34. Celine
Celine
Why did I expect the nuns to be patrolling the hallways at night? In my head, they would be walking around with candlelit lanterns, making sure that none of the women were out of bed after curfew.
Although I guess running into Sister Alice or one of the other nuns wouldn’t be too bad, but if I ran into Father Keaton? He’d probably think I was making a run for it, which would have been a terrible light to shine on the progress I plan on making.
But what if I ran into one of the nuns and it turned out worse than I thought? They could call for Father Keaton, and then they’d probably escort me back into my room and install a lock on the outside of my door to trap me inside, never allowing me to leave.
Was I overreacting? Probably.
But it is something I can’t help. Not when I know the man Father Keaton truly is.
Thankfully, on my venture down to the chapel, I didn’t bump into anyone. I silently snuck out of my room and made my way down the stairs like a mouse. It was eerily quiet as I walked through the halls, and my silly overthinking turned into real fear.
Especially under the dull light of the wall sconces. It was so silent this time of night that my labored breathing was the only thing I could hear, and every little noise had me almost jumping out of my skin.
Now, I stand outside the chapel, chewing at the skin on my thumb as I’m tucked away into the alcove of the doors.
I’m hidden in a massive shadow, and if anyone were to walk by, they wouldn’t see me.
With the comfort of being tucked away into the darkness, I attempt to calm myself down as I wait for Alex.
Where he wants to meet for our nightly prayer is beyond me. The library would have been perfect this time of night. Sister Greta is in bed, and we would have had the place to ourselves. We could have even gone back to the chapel again.
The memories of what took place in the room behind me flood through me. To be fair, the events have been on replay since they happened, and sometimes I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it was real.
I had sex with a priest.
In the chapel.
On the damn altar.
With holy water?
It sounds almost unbelievable, but that’s what that night was. Unbelievable.
I don’t feel ashamed of what happened between Alex and me because it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.
After he fucked me into the Heavens, I did feel a little sad knowing that when I got out of here, I would never see him again, and I’d have to go back to sleeping with mediocre men who can’t make me come.
But now, with the news that he’s leaving the church and will no longer be a priest?
I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t leap in my chest with excitement.
Do you hear yourself right now, Celine?
What the hell is happening with me? How in the world, of all people, has a priest got me in such a tizzy?
I told myself no man would turn me into a woman so consumed with the their presences, because I was focused on my job and climbing the ladder toward becoming an editor and maybe one day an Editor in Chief.
And look how far that plan has got me.
My mind wanders from Alex to the job I lost before coming here. It’s been weeks since I told her about my fake vacation days. I know she said that they will be ready for me whenever I get back, but I’ve been gone for so long, I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved on.
Sadness fills my chest, and tears begin to well in my eyes, realizing that I’ve blown my shot at working with Ortega Publishing, or any publishing company in the area, for that matter, and it wasn’t even my fault.
My parents are the ones to blame and when all of this is over with, I will cut off all contact with them because if they are capable of tricking me into joining a convent, what else are they capable of? The sadness turns into anger, but the tears remain.
I attempt to blink them away when I hear a noise coming from my left.
My body stiffens, and my focus returns to my surroundings.
Slightly peeking my head out of the shadow, I find Alex walking towards me.
A sigh of relief leaves me, and I step out from where I am hiding.
His eyes immediately find me, and a dimpled grin spreads across his face.
“Hey, you,” he says, his smile growing wider as he approaches me.
When he stands in front of me, his hand cups the side of my neck, and he pulls me in for kiss.
The gesture feels so normal. Everything feels natural with him, and it’s so strange to me.
This thing between us was supposed to be just hooking up, so why is it beginning to feel like more?
Why does the thought of having to leave this convent without him make my heart twist in pain?
“Hey,” I finally say when he steps away from me. “So where are we going?”
“My room,” he says nonchalantly and holds out his hand.
I stare down at his palm before glancing back up at him. “Your room? Isn’t that a little risky?”
He chuckles. “Celine, I fucked you on the altar in the chapel. If anything, that was riskier than sneaking you back to my bedroom.”
“I guess so.” I mull over his words, but still feel doubt in my stomach. “Are you sure you don’t want to just go to the library? It’s empty and—”
“Celine.” The way he says my name in a raspy tone has chills running down my spine. Alex closes the distance between us, tilting my chin as he says, “I would really like to fuck you in a bed.”
Heat floods my body, and I whisper, “Okay.”
With a smirk, he drops his hand from my face and intertwines our fingers.
We are slow with our steps, careful not to make any loud sounds as we head down the hall that leads to the corridor where his bedrooms are.
Alex turns the door handle gently, and the door creaks faintly as he pushes it open.
Both of us freeze in our spots, my body tensing up as we wait to hear any other noise beyond the door.
Once we know the coast is clear, Alex moves over the threshold and allows me to get a step ahead of him while he softly shuts the door. He turns back towards me, lifting a finger to point to the second door from the one we just came in from.
I glance at it for a moment before finding his gaze again. His finger is now up to his mouth, warning me to be quiet, and he mouths, “Keaton.”
With how slow and quiet I’m moving, I’m not worried about Father Keaton hearing my footsteps, but I’m afraid that he might be able to hear how loud my heart is pounding in my chest. I hold my breath as we pass his room, my chest growing tight, but I don’t exhale until we are a few doors down.
