جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 10

The house still smelled like roasted chicken and garlic. Dishes clinked in the kitchen. My mom’s laugh floated down the hallway mixed with my stepdad’s low voice. Everyone was still downstairs, full and loud and completely unaware.I should have gone straight to my room.Instead I stopped outside Adrian’s door.It was cracked open just enough. The hallway light cut a thin line across the carpet. I don’t know why I looked. Habit, maybe. Or something worse.He was on the bed.Back against the headboard. Sweatpants shoved down to his thighs. One hand wrapped tight around his cock. Slow, deliberate strokes. His head tipped back, eyes closed, jaw tight. The sound of skin on skin was quiet but unmistakable.My mouth went dry.I should have walked away. I told myself that three times. My feet didn’t move.Adrian was twenty-four. Broad shoulders, dark hair that always looked like someone had just run fingers through it. Three years older than me. Not blood. That was the part my brain kept rep

I didn’t wait until the next night.I waited until the house was loud again. Until plates were being cleared and the television was back on and my mom was laughing at something my stepdad said. Until the hallway was empty and the only light came from under Adrian’s door.I didn’t knock.The door was unlocked, just like he promised.He was sitting on the edge of the bed this time, elbows on his knees, waiting. Like he already knew I wouldn’t last a full day. The second I stepped inside he stood up, crossed the room in two long strides, and locked the door behind me.Then his mouth was on mine.It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. He kissed me like he’d been thinking about it since the second I left his room the night before. His hands gripped my waist hard enough to bruise. I made a small sound against his lips and he swallowed it, backing me toward the bed without breaking the kiss.My legs hit the mattress. I went down. He followed.Clothes came off in messy, impatient layers. My tank

The church was almost empty.Late afternoon light filtered through the stained-glass windows and painted the pews in soft reds and golds. Somewhere near the altar a candle flickered. The air smelled like old wood and melted wax.I sat in the last pew longer than I needed to, hands twisted together in my lap. My heart was already beating too fast and I hadn’t even stepped into the booth yet.Father Elias was young. That was the problem. Mid-twenties. Dark hair always a little too long for a priest. Calm eyes that somehow still managed to look straight through people. Most of the older women in the parish blushed when he spoke to them. I tried not to notice. I failed every single week.Today I had come with a purpose I didn’t want to name.I stood up before I could talk myself out of it and walked toward the confessionals.The door on the left was open. I stepped inside, closed it behind me, and knelt. The small wooden space felt tighter than usual. The screen between us was old and fin

I returned the next week at the exact same hour.The church was empty this time. No older women in the front pews. No one lighting candles. Only the soft glow of the sanctuary lamp and the long colored light from the stained-glass windows.Father Elias was not in the confessional.He stood near the side door that led to the sacristy, still in his black clerical shirt, collar dark against his throat. When he saw me he didn’t speak. He simply nodded once toward the confessional and walked ahead of me.I followed.He opened the door of his side, stepped in, and waited until I entered the other. The moment both doors closed I heard the quiet, deliberate sound of the latch sliding into place on his side. Then, after a short pause, the same sound on mine.He had locked both doors.My heart slammed so hard I felt dizzy.“Kneel,” he said.I knelt. The wooden ledge dug into my knees. The screen between us felt thinner than before.“Have you touched yourself since last week?”The question was d

The house was quiet in that heavy, late-night way.Jake had crashed hard after the movie. I could still hear him snoring faintly from his room upstairs. The rest of the place sat in darkness except for the soft under-cabinet lights in the kitchen.I should have stayed on the couch.Instead I got up for water.Elena was already there.She stood at the counter in a thin white tank top and soft black shorts that barely covered the tops of her thighs. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose knot, a few strands sticking to the side of her neck. She was pouring something from a wine bottle into a glass when she noticed me.“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked. Her voice was low, a little rough from the hour.“Jake’s snoring could wake the dead.”A small smile pulled at her mouth. She set the bottle down and reached for a second glass without asking. “Want one? It’s late enough that water feels pointless.”I should have said no. She was Jake’s mom. Forty-two. Still the kind of beautiful that made peopl