All Chapters of The Reverend And His Plaything : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Thorne.I couldn’t let it fester like this. After a few hours of school dragging on like some divine punishment, the final bell rang, and I grabbed my stuff, heading out with one goal: find Mia, talk to her, smooth over the rough edges from that damn vacation talk. She’d been angry—fuck, I could feel it radiating off her when she left my office—and I couldn’t stand the idea of her stewing on it. Silly or not, it was eating at me, twisting my gut. Two nights ago, we’d been tangled in my bed, her body arching under mine, and now this distance? No. I needed to calm the storm before it built into something I couldn’t control.The hallway was a swarm of students chattering about weekend plans or tests, but there wasn’t a trace of her—no blonde hair bobbing in the crowd, no quick glance over her shoulder like she sensed me coming. I kept moving, nodding at a couple of professors who cornered me about the upcoming faculty meeting, their voices droning on about schedules while my mind

Thorne.In less than ten minutes, I was in my car, engine humming as I peeled out of the school parking lot, heading back to the church like it was the only sanctuary left that didn’t feel tainted by this mess. I’d stood there, rooted to the spot, watching Mia slide into Luca’s passenger seat with that casual flip of her hair, the door slamming shut like a punctuation mark on my stupidity. They drove off, his car kicking up a little dust, and I felt it in my gut—a sharp, twisting pull that had nothing to do with brotherly concern and everything to do with the green-eyed beast clawing at my insides. Fuck, if jealousy had a flavor, it was bitter as hell right now.I didn’t even remember the drive. The road blurred, trees whipping by in a haze, my mind stuck on replay: her laugh as she got in, Luca’s smirk as he revved the engine. By the time I pulled into the church compound, the sun was dipping low, casting long over the steeple like accusatory fingers. Part of me wanted to veer o

Thorne. For half a couple of minutes, I just stared at Mia on the screen, her face filling the laptop like a lifeline I’d been drowning without. The only word I’d managed to breathe out since she popped up was her name, hanging there like a prayer I didn’t know how to finish. Her eyes looked tired, but that spark was still there, the one that always pulled me in deeper than I should go.“I was busy with grandma in the kitchen when your call came up. And I couldn’t pick it up since she was around,” she said, gesturing around her room like it was proof. “I’m in my room right now.”“I can see that. What have you been up to? The break? What have you been doing with it? And Mia, I’ve decided that I’d be taking a break—maybe to fit in with the few days you’d be spending at home,” I said, making sure to slip in that last part. It was the olive branch I’d been turning over in my head all morning—the genesis of our mess, that stupid vacation fight that had left me hard and aching without h

Thorne.The heavy church doors thudded shut behind me, the sound echoing through the empty nave like a final amen. The dim lights on the ceiling cast a soft, golden haze, barely pushing back the encroaching dark of evening. No mass tonight, so the place was deserted—or so I thought. Silence wrapped around me, broken only by the faint creak of my footsteps on the stone floor as I moved toward the altar, seeking some shred of peace in the quiet.But two minutes in, that illusion shattered. Someone was there, kneeling on the padded rail right in front of the altar, back to me, head bowed in what looked like deep prayer. I approached quietly, not wanting to intrude on their moment with God—my own soul was tangled enough without adding disruption to someone else’s.Closer now, the figure came into focus—a woman, her shoulders shaking slightly, blonde hair cascading like a veil over her back. Then the soft sobs hit me, muffled but unmistakable, words tumbling out in broken whispers.

Thorne. “Yes… please…” she breathed out, her voice a shaky whisper that hit me like permission for eternity, like she was handing over her soul along with her body. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t let the moment slip—spun her around in one swift motion, her chest pressing against the cool tile, hips lifting as I snaked my arm under her waist, hoisting her ass up high. She balanced on her elbows, back arched in that perfect curve, her jeans shoved down just enough to expose her, that pink, untouched hole winking at me in the dim light, tight and begging to be claimed. My cock strained harder, concrete-solid and throbbing with a need that bordered on madness.“Fuck…” I groaned, my hands spreading her asscheeks wide, thumbs circling the rim slow and deliberate, feeling the heat radiate from her, the way her body quivered under my touch. She was so vulnerable like this, laid out in front of the altar, the crucifix casting its shadow over us like a silent judge. But guilt was a distant ec