All Chapters of The Reverend And His Plaything : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Thorne.“I’m still leaving for London,” Mia said immediately as I lay beside her on the floor. It was almost 9:30 PM, and there was everything wrong with us sprawled naked like this—bodies tangled, sweat cooling on our skin, the altar’s shadow creeping over us like a silent accusation. But instead of panic spiking about getting caught or the blasphemy we’d just committed, my stomach churned, twisting viciously at her words, like she’d punched the air out of me.She’d said it like a reminder, as if to drive home that no matter how savagely I’d just fucked her, how I’d claimed every inch of her asshole with my cock, stretching her tight hole until she screamed and clenched around me, it wouldn’t change a thing. She wasn’t staying. But damn it, I could fuck her again if that’s what it took to sway her—pin her down, slide back into that slick heat, make her beg until she forgot London existed. Yet I hated this selfish streak surging through me, the one that wanted to keep her chained

Thorne. “I’m so wet. I’m a mess, Thorne,” she said between moans, her voice cracking with that desperate edge as she fingered herself relentlessly, her fingers plunging deep, curling in that way that made her thighs quiver on the screen.I could see it all—those slender digits disappearing into her glistening folds, thrusting with abandon, her eyes squeezing shut as pleasure built. “No, open them. Open those eyes. I want you to see how much you’re dripping. How much you’ve made me lose it too,” I said, my voice thick, my hand pumping my shaft in time with her movements, the slick sound of skin on skin echoing from both sides.“Oh… please keep moaning. I want to hear my name from you,” she told me, her breaths ragged, her free hand pinching her nipple, twisting it until she arched off the bed.“Naughty girl. Fuck… look at how much juices you have there… and I can’t help but feel that I need to be there… to eat you up. I want to devour your pussy, Mia,” I groaned, my strokes quickenin

Mia. “More… Thorne, I need you inside me,” I begged, his strokes deep in my cunt turning urgent, his knuckles grazing my clit with every powerful thrust of his fingers.It felt hot.It was burning.It was all I wanted—his hand buried inside me, filling that aching void. I’d schemed so many ways, whispered so many words to convince my mother to come to Italy. She’d been stubborn at first, hating the town, resenting the need to relearn the local dialect. She despised that my father, her first husband—an Italian—had cheated on her right here in San Malerio one Christmas.She’d said fingers were pointed at her, that it was her fault for making him stray, for trying to live like a foreigner.Here in Malerio, people seemed nice, but they were judgmental as hell. One slip, and they’d brand you the devil incarnate.And I couldn’t stop wondering—would they see me as the devil’s child if they knew I’d been fucking their priest?“Fuck…” I cried out, spreading my legs wider for him, draping

Thorne. “Take off your panties,” I repeated more slowly, letting each word roll out low and deliberate, the command hanging between us like smoke.“And if I don’t?” she asked, her tone dripping with challenge, thick with sex, daring me to show exactly how far I’d unravel just to watch her spread those legs.“You’d ruin me,” I said, the admission scraping out rough and low. “I’d be ruined, Mia. I wouldn’t think straight. I couldn’t sit here watching you eat another bite or take another sip of that wine—the same color as your fucking lips. I’m already a mess. You did this to me.”Her heel dragged harder against the front of my trousers, slow circles that pressed right where I ached most. It had been hard the moment she walked in, but now it was concrete—throbbing, straining, leaking against the fabric, begging for relief I couldn’t give it here.To the rest of the small, upscale restaurant in San Malerio, I was still Father Thorne—their priest—sharing a quiet lunch with a parishione

Thorne. She tried to reach her fingers toward her pussy, desperate to touch herself, to chase more of that aching pleasure. But how could I let her take what belonged to me? That cunt was mine to fill, mine to ruin. I caught her wrist before she could make contact, pinning it to the tile with a firm grip.“No, Mia. Don’t touch yourself. Grab my cock with both hands and stroke it… suck it. It’s your reward.”Her eyes flared with need, pupils blown wide as she obeyed instantly, wrapping her fingers around my length—both hands, stroking slow and firm from base to tip. The heat of her palms, the slight tremble in her grip, had me groaning low in my throat. She leaned in, lips parting, and took the head into her mouth again, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down, taking me deeper.“Oh my God,” I moaned, hips jerking forward on instinct as she sucked harder, cheeks hollowing with every pull. Spit bubbled at the corners of her lips, dripping onto her bare chest, rolling i