t going to sugarcoat anything. She needs someone who will tell her how it is, even when she doesn’t want to hear it. She needs someone who is going to be tough on her.”
“Ah. So bring her to the mean, old woman.” She makes her way to her office. “I’ll try my best. That is, if I don’t scare her off first.”
“Trust me, you won’t.”
As I say my final words, Sister Greta disappears into the small hall. I take that as my cue to leave and head back to my room.
When I arrive in the corridor where the chapel is, I stop and look back at the staircase that leads to the women’s rooms. It’s late, and I should go back to my room so I can get some rest, but I find myself turning and climbing the stairs.
It’s quiet. Everyone is already asleep in bed, which means I need to keep my footsteps soft. I stand outside her bedroom door, staring at the dark wood that is splintering.
I’m not sure what I plan on doing. No matter how bad I want to, I can’t go in there. My brain doesn’t get that memo because it lifts to the door handle. I lightly brush my fingers over the brass, fighting a war in my mind.
Just when I start talking some sense into myself and remove my hand to turn to walk away, I hear a soft sound come from her room. I freeze, glancing over my shoulder at her door, and then I hear another one.
Chest heaving, I position myself in front of her door and listen. She is moaning more than the first time, and her voice is a little louder, too. I roll my jaw and glance down at my cock. It’s begging for release yet again.
Looking left and right to make sure the coast is clear, I do the unthinkable.
Slowly, I unbutton my pants and tug the zipper down.
Nerves flush through my body because if I get caught for what I am about to do, they might shun me.
But I can’t stop myself. Not as I shove my hand in my pants, and not as I wrap my hand around my cock.
I shudder at the sensation of just holding it and almost collapse as I begin to make lazy strokes.
I’m making sure to listen in case anyone sneaks up on me, but I’m mainly focusing on the noises she makes. Through the barrier, she sounds so sweet. It only makes me wonder how it would sound to be right next to her. I quicken my pace right when I hear her say my name breathlessly.
Again.
Fuck.
She is going to be my undoing.
I grit my teeth, trying not to make a noise as the pleasure takes over. Heat builds at the base of my spine as I imagine I’m in there with her.
Just the thought of suffocating myself between her thighs is enough to send me over the edge, and I come embarrassingly fast in my briefs. I can tell the moment Celine orgasms because her voice gets muffled by her hand pressing against her mouth.
After removing my hand from my slacks, I stand there for a few more seconds to control my labored breathing.
The reality of what I just did hasn’t sunk in yet, and I’m not sure when it will, but I need to prepare myself for when it does because I’m going to freak out.
For now, I savor the moment that we sort of had together and then turn to head back to my room.
It’s silent in the halls as I walk. No one is wandering around, and the only lights on are the wall sconces. The bulb inside resembles a flame, making this church feel more medieval than it truly is.
The building itself is beautiful. Its architecture is one of the main reasons I agreed to serve here. Besides learning from Father Keaton, of course. He is well-known in the priestly world. He is one of the best, and it is an honor to work with him.
Father Hobbs, at the church where I was working in New York, looked up to Father Keaton, and when he found out that I was transferring to Grace Community, he was ecstatic.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask me to get Father Keaton’s autograph and mail it to him.
I haven’t spoken much to Father Hobbs since being here in California, and I make a mental note to call him soon.
As I approach the hall that leads to our offices, the thoughts of Father Hobbs leave my mind when I remember that there was something I had planned on grabbing from my office after I met with Celine. I forgot because of what transpired between us. But since I am here, I might as well grab it now.
Making my way down the hall, my eyes narrow when I see light shining from under Father Keaton’s door. I check my watch to see that it is almost midnight. He is never up this late.
Taking a quiet step towards his door, I lift my hand to knock to make sure he is alright, but stop when I hear a noise. It isn’t something I’d have thought I’d ever hear from his office, and if the sound hadn’t happened again, I would have believed I was hearing things.
A moan.
Not a deep one that would come from him, but a feminine one.
I freeze in place, my knuckle an inch away from meeting the wood of his door.
At first, I think that maybe he is watching porn, but then a woman says something.
I’m not sure what words leave her mouth because she is speaking lowly, but I recognize the tone of her voice.
Joanna.
I’m not stupid. I know what is going on, but my brain doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact that it is actually happening.
Pulling my hand away from the door since I don’t want to accidentally hit it, I quietly take a step back. My mind is running at a mile a minute, trying to make sense of it all.
Then it hits me.
The other day, when I was supposed to meet Father Keaton to review my notes for Prayer, the door opened, and Joanna was the first one I saw.
Her cheeks had been rosy, but there was no sign that anything had happened between them.
I figured they had a meeting set up because Father Keaton tends to help the women with whatever troubles they are having.
Although that is why I am here, the women who have been here longer than I trust him more. Which is understandable.
But now my mind whirls like a storm. Had he been fucking her then? Is she the only one, or is he involved with other women? The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and then the anger builds.
Jesus Christ.
All this time, I had been struggling with dirty thoughts about Celine, and I found myself thinking about all the things I wanted to do to her.
With her. I felt bad because I knew it was a sin.
Knowing that if Father Keaton found out, he would think of me differently, and that thought alone had me feeling even worse.
And here, Father Keaton was sinning even worse than me?
Having sex with one of the women here?
Backing away from the door, I make my way quietly down the hall to go back to my room.
As I walk the silent corridors, I keep trying to convince myself that I was only hearing things.
That the noises coming from behind his door weren’t from Joanna, but from him watching porn.
Which is still a sin, but it wouldn’t have been that terrible of one.
When I get back into my room, I rest against the door, and my head falls back. My eyes shut tight, and I try to breathe evenly through my nose. Father Keaton, the priest that everyone admires, is having sex with a woman in the convent.
The news sits heavy in my chest, and I feel like I need to scream it out, but I can’t. There is no way that I can tell anyone about this. I won’t even attempt to talk to Father Keaton about what I heard because I know he will tell me a lie.
What I do know is that after learning this information, I don’t feel so guilty about wanting Celine.
If Father Keaton is committing the sin, then what is stopping me from doing the same?