All Chapters of Raw Desires and Dark Obsession’s: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Richard didn’t move. He just watched the towel slip, watched me standing there still wet from the shower, skin flushed from the heat. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle working. The small motel room felt smaller with him standing there, the air thick between us.“Come here,” he said.I didn’t move. The space between us felt electric, dangerous. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.He stood instead. Walked toward me slowly, deliberately. His shirt was still on. His jeans still buttoned. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me against his chest. His clothes were rough against my wet skin. The heat of him soaked through the fabric.“Been waiting,” he said into my hair. His voice was low and steady. His hand settled at the small of my back, holding me there.My body reacted right away. Heat rushed through me. He felt it. His hand moved to my hip, fingers pressing into my soft skin as he kissed my neck. The brush of his mouth made my breath c

I woke to gray light filtering through the tent. Richard was already awake, lying beside me, watching me sleep.The moment my eyes opened, I felt it. What we’d done.“Your mother called at six,” he said quietly.I didn’t respond. My body was sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. I could still feel him.“She’ll call again,” he said.Mom always did. She’d call and apologize and make promises she wouldn’t keep. And I’d be here. We’d be here. And she’d never know.I sat up, pulling the sleeping bag around myself. My skin was sensitive to the cold air. Everything felt raw.“We should get up,” I said.He didn’t move. His hand reached out, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. There was something almost tender about it. Something that made my chest tight.“Don’t,” I said, pulling away.“Don’t what?”“This. Whatever this is.”“This is what we both want.”“This is wrong, Richard.”He sat up. Pulled on his jeans. The fabric moved over his thighs. I watched as he zipped them, then reached fo

The tent felt suffocating when I woke up. My head was pounding. My throat was burning. I could barely keep my eyes open.“You’re burning up,” Richard said, his hand on my forehead. His voice was calm but tense.I didn’t argue. I just lay there while he packed everything. Fast. He didn’t waste time.We drove for hours. I drifted in and out of sleep. Every bump in the road made my stomach worse.At the last rest stop, Richard pulled in for gas. He didn’t get out. Just stayed in the driver’s seat with the engine off, watching me.“We will soon be home,” he said quietly.I could barely nod.He filled the tank and got back in. Didn’t say anything else. Just drove.By the time we pulled into the driveway, all I wanted was my bed and maybe some water and to stop feeling like my body was betraying me.“Come on,” Richard said gently, helping me out.Richard grabbed the bags from the trunk. I headed straight inside. My room was upstairs.I climbed the stairs slowly, holding the bannister. My le

Rain hit the church roof in heavy sheets. Stained glass showed dark against the gray afternoon. Single candle flame flickered near the altar, leaving the rest of the sanctuary in cold shadow.I pulled the confessional door open and stepped inside, shutting it tight behind me.The booth was narrow and cold. My seven-month belly brushed against the wooden partition as I turned and sat on the bench. The movement made my dress stretch tight across my stomach and hips. I pressed my knees together and let out a slow breath.On the other side of the carved screen, fabric shifted. A floorboard groaned under sudden weight.Father Thomas was already sitting there.I didn’t wait for his blessing.“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” My voice stayed low through the wooden grate. “It’s been one week since my last confession. And I can’t stop thinking about you.”Silence.I leaned forward, pressing my palm flat against the cool, rough lattice screen.“I had a dream last night,” I whispered agains

The sanctuary was empty after Mass. Shadows stretched long across the nave. The heavy oak front doors were locked for the night.I sat in the third pew from the altar, hands folded in my lap. My belly rested heavy against my thighs. I had stayed behind on purpose.Boot heels clicked against the stone floor behind me.Father Thomas stopped at the edge of the pew. He didn’t speak at first. He just stood over me, shadow falling across my face.“The doors are locked,” he said.“I know.”“You’re supposed to be home.”I looked up at him. “I needed penance.”He stepped into the pew and sat beside me, his thigh crowding mine. I could smell the altar wine on his breath and cold night air on his coat.“Stand up.”I stood.He took my wrist, pulled me out of the pew, and led me three steps to the altar rail.“Leaning forward.”I bent over the cold marble ledge, gripping the smooth stone. My dress dragged up my thighs. He gathered the fabric with one hand, pulling it high until it bunched at my wa