The sharp knock on the door made both of us spin toward the brown wood.
"Dianne, open up! We're back!"
My blood ran cold. Tasha's earlier words about the hickeys on my neck crashed into me like lightning.
"Shit."
I bolted upright, panic twisting in my stomach, and rushed toward my room. My voice dropped to a desperate whisper as I brushed my fingers over the tender marks on my skin.
"I need to cover this up." I turned to her quickly. "Open the door for me instead."
Tasha nodded instantly, already prepared to shield me.
"Go. I'll cover for you," she whispered back.
Grateful, I dashed into my room, my heart hammering. Thank God it had been Tasha who saw the hickeys first, not my parents.
The sound of the front door opening filled the apartment, my parents' voices warm and familiar as they greeted Tasha. She smoothly told them I'd just slipped into the bathroom.
I exhaled shakily and yanked open my wardrobe, pulling out a hoodie with trembling hands. I ran to the mirror. My breath caught. Four. Four dark, possessive hickeys stained my throat exactly as she'd described.
My fingers lingered over them, and memories came flooding back, his mouth, his teeth, Father Chris sucking and biting as though I belonged to him.
A shiver rocked me.
I dragged the hoodie over my head, tugging the neck high to hide the evidence, just as footsteps crept close to my door. My heart stopped. I swung the door open fast,
No one.
I breathed in and out, forcing calm into my body, before stepping back into the living room.
My mother's hand rested over Tasha's gently. "How are you feeling now?" she asked softly.
"I'm fine," Tasha lied smoothly. "I took my medication, and now I feel much better."
Mother nodded, pleased. But Tasha's eyes cut to mine. We both knew it wasn't true. She hadn't been sick yesterday. Or today.
My father's laughter broke through the moment as he pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight. "Oh, my daughter, I missed you."
I smiled against his shoulder, tapping his back. We never failed to text each other, but still—I whispered, "Me too, Dad."
He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead warmly. His suitcase sat by his side, his smile radiating pride.
"Dianne? Your phone is buzzing," my mother suddenly called. She held it up. "It's an unknown number. You didn't save it."
My stomach flipped violently. Father Chris.
I strode over quickly and snatched it from her hands. "I'll be right back," I murmured, forcing a smile before rushing to my room.
The door closed behind me. My fingers trembled as I answered. "Hello?" My voice was barely a breath.
Silence. Then—
"Am I speaking to my Angel?"
My throat tightened. Heat coiled inside me, curling in my chest as I whispered, "Yes. You are."
Joy burst through me at the sound of his voice.
"Father Chris?" I breathed, though I already knew.
"Yes, my Angel," his deep, smooth voice poured through the speaker. "I miss you. The taste of your skin is still on my tongue. I want to grab you, press you, suck your breasts until you cry my name. Yesterday…" He groaned low, sinful. "Yesterday was heaven. And you are the heaven I want to live in forever."
My head spun. He always knew how to use his words, how to wreck me with them.
"I dreamt of you all night," he confessed.
Tears burned my eyes. Me too. I had dreamed of him, day and night, even before last night.
"I'm glad you want me too," I whispered, heart pounding, remembering how shamelessly I had begged him to be inside me.
I sank onto the bed, stomach tight, my voice breaking with raw need. "Yes. Every day. Every time."
I could hear the smile in his tone.
"You know, I've been staring at your red panties all night. All day. Like they're a work of art." The snap of the fabric echoed faintly through the phone. "I think they belong in my robe pocket forever. To remind me of the first night we shared together… in church."
My breath caught. My mind screamed. My heart raced. My body throbbed, already wet for him.
"Father Chris, you turn me on," I confessed. My voice shook with hunger.
His quiet laugh slid through me. "Good. Because you still haven't experienced what I can truly do to you. I would drive you so hard you'd forget yourself completely."
My back fell against the bed. My legs trembled violently. His words… God, his words. I cried silently as my body heated beyond control.
"I want that now," I blurted. "Where are you? I'll come over if you tell me to."
I could almost see his smirk. "In my room. Lying on the bed in my white robes. Preparing to leave for a meeting."
But my mind flashed to the memory of the old priest who had walked in on us.
"I forgot to ask," I whispered breathlessly. "The priest, did he see us? Did he see you smack my butt?"
Father Chris chuckled low. "I doubt it."
I pictured it clearly. Him stepping over my red panties on the church floor after I'd fled, telling the priest calmly about the next day's meeting, his holy façade flawless. Only when the man left did he pick up my panties, slide them into his robe, trace the sign of the cross, mutter a prayer… and walk away, grinning, sin blazing in his veins.
I exhaled with relief. "Thank God."
"Where are you right now?" he asked.
"In my room," I answered without hesitation. "Craving your touch. Wanting your body. I could make an excuse, slip to you now if you said the words. Just let me take your cock into my mouth. Just a minute, before your meeting. Please."
