All Chapters of Kiss me 2.1: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

144 Chapters

Chapter 51 — Confessions of a Desire

The Forbidden ConfessionsClémence lives for these moments stolen from the silence of the church. Faithful her whole life, she feels an intense disturbance every time she meets the gaze of the young priest Gabriel. His rigor, his contained gentleness, and that mixture of power and control awaken in her a desire she cannot repress.At each confession, Clémence feels her body shiver, her heart race. She repeats the gestures of devotion, but her thoughts always wander toward the priest. She becomes obsessed with him, imagining their hands brushing, their breaths mingling, every silence of the church becoming a theater of forbidden fantasies.This obsession drives her to seek pretexts to get closer, to test her limits and Gabriel's, subtly provoking him, playing with danger and guilt. She is fascinated by the priest's inner struggle, his battle between faith and desire, and takes secret pleasure in watching his barriers waver.Clémence is the muse and instigator of this clandestine passio

Chapter 52 — The Trial of Prayers

ClémenceThe night seemed endless. I closed my eyes dozens of times, but each time sleep threatened to come, his face appeared behind my eyelids. I saw his lips, his gaze that pierces the silence, his hands that seemed made to bless and condemn simultaneously. With every beat of my heart, I felt it beat for him.By morning, my eyelids are heavy, but my mind is on alert, obsessed. I feel like I've crossed an arid desert, a desert burned by the fire of desire. My thoughts are dry, my body empty, and my chest so heavy I struggle to breathe. I know I will give in: I will go back to the church. Not because my faith demands reparation, but because my desire demands its poison.I should be elsewhere. I'm a teacher in a small neighborhood school, and I'm supposed to give a reading lesson to my seven-year-old students this morning. Their boundless energy, their eyes bright with curiosity, their voices rising all at once… normally, all this anchors me in a reassuring reality. But today, even th

Chapter 53 — The Prayers Misguided

ClémenceNight falls, and I already feel condemned. His words resonate within me: "You will recite ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers…" Like an order engraved in my flesh. But the more I hear them, the more they blend with his own timbre, as if Gabriel hadn't given me a spiritual trial, but an intimate injunction, almost carnal.I close the door to my apartment, this modest refuge where every piece of furniture feels foreign, too silent. My desk is piled with schoolbooks I should be grading, but I can't. How can I focus on spelling mistakes when I'm dying to speak his name, to imagine his lips so close to mine?I sit on the edge of my bed. I clasp my hands like an eager child, close my eyes. The prayer begins.— Hail Mary, full of grace…The first phrase slips off my tongue, but instantly an image appears: Gabriel, his fingers touching the wood of the confessional, his eyes so deep a brown they seem to swallow the world.— The Lord is with thee…I see him, not in his priestly vestment

Chapter 54 — The Edge of the Knife

CLÉMENCEAll day, I thought of nothing else. Of him. Of that silence in the confessional where every word, every breath from him becomes a shiver on my skin. And of that phrase: "Not only for yourself… but for me too."Those words haunt me. I've turned them over in my mind a thousand times. For me too. What does that mean? Does he even realize what he let me glimpse?I can no longer breathe without feeling him near me, even in his absence. So tonight, I've decided. I want to know if this turmoil is real, if it exists in him as it does in me. I want to see him crack, just once.I open my wardrobe and choose my lightest dress. Not indecent , I don't want him to accuse me of immodesty , but the fabric hugs my curves, and the neckline hints at my chest without revealing it. I run my fingers over the fabric, hesitate for a second, then put it on. A discreet scent on my neck, a touch of color on my lips, almost nothing. Just enough so

Chapter 55 — The Abyss

CLÉMENCETwo weeks.Two weeks without seeing him.Since that night when I felt him waver, Gabriel has vanished. Not a glance in the church, not a word in the confessional. I waited for him, through every mass, every prayer, every held breath. In vain.They whisper that he's helping a neighboring parish, that he was sent for temporary missions. Perhaps. Or perhaps he's fleeing what he couldn't contain that night.At first, I thought his absence would quell this fire in me. I convinced myself that time would be enough to extinguish the obsession. But each day without him only stoked the blaze. The more I knew he was far, the more I felt him present, anchored beneath my skin. I endlessly relive that short breath, that hand clenched on my shoulder, that "almost" that left me on the edge of the abyss.And then, this Sunday, he is there.At first, I only glimpse him in a turn of the crowd, a familiar silhouette among others

