Todos os capítulos de The Reverend And His Plaything : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

Mia. The day crawled by in a haze of lectures and note-taking that I barely registered. Every class felt endless; I kept shifting in my seat, thighs pressing tight together to ease the insistent ache Thorne had left behind. The slickness hadn’t let up—warm, shameless evidence of him that made me hyper-aware of every little movement. A few times I caught myself rocking subtly against the chair, chasing friction I couldn’t quite get. Luca sat right beside me, scribbling notes like the perfect student, but I swore I felt his gaze flick over once or twice—sharp, curious. Or maybe I was paranoid. Either way, I bolted the second the final bell rang.I was halfway down the crowded hall, weaving through bodies, heart already racing toward the parking lot and whatever stolen moments I could grab with Thorne, when a soft voice cut through the noise.“Mia!”I stopped, turning to see her—Emma—hurrying toward me. She was the quiet one in class, always tucked in the back corner with her noteboo

Thorne.“Fuck,” I groaned, the word ripping out of me as Mary dropped to her knees, her fingers already hooked into my waistband like she had every right.“This isn’t the time, Mary,” I rasped, voice gravel-rough, but my body betrayed me—cock swelling harder under her gaze, straining against the fabric as she unbuckled my belt with agonizing slowness. Her hands skimmed my hips, teasing the skin just above, and the heat of her palms alone had me throbbing.She looked up, eyes dark with that familiar hunger. “There’s never a perfect moment to suck you off, padre,” she whispered, tugging my trousers and boxers down in one smooth pull. “I’m addicted. You ruined me this morning… now let me pay you back.”Cool air rushed over my exposed length, a sharp shock that made it twitch, standing rigid and heavy in the dim light of the office. Precum already glistened at the tip, betraying how fast she’d gotten me there.“And besides…” She paused, wrapping her slender fingers around my shaft—warm,

Mia. Saturday dragged like a bad confession—slow, heavy, full of things I couldn’t say out loud. Grandma was in the kitchen humming old hymns while she packed her usual casserole for the parish women’s meeting. The whole house smelled like baked cheese and rosemary, comforting in that familiar way, but it did nothing to settle the restless ache under my skin.I hadn’t seen Thorne since that day in his office. Not a glimpse. Not a text. My calls went straight to voicemail, each unanswered ring twisting the knife deeper. I kept checking my phone like some pathetic addict, refreshing the screen even when I knew nothing would be there. Tomorrow was Sunday—mass, the one place I was guaranteed to lay eyes on him—but tomorrow felt a lifetime away. My mind kept spiraling to dark places; Was he avoiding me on purpose? Had someone seen something? Or worse… was he with someone else?The assignment with Emma last night had been torture. I’d sat across from her at the dining table, nodding whe

Mia.It felt like forever—ten agonizing minutes of kneeling in the dim confessional, the wooden kneeler digging into my skin, air thick with wax and silence. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying that smile he’d given her. The young nun. The way her hand lingered when she passed him the prayer book. What the hell were they talking about for so long while people waited for confession? Laughing about something private? Planning shifts together? The jealousy gnawed deeper with every second.Then the door on his side creaked open. Fabric rustled as he settled. I held my breath, staring at the shadowed screen. He couldn’t see me—not clearly—unless he leaned close to the small grate. I stayed silent until I was sure he was seated.He made the sign of the cross, voice low and steady. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”A pause.“You may begin. Tell me your sins.”My throat tightened. I had one sin. Him. All of him. But the words that slipped out weren’

Thorne.I cut across the shadowed lawn toward the back garden, footsteps quick and quiet on the damp grass. The air had cooled, carrying the faint scent of roses and freshly turned earth from the new construction. Every nerve in me pulled forward—Mia was there. I knew it the way I knew my own pulse. She’d wait, stubborn and aching, just like I’d told her to.I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve lingered in the hall until Mary returned to the sisters’ quarters, until the last car crunched down the gravel drive and the grounds were empty. But patience had burned out of me the second Mrs. Voss left. Need overrode sense. One more minute without touching Mia felt unbearable.“Why are you walking that way, padre?”Mary’s voice floated from behind me—soft, curious, too close. I stopped, shoulders tightening, and turned slowly. She stood under the weak glow of a pathway lamp, habit stirring in the breeze, hands folded neatly in front of her. That serene face, those dark eyes watchin