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Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) 6
6Amelia.The church is different at midnight.It’s not just the emptiness, or the way the shadows grow longer and softer, spilling over marble floors and stained glass. It’s the silence—thicker, deeper, like it’s waiting for something to happen. I moved through the dark sanctuary, barefoot, my heart fluttering in my chest, each step a prayer and a dare. Candles flickered along the aisles, dozens of them, gold and trembling, painting the pews in shifting light.He was here. I could feel it in the air, the tension.I found him at the organ, his back to me, fingers drifting over the keys. The sound was quiet and gentle, like a melody I didn’t recognize, something ancient and haunting that made my skin prickle. Nathan Carter belonged to this church even more than my father did. He filled the space with his presence, with his will, bending it all around him like smoke.He didn’t look up as I drew closer, he only spoke, voice soft but certain, vibrating through the empty sanctuary. “Couldn’
Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) 5
5AmeliaGuilt is heavier than sin.It sits in my chest, dense and dark, every time I see my father’s eyes linger too long on my face. I feel it when I kneel at the altar, when I touch the hymnal, when I hear my mother’s gentle voice and think of everything I’ve let Nathan Carter do to me. When I wake up in the morning, the ache between my thighs is a physical reminder of every secret I can’t let go.After choir camp, I tried to be good.I tried to pray the memory of him out of my skin. I tried to eat with my family, laugh at my mother’s jokes, listen when my father talked about grace and second chances. But none of it worked. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nathan—the way he pinned me against the tree, the look in his eyes when he called me his, the sound of his voice wrecked with want.So I went to the only place I thought might save me.The church was empty. It was late afternoon sunlight crawling through the stained glass, dust floating in the golden hush. I pressed my hand to m
Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) 4
4Amelia.If my father knew the things I thought about during prayer, he’d never let me leave the house again.But here I was, packed in a van with the rest of the choir, winding our way up a mountain road for a “weekend of fellowship.” I pretended to be excited, laughing at jokes, squeezing hands, humming along to guitar chords. But the only thing I felt was that electric buzz under my skin—the one I only got when Nathan Carter looked at me like I was his favorite secret.The camp was tucked away in the trees, old wooden cabins and a big fire pit surrounded by logs. The air was sweet with pine and someone’s cheap cologne. Night came fast, swallowing the sky in blue and silver. Our first evening blurred together: choral warmups, marshmallows, awkward games. Nathan watched over everything, strict but playful, that careful balance that made the other girls giggle and the guys try too hard. I did my best to ignore him, but I felt his eyes on me all night.When the bonfire finally blazed,
Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) 3
3Amelia.You never forget what holy water feels like, even as an adult. The chill, the weight, the way it seeps through thin cotton and clings to every inch of skin. I’d been baptized as a baby, but this was different. This was a spectacle.I tried not to shiver as I stood at the edge of the baptismal pool, sunlight painting gold halos on the marble, my white dress clinging to my legs. My father’s voice rolled through the congregation, gentle and booming all at once, but I could barely hear him over the thud of my own heart.I was supposed to look pure. Redeemed. I glanced at the pews—faces shining up at me, smiling, proud. None of them knew. Not my mother. Not my friends. Not even the little girl I used to be. And certainly not my father, whose hands held mine as I waded into the water.But Nathan Carter was there, front row. His eyes never left me, dark and hungry, the corner of his mouth curved in that secret, dangerous way. I wondered if he knew how it felt to be washed clean in
Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) 2
2Amelia.I didn’t sleep. Not really. Not with the feeling of him—his mouth, his hands, the bruises left on my hips—pressed into my skin like a fever. I replayed every minute from last night, every sharp gasp and every sin, shivering under my sheets while the memory of him flooded me again and again. My thighs ached. I was sure my voice would never sound the same again.I was worse in the morning. My father sat across from me at breakfast, pouring coffee, glancing at my empty plate. My mother prattled on about choir, about Mr. Carter, about how “blessed” we were to have him, about what a leader he was for the youth. I stared down at my hands, praying they couldn’t see the truth written all over me.I was grateful when I could finally slip out of the house, lie about needing to practice. My heart pounded the whole way there, my breath shaky and shallow, hope and fear twining together so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart.The church was never truly empty. But on weekday mornings, sunlig
Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) Married x intern
1Amelia.If there’s a particular way to breathe in church, I never learned it, but I learned how to fake it.The hymnbook in my hands felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the way every sound in the empty sanctuary echoed—my nervous laughter, the low hum of the organ, the shuffle of worn choir robes. Or maybe it was just him, stalking the aisles, one sharp look making everyone stand straighter.Mr. Carter—“Nathan” to the adults, “sir” to everyone else—was everything my father warned me about without ever saying a word. Ruthless. Intense. Charismatic in that way that made you want to please him, or at least not disappoint him. He’d only been here a year, but the choir would have followed him straight into the flames.And tonight, for some reason, his eyes kept landing on me.Maybe it was my fault. I came back from university with a different voice, a little more confidence, a skirt that felt a little too short. Mom said I’d grown up. Dad said nothing at all, which said everything. I co
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