Chapter 56 — The Fire from the Pulpit

GABRIELThe Sunday bell rings, clear, relentless.I hear each strike as a reminder, a warning.My hands tremble as I put on the chasuble. I hide them in the folds of the fabric, as if I could mask the shiver gnawing at me.The sacristy is silent, only traversed by the familiar smell of wax and incense. I take refuge there for a few more seconds, hoping this brief respite will suffice to stifle the turmoil within me.But nothing works. The echo of her lips still burns against mine.I close my eyes. Breathe deeply.— Lord, give me strength, I murmur. Extinguish this fire.But when I open my eyes again, I already know He will not answer.---The church is packed. The faithful crowd the pews, children whisper, faces turn towards me with expectation.And among them… her.Clémence is there, in the third row.She is not praying. She is watching me.Not with insolence. Not

Chapter 57 — The Night of Sacrilege

GABRIELThe rain has been relentless since the mass.It beats against the rectory windows as if heaven itself wants to punish me.Each drop is a blow to my conscience, a voice repeating: Sinner. Traitor.I tore off my cassock when I got home, unable to bear the black fabric sticking to my skin like a reproach.I threw myself under a burning shower, hoping the water would wash away what I feel.But the more the heat envelops me, the more it reminds me of her heat.Clémence.Her eyes are there, behind my eyelids.Her lips, I still feel them on my cheek, on my mouth, ghosts of our last exchanges.I pushed her away, I swore I'd never let her near again.And yet…A sharp crack.My fist slams against the tile.The pain radiates, but it's not enough.— Lord… tear this desire from me… or tear my life from me…Silence answers me.A silence

Chapter 58 — The Sweet Rupture

CLÉMENCEHe is inside me.Finally.And he fucks me as if it were the only way to erase me.His first thrust is a thunderclap, tearing me open in one go, deep, merciless. A hoarse cry is torn from my throat, uncontrollable. My thighs clench around his hips, drawing him in even harder. He growls, animal, his fingers digging into my flesh.— Fuck… Clémence…His voice trembles, low, strangled. No tenderness, nothing but a burning rage and a desire he tries to smother under brutality. His hips slap against mine with a violent, sharp, steady rhythm that makes me lose all control.Each time he thrusts, I feel myself splitting, opening wider. Pain mingles with pleasure, inseparable, and I surrender to it.I arch beneath him, grab his rain-soaked hair, pull it back roughly.— Harder, Gabriel… more…He crushes me under his weight, his hands pinning me to the ma

Chapter 59 — The Ashes

GABRIELSilence is a blade.It sinks into me deeper than her cries, deeper than her body. It burns me from within.I am still inside her. I feel it. And already hatred returns, dull, suffocating, like an oil slick overwhelming me.I pull away with a sharp, almost violent gesture. She barely moans, a cut-off breath, and her body falls heavily back onto the rumpled mattress. Her breath is short, ragged. Her thighs remain slightly parted, marked by my hands, by my rage.I feel like vomiting.I straighten up, stagger, sweat drips from my neck to my lower back. My heart pounds so hard I feel it might burst. My hands still tremble. I look at them as if they don't belong to me.A man's hands. Or a monster's.She turns her head towards me. Her eyes gleam in the half-light, still wet. And that smile. That fucking smile, faint, almost invisible. As if she'd won.— Don't… don't look at me like that.My v

Chapter 60 — The Intoxication

CLÉMENCEI walk in the rain, arms tight around my chest, unable to contain the smile devouring me. The night clings to my skin, drops stream through my tangled hair, but I don't care. Everything still burns inside me. Every step echoes like a victory.He took me. Finally.I still feel his weight, his heat, his violence. The marks of his hands on my hips, the bite of his fingers on my wrist, his deep thrusts that broke and revealed me at the same time. Nothing can erase that. Not even his hatred.I reach my door, drenched, breathless. I slide the key in, enter my dark apartment. Silence welcomes me, soft, reassuring. I let my clothes fall to the floor, one by one, without a thought. My bare feet stick to the parquet.The bathroom draws me like a refuge. I turn on the tap, scalding water gushes out. I slip under the shower, close my eyes. The water flows over my skin, washing away sweat, salt, the smell of his body. But nothing e

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