His dark laugh curled through the line. "A minute? Angel, if we start, we wouldn't stop for a whole day. Different positions, different styles, until you can't walk. Until I'm satisfied. And I don't get satisfied easily."
A sharp inhale tore from me. This was too much. Too good. Too dangerous.
"Take off your clothes," he ordered, voice deep and smooth.
My ears pounded as my hands obeyed before my mind could catch up. Hoodie. Top. Pants. All gone. I lay naked across the sheets, waiting, trembling.
"Rub your breasts. Pinch your nipples. I want to hear you moan."
A broken cry slipped from me as I obeyed, my pussy already drenched.
"Father Chris," I whimpered, imagining him here, touching me.
"Shh. Slide your fingers into your wetness," he murmured darkly.
My body shook. How did he always know? My fingers slipped inside, thrusting deeper and deeper until moans fell freely from my lips.
"Now," his voice sharpened, "take your wetness and smear it up to your stomach, straight to your nipple. Squeeze. Hard."
"Oh God," I gasped, obeying, groaning at the intensity as pleasure ripped through me.
"I'm going to video call you," he said suddenly. "Pick up immediately. I want to show you something."
The line went dead. Seconds later, it buzzed again.
I grabbed it with shaking hands.
His face filled the screen. The sight of him made me ache.
"Dianne," he whispered. "You look so beautiful. So innocent."
I wasn't innocent. Not anymore.
"What do you want to show me?" I asked breathlessly, sprawled naked on my sheets.
His sinful smile twisted as he angled the phone down. His robe fell aside, his trousers lowered. His cock sprang free, thick, hard, glistening.
"This," he growled.
My eyes widened in disbelief. I'd only stroked it last night, I hadn't truly seen it. Big. Heavy. Dripping. God, I wanted it in my mouth, choking me.
"Father Chris," I whispered, my voice breaking.
He smeared fluid over the screen, then grabbed my red panties, thrusting his cock into the fabric. The sight of it soaked, ruined, made me dizzy.
"Lift your legs. Show me your pussy," he commanded.
I obeyed, raising my feet high, spreading myself wide for the camera.
"You look delicious, Angel," he breathed.
My finger slid deeper inside me, moans spilling as I stared at him. His gaze was dark, hungry, burning through me.
"Imagine me pinning your head down, your ass in the air, as I fuck you hard," he growled. "My hands gripping your waist. Smacking your ass mercilessly."
"Father Chris!" I nearly screamed, forgetting everything, my parents, the house, the world. I didn't care. I only wanted him.
"My teeth biting your nipples until you cry. My hands tearing at your breasts."
Tears of pleasure burned my eyes.
"Smack your breast," he ordered.
I obeyed. Pain laced with pleasure made me moan.
"Again!" he demanded, and I did, my body on fire.
"You're the only one I want to fuck as a priest. To cum inside of. Over and over."
"Please," I begged, choking on my sobs. "Please, let's just fuck today. I need you. I need you to ruin me."
"Dianne," he growled my name, stroking his cock on camera, making sure I saw every movement. My body throbbed with hunger. That was all I wanted. To eat him. To devour him.
"Take the phone to your pussy. Four fingers. Now."
"Oh God," I whimpered. But I did it. All four slid inside me, stretching me wide, making my eyes roll back.
"Deeper," he snarled
I obeyed, my body convulsing, shivering with ecstasy.
"Faster."
My breath came shallow and quick as I pounded myself, the sound of my wetness filling the room, my body bouncing on the bed.
He watched everything. Controlled everything.
I could barely breathe, imagining his cock inside me, bigger than my own hand could ever simulate. My body bucked helplessly, lost in his command.
Then—
"Dianne, oh my God."
My head whipped to the door.
Tasha.
Her eyes widened in astonishment, a shocked smile spreading across her face as she took in the sight of me, naked, legs spread, fingers buried inside, phone angled toward my pussy.
She looked almost delighted. "Are you… are you sex video calling?!" she squealed softly, rushing to lock the door.
I rolled my eyes, heat flooding me, throat dry. God, I needed water.
"You've been gone for almost an hour," she said, grinning. "I came to check on you. Your parents are—oh wow." Her voice trailed off as her eyes devoured me, still sprawled out on the bed, my skin glistening, the smell of sex filling the air.
"Who are you calling? Is he naked too?" she whispered eagerly.
I turned my phone back toward the screen.
"Father Chris," I murmured softly, ignoring her, my heart racing. "See you soon."
He kissed the screen, sinful and tender, before the call ended.
Silence.
"Father Chris?" Tasha repeated, stunned.
Shit. My stomach dropped. I hadn't meant to say his name out loud.
Her eyes burned into mine, disbelief written all over her face.
"Did you just say… Father Chris?"