We continue to venture through the long hall until Alex stops outside a door at the very end. With a twist of the handle, he swings it open; thankfully, this one doesn’t squeak, and he gestures for me to get inside.
When I’m in the safety of his room, my shoulders relax, and I feel like I can breathe normally again. I hear him shut the door behind me, and the slight sound of something clicking reaches my ears. When I twist to face him, I see his hand leaving the lock on the doorknob.
“Need to be careful,” he says.
My head dips in a nod, and my attention goes back to his room, surprised by what I find.
I’d figured all of our rooms in the convent were identical, but I guess it makes sense that a priest’s bedroom would be bigger than mine.
He even has his own bathroom. Not fair. But there’s no window.
I frown at the fact that no natural light that can shine in here.
The lack of a window makes it feel almost like a dungeon.
My eyes trail from the beige walls to the full-size bed to my right. Of course, it is also bigger than the one in my room and looks like it has a thicker mattress than mine. At the end of his bed is a chest, and before I can think about it, my feet take me to it.
I kneel in front of the box, my hands running along the smooth surface before curving over the edge. My eyes dip down to the front, where I see there is no lock, making it easy to access.
When I start to open it, Alex says, “Don’t look in there.”
I’m mid lift, and my hand pauses. I should listen to him, but now I’m curious as to what he could be hiding. Without glancing his way, I raise the lid of the trunk the rest of the way and grow confused. I’m not even sure what I’m looking at. A whip of some sort?
“What is that?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the object.
Alex sighs, and I hear him come up beside me. “It’s called a discipline whip.”
I reach into the chest, my hand wrapping around the handle of the object sitting inside, and bring it out. “What is it used for?”
“It’s in the name,” he tells me, as I inspect the seven braided ropes that come off the handle. “When I do something or think about anything unholy, I use it to discipline myself.”
My curious eyes meet his. “How?”
Just by seeing his body language shift, I know he doesn’t want to tell me, but he takes the whip from me and begins to speak. “I remove my shirt, kneel before my bed, and as I grip the handle, I throw the cords over my shoulder.”
The image of him using this to inflict pain on himself has my body recoiling in invisible pain. “Why would you do that?”
“To punish myself for the thoughts I have and acts I commit that are not aligned with the priesthood.”
“That is insane,” I mutter in shock. “You’re hurting yourself.”
“It’s not that bad.” He tries his best to lie, but I see past it.
“Let me see,” I demand.
“What?”
“I want to see the wounds you give yourself,” I state, pushing myself off the floor to stand.
He stares at me for a moment, his breathing quickening as he gives. His hands meet the hem of his shirt, and he tugs it up and over his head. With clenched teeth, he twists his whole body to show me his back. A small gasp leaves me as I see the scars plastered on his skin.
Not bad, my ass.
They were bad enough at one point that they left numerous scars. My fingertip brushes the welts carefully, causing his body to flinch on reflex, and his head jolts to the side, his eyes trying to see what I am doing.
Observing his reaction to my fingers ghosting over his skin, I drop my stare and lean forward, pressing my lips to each one of the scars. His body finally relaxes as I place a mouth on the final one, lightly kissing the raised mark.
“Alex, you can’t do this to yourself anymore.” The plea leaves me with a wobbly voice.
I hate knowing that he was hurting himself like this and that he thought it was what he needed to do to pay for his sins.
“I won’t.” He turns to face me. “I promise.”
“When was the last time you did it?”
He inhales a deep breath through his nose and then smirks. “That night I brought you dinner, and you said you had been exercising.”
My cheeks flush at the memory.
Alex moves into my space, dropping the discipline into the chest at the end of his bed. “But you weren’t exercising, were you, Celine?”
I look at him through my lashes as he closes the distance between us. “You tell me, Alex. You used to stand outside my room and listen to me.”
“You were touching yourself.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “To the thought of me.”
“And how do you know I was thinking about you?” I play along even though we’ve had this discussion before.
His hands find the fabric of my nightgown, and he slowly pulls it up my body. The way the material ghosts across my skin gives me chills, and I shiver at the sudden sensation.
“Because you said my name while your fingers were inside you,” he tells me, as the hem of the dress meets my waist. “And my god, Celine, you moaning my name was the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”
I lick my lips. “Could have been a different guy named Alex.”
His hands hold the fabric still halfway up my body when his eyes quickly find mine, and they have grown dark. “Don’t fuck with me, little sin.”
My heart skips a beat at the demanding tone in his voice. “I—”
Alex wraps the material of the dress around his fist and brings his other hand to wrap around my head, where his fingers thread through my hair and tug roughly.
“Let’s get one thing clear: you are mine.” He pulls a bit tighter, my head tilting back until I’m forced to look at him. “No one gets you the way that I do.”
“If I’m yours,” I suck in a short breath, and maybe it’s because of the lack of air flowing to my brain, or because I actually mean it, I tell him, “Then you are mine.”
“All of me is yours.” He stares down at me with such devotion that it steals my breath away. “Every fucking inch of my body, heart, and soul is yours, Celine.”
Tears form in my eyes from his words, and seeing the shine in them is enough for him to loosen his grip on my hair.
“Now, I want you to show me how you make yourself come while you think about what’s yours.”