Chapter 24 Ewen
EWEN
Sad, it’s the only word to describe how I felt leaving Declan yesterday.
Our days of bliss are over. I had to get back to my job.
Bishop Wilson took care of everything while I was gone.
It was as if no time had passed in my absence.
I told everyone I’d stayed and helped, but it was a lie.
Other than the first day, Declan acted as if nothing happened to him.
He moved a hair slower, but never said anything about being in pain or discomfort.
The sensation of him was foreign at first but now it feels like I’m missing something when he isn’t here, touching me, kissing me.
I jumped back into my duties. I held confession, which was boring without my stalker coming in and confessing. The confirmation class was good, and I was even able to get the ferns planted in the garden.
But when I laid down in bed, I was lonely. Beocca curled up and purred, making me feel loved, but it wasn’t the connection I wanted. I missed Declan and his bed. My place was basic and boring, just like me. His was old and new, chaos and balance. Everything I would use to describe him.
By the umpteenth time of tossing and turning, I knew sleep wasn’t happening. I read my Bible, hold my rosary tight, and try to push away the things I had but can’t have anymore. My time of feeling normal was a nice vacation from my daily life.
Before I realize it, it’s morning and my alarm is blaring. I grab my clothes and get dressed on auto pilot. It’s when I’m putting on my clerical collar that the sadness evaporates and only shame remains.
I sinned. I laid with a man. Me, Ewen, the broken man devoted to his religion and God.
And I did it without a single second of doubt or regret.
I loved it even. Would I have become a priest if Declan had forced me to stay in that alleyway with him?
I want to think I would have, but I don’t know. The option was never given to me.
“Here.” Mother Helen hands me a fresh cup of coffee upon my entrance to the office. “Thank the Heavens you’re back. I’m not fond of Bishop Wilson.”
I take a sip of my coffee with a splash of half and half. Another person who’s learned my ways. It’s such an odd feeling. Nobody other than Caleb has ever made me feel memorable and this is the second person this month to make me feel just that.
“What has he done?” I ask. I’ve never had an issue with the bishop myself.
She waves her hand in disregard. “Oh, nothing really. He’s just not as organized as you. He tries to come in and run this ship. Bosses the nuns around. We’re family, not servants.”
I didn’t realize she was fond of me until now. “He’s just from a time in the church that has a lot of dark shadows cast upon that time.”
“You don’t think I am?” She puts her hands on her hips. “A nun isn’t supposed to be ordered around like that. Just stay here and we won’t have any issues. Now, let’s move on. We don’t have the baptism today. The family called and cancelled the whole event.”
My eyebrows shoot up in concern, fearing her next words are something tragic. “I promise nothing dire. The baby is sick and since they’re a small family, they just decided to reschedule.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear it was nothing major. When did they reschedule?” I ask as I flip open the calendar on my desk. She’s been the best person to help me. It’s honestly her place, I’m just here.
“Next month when you have some availability. It’s already on your calendar. I also updated it to add your cat’s yearly exam.”
Now she’s helping Beocca, the cat she side-eyed when we first showed up. “Thank you, Helen.”
She leaves with another wave of her hand. I’m coming to realize she wants no recognition. A true woman of the cloth.
With so much of my day freed up I keep myself busy with other chores like dusting and organizing. First because it needs to be done. Second, I need to be distracted. My brain wanders to Declan and the guilt weighs in. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.
Sister Martha grabs me for lunch. I enjoy eating with the nuns. We have such lovely conversations and any anxiety I have fades away.
After lunch we tend to the gardens. When we finish it’s time for the nuns to go back to their convent. I will be alone again. I have always preferred to be alone until recently. Now, a certain man has me longing for his attention.
I head up to my apartment. Turning the knob, I let myself in and reach out to flip the switch for the lights, but they don’t turn on. Maybe the light bulb is blown. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I go to turn on the flashlight when a sudden movement sends my phone flying out of my hand.
A hand covers my mouth, and I’m slammed back against the wall. What is happening?
All the weight of my assailant shoves me harder. The chilled edge of a knife greets my throat. I start to freak out. The feel of the intruder is familiar though. The scent following is the one I’m familiar with—leather and citrus. I’m calm because I know who my attacker is.
Declan.
But why is he doing this?
“I heard you needed to be forced, Priest.” The deep frequency from that night. I always thought I misremembered his voice. It never sounds this dark, this…sexy. His tone is always so perfect. Just this version holds all his darkness. My dick starts to throb and ache behind my pants.
