All Chapters of Saints Don't Moan: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

• Penelope • “Who is it?” His voice carried from the kitchen. “ I didn’t answer. Not because I couldn’t, but because my brain was still buffering—trying to decide if it had actually loaded the scene in front of me correctly. The woman on the porch just stared blankly at me, her nipples still fighting to free themselves from her ridiculous outfit choices. Had she by chance mistaken the house for Paris Fashion Week? “Is Miguel home?” she asked again, her smile cutting straight through me—the kind of smile that politely tells you you’re irrelevant. Before I could decide whether to shut the door or throw water at her, Miguel’s footsteps came down the hall. When he appeared, now clothed but his hair was still damp from sweat—his whole demeanor shifted. It wasn't shock or anger. It was more like irritation and something more extreme… disgust? “Claudia.” His tone was clipped, like the name itself left a bad taste in his mouth. Her smile deepened. “I decided to stop by. Yo

Miguel She was surprised, I could tell by the way she looked around like this was all foreign to her. She had expected some rundown clinic with no amenities but I had managed to stun her with a functional hospital. I walked through long hallways, avoiding the nurses that swarmed past with their carts. When we got to the very end of it, I stopped in front of an oak door. As I placed my hand on the knob to open it, she placed her hand over mine. I looked at her, wondering if she knew how scintillating that touch had to be for me. A naughty smile crossed my lips. She had not always been a nun. She had lived a rather dangerous life before all this so of course my little shell was teasing me and I had to say that she was enjoying it very much. “What? Think we're going to do naughty things behind that door?” I teased her. She slapped my hand but I did not miss the blush that painted her face a hot red. The sting of her slap did not go away immediately but the pain was welcome. Any to

Miguel I blinked severally because it felt like I was dreaming. I knew the face that stood coyly in front of me but I could not remember the name. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to introduce herself and state her purpose in my office. “I'm sister Matilda,” she said with a smile, “from St Jude's convent in New York? We have met a couple times already.” I stared at her blankly, still confused, wondering why the hell she was here. Until, Father Jerome walked in afterwards. “Miguel,” he had a smile on his face. “Father!” I said warmly, “how was your flight?” The young man replied, “it was the best. Thanks. About the parish…” I stopped Father Jerome, “did she follow you?” The young priest glanced at Matilda. I did not miss the heated gaze with which he stared at her. I recognised the look. Lust. I ignored it. He was a priest but he was a man also. One could not blame him if he wanted a little action now and then. “Yes,” came his response, “she's here for Sister Penelope.”

Miguel“When you married Ramona…” I knew exactly what Damien was going to say so I cut him off before he could finish up the sentence. “Penelope is different from Ramona,” I said, “the way I feel about her is different.” “You were so sure then back too.” “I know what I'm doing, Damien,” I said to my best friend. “I just don't want to see another woman get hurt,” he said to me which brought a frown to my face. “Why do you care so much?” I asked, my arms folded across my chest, “do you like Penelope?” He scoffed, “of course not.” “Won't you invite me in?” he changed the subject quickly. “No,” I said stubbornly, “you're not meant to be here anyway.” “Hey, man! That's not fair.” I walked to the front porch of my bungalow and opened the door, entering without inviting Damien inside. It was not like he needed an invitation to enter my house anyway. Damien walked in freely like he owned the place. His first stop was to my fridge where he brought out a carton of chilled beer and op

PenelopeGod was washing away my sins. He was purging me with his rain from above, purging my impure thoughts about Miguel. I began to sob as I ran down the seemingly endless path. I was in so much distress that I could not appreciate the view of the lake as the rain covered the waters above with the one below. At the moment I was experiencing a picturesque nightmare. I tried to run faster, hoping the view of Miguel’s house would come into view but I could not see what was in front of me. The rain blinded me so all I could make out was a blurred view of the pavement in front of me. I stopped momentarily to clean my face and I saw him then—Miguel standing in the rain like a fucking greek god carved like a statue from the classical greek era. Even with my blurred vision, I could still see that he was sexy. He was so sexy that I wanted to strip off the shirt that clung to his upper body, exposing his perfect abs and toned muscles. I wanted nothing more than to gobble this man up and ye