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It Hurts To Want More…
Last Updated:
2026-02-11 18:34:05
Latest chapter
The Reverend And His Plaything One Disaster…
Thorne.And God, I wanted her.Craved her in every way possible.Despite the whole fucked-up mess we were both drowning in, despite the storm of consequences waiting to crash down on us tomorrow, despite the collar still hanging in my wardrobe like a silent accusation, none of it mattered right now.All that mattered was her body against mine, warm and trembling, the way her scent wrapped around me like a drug I would never quit.I scooped her up before she could protest, arms under her thighs and back, lifting her like she weighed nothing.She let out a startled gasp, hands flying to my shoulders for balance.“God, Thorne, not now! Please!” she said, half laughing and half pleading as I carried her the few steps to the bed.“What are you thinking?” I asked in a low voice as I laid her down gently on the mattress.I slid in behind her immediately, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her flush against my chest. The other slipped under her head so it rested on my bicep like a pi
The Reverend And His Plaything A Fucking New Purpose…
Thorne.What was I going to say?I had always known what to say in difficult situations. Very difficult situations. Couples would come to me when the wife didn’t want another child while the husband longed for one, or even many. I would sit with them in the small counseling room, listen to their pain, their anger, their fear, and offer words that felt solid, words drawn from Scripture and years of hearing broken hearts. I could speak with calm certainty about sacrifice, about timing, about trusting God’s plan even when it hurt. But those were other people’s lives. Not mine.I was a priest meant to abstain from sex. Meant to commit every waking moment to God, to the Church, to the people who looked to me for guidance. And right now I stood in my own room with no words forming, no ready scripture, no practiced counsel. Mia stood in front of me, clutching the bottle of Scotch she had taken from my hand, the other wiping tears that kept falling no matter how fast she bru
The Reverend And His Plaything Something Of Yours…
Thorne.As Mia struggled to find the words for whatever the test results had shown, my phone rang. It rang once. My eyes stayed fixed on her face filling the laptop screen, searching every flicker of expression for clues. Then it rang again. I glanced down at the device beside the laptop, just long enough to see the caller ID.The bishop.I wasn’t expecting it. It was only a month until Christmas. Calls from him this early usually meant routine reminders about Advent schedules or minor parish updates. But something about the timing felt heavier. I knew his conversations could stretch long—questions about attendance numbers, the new school building in the church compound, how the youth group was holding up. Hours sometimes.Every nerve in me wanted the call to wait. I was speaking to Mia. Picking up now would mean excusing myself, stepping into the bathroom or the hallway, and risking the moment slipping away. I wasn’t going to miss this. Not when she looked l
The Reverend And His Plaything Hearing Her Truth..
Thorne.The morning Mass today felt like a strain in my throat. It was as if I were doing it for the first time—standing at the altar, committing myself to a place that had always felt like my own, my rightful space. I knew the parishioners had noticed something off. The people of San Malerio were too observant, too quick to sense when their priest wasn’t fully present. I could feel their eyes lingering during the homily, during the consecration, during the final blessing. They would have wanted to ask afterward—about my mood, about a line in the sermon that didn’t land quite right, about anything at all. But I walked back to the rectory as fast as my legs could carry me, avoiding every conversation, every concerned glance.I reached my room and called Mia again—for what felt like the hundredth time since dawn. The line either connected and rang endlessly without an answer, or it went straight to unavailable. I hated it. Every bone in my body cracked with frustratio
The Reverend And His Plaything Something Of Yours…
Mia.The doctor’s words still echoed in my head like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing. I had suspected—deep down, in the quiet moments when I let myself think too hard—but hearing it spoken out loud, clear and final, felt like a punch to the stomach. It reached into my core and twisted.I snatched the results from the doctor’s hand before she could offer any more gentle explanations. My eyes scanned the paper, line after line, even though I already knew what it said. From the corner of my vision, I could feel Grandma staring at me, waiting for me to react, waiting for me to say something that would make this make sense.“Is this a joke?” Grandma asked, her voice cracking on the last word. “Doctor, please tell us it’s a mistake. A terrible one. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend… or at least, I’m sure she’s never…” She swallowed the rest, turning to me in her chair, eyes wide and pleading.The doctor stayed quiet, her gaze moving carefully between us, professional but kind.I could
The Reverend And His Plaything Baby For The Reverend…
Mia.I woke up to a throbbing pain in my head. The meds Grandma had given me the night before hadn’t touched it at all. If anything, the ache had settled deeper, sharper, like it had roots now. My whole body felt heavy and sore, a dull fire rolling through every muscle and joint, making even the simple act of breathing feel like work.I wasn’t even sure what was happening to me anymore. I’d told myself it was just the final college exams—the late nights, the stress, the pressure of finishing everything. But it didn’t feel like that now. It felt bigger. Heavier. Something I couldn’t name.“Mia…” Grandma’s voice came soft through the door before she pushed it open and stepped inside.“You’re awake now,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of my bed.I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself up to sit. “Yeah… I woke up a few minutes ago,” I told her.She studied my face, concern creasing her forehead. “How about the fever? Has it gone down? Looking at you,
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