Then his words hit me. Forced. Is he doing what I told him?
Getting me out of my mind and giving me the clarity of coercion.
We’re playing a game here. Only this time I know I won’t die.
Other than that first meeting, I’ve never feared for my life with him.
I feel it deep inside me that he’ll never hurt me.
“Say something, Priest or I’ll gut you like a fucking fish.” The knife pushes harder yet not enough to break the skin.
Time to play this game. “Please don’t. I don’t want to die.” I know I won’t, but I try to channel my emotions and feelings from our first encounter.
It’s completely dark in here. Way darker than normal. I can’t see anything. My sense of smell and touch are more alive, grabbing for every detail they can. My mouth starts to water. My breathing increases, not from fear but lust.
His nose grazes along my neck. “I don’t believe you. I think you want to die.”
“No. I swear I want to live.” And I do.
“Then show me how much you value your life.” Suddenly I’m pulled away from the wall and the knife disappears. He spins me around and forces me to my knees. They scream in protest from the impact with the floor. “Open your mouth and sing your prayers.”
I open my mouth but hesitate. What does he mean when he says I should sing my prayers? He tells me. “Start the prayer about how mighty your God is.”
I catch on quickly and begin. “Heavenly Father, Your greatness is unsearchable. I stand in awe of Your power, Your wisdom, and Your love. Thank you for creating me—” And then my words are cut off.
He shoves his dick in my mouth. He wanted me to praise him like he is my God, and he is becoming just that.
I have no idea what to do. I’ve never had a man’s penis in my mouth. My brain shifts back to the times he’s done this to me. How it felt, what he did. I know I have to move. My tongue takes the lead. I swirl it around, feeling the girth of him. He has thick veins.
Pulling my head back, I continue to explore with my tongue.
I come to the end and discover he has his foreskin.
What does it look like? Even if I pulled off, I couldn’t see.
It’s too dark in here. The darkness is allowing me to be brave.
I grip him at the base, and he moans. Peppering kisses up and down his shaft, I feel him grow even thicker.
The sensation of him under my lips is other worldly.
A hand weaves into my hair and grips tight. My head is forced back. If I could see, I’d be staring into the soul of the Reaper. “Stop praising me and suck. I want you fighting for air.”
He’s back in my mouth with force. He wants me to suck, and that’s what I do. He’s directing me, but I want to continue to worship him. I hollow my cheeks and allow instinct to take over. His hand in my hair moves my head back and forth. I do nothing but suck and become a vessel for him to use.
Everything hurts. My jaw aches from being so open, my throat burns from the way he slams into it.
He wasn’t joking about my lack of oxygen.
He holds himself snuggly in the back. My muscles constrict, fighting the intrusion.
Tears fall from my eyes. My body fears I’ll die.
But I know I won’t. He won’t allow that.
He’s only pushing me as far as I can go.
A calm settles over me at that realization.
He may push me but he won’t let me fail.
And fail I won’t. I need him to know I trust him.
My hands rise up to his thighs, feeling the denim of the jeans he wears.
They move without me even thinking about it and come to rest behind him, firmly grasping his ass.
I push on them, forcing him even deeper down my throat.
All my air has officially been cut off. I don’t care.
“Fuck, you dirty boy.” His grip in my hair tightens. The sting excites me even more.
His cock jumps, and it encourages me on as well.
I push him as far back as I can take him and he loses all control.
The salty explosion floods my mouth. It’s so much I don’t think I can take it all.
I’ve tasted myself on his tongue, but his flavor is different.
It’s headier. If I was to drown, I would gladly it be by his seed.
I’m released and my body falls back. I cough and hack, guilty I couldn’t swallow it all.
Declan is on the ground the next moment, grabbing me and pulling me into an embrace. He rubs my head, soothing me. “You’re okay.” He’s consoling me, but why? I didn’t hate or have any issues with what we did. I fucking loved it.
“Talk to me, baby. Are you okay? I’m so sorry I took it too far.” He kisses my cheek.
I shake my head in disagreement. “I’m fine.” My voice sounds harsh and gritty. Clearly from the abuse my throat just took.
He’s apologizing while I feel alive. The most I’ve ever felt alive. I need more of this. More of him. I turn so I’m straddling him. My hands find his head and direct him to me. I kiss him with a ferocity I didn’t even know I possessed.