Damian Priest Age Novels & Stories

Yes, that made more sense. Actually, it didn't. I was trying to find a way to tell myself that what was happening wasn't actually true. “ We all know that the diocese”, father Cyprian continued, “ reposted every one of their priests just last week, and to that effect, together with the fact that I need to retire and take things slowly”, everyone started laughing at how he had mimicked s possible old woman, “ father Emmanuel here, was sent to become the . new parish priest. Hence, he is now your full time parish priest. A round of applause for him please”, father Cyprian said, and the congregation cheered in happiness for him.

"Damian!" I stood up and came out from behind my desk to greet Damian. We hugged each other tightly. It had been a long time since I had seen him, since he had returned to Italy to take care of his sick father who had finally passed away. "You've gotten thinner," I said, observing Damian closely. "Is everything hard there?" Damian sighed and walked over to the couch, then plopped down on it. "My father was really an amazing man," Damian said in a gloomy tone. "He had prepared everything for me and my siblings who all came from different mothers."

I grinned "In the light of knowing your age, I'll say you should stop being a worrywart,.least you start growing grey hairs and fight less because you'll be running out of energy faster than we young people" He burst to laughter. Louder than the previous ones I've ever heard from him. He seemed very free and happy, not like the Boss of the underworld, not like the owner of a multimillion dollars company, Just Damien. The husband of Serena Rossi and the Father of Maria Genovese. That's who he looks like in this moment. It warmed something in my chest and I lifted my hand to rub it.

The same look that once destroyed me… now fed me. I walked toward him slowly, every step measured, my spine straight, my chin lifted. I didn’t look for Valerio. I didn’t look for Elara. I didn’t need to. Damien took my hands when I reached him. They trembled slightly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. I smiled. “So they say.” The priest began, voice calm, practiced. Words about love. Commitment. Redemption. I listened with half an ear, letting the familiar rhythm wash over me.

“And I must say, you really are handsome. And very young. I’m sure you’re not even thirty yet? I didn’t know there were young priests now. I mean… Jesus… it feels like all the good stuff is being handed to God on a platter.” “Really?” Mia asked, her tone flat and serious. “No, that’s fine,” I said quickly, keeping my smile in place. “I’m thirty-three. And I’ve been a priest for three years already. And of course—everything that must go to God must be good, right? There are plenty of younger priests than me. My own decision to become one just came a little later than most.” “Okay, that’s enough, Rose,” Mrs. Voss cut in gently, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm.

He shook his head. "This is a dangerous environment and once you're in, I don't think I'll let you go. You need to change your mind about that, angel." Dominic shut me down instantly and I looked at with a blank face. "Alright then." I muttered and let the subject go. It was insane anyway. Dominic was quiet for a short while before he sighed deeply. "What do you do for a living?" He asked and my eyebrows scrunched together at the random question. "Odd jobs. Right now I'm a freelance journalist." I shrugged. I hated the job and I hated the unstable income but work was hard to find considering the useless philosophy degree I obtained. I would forever have regrets about it and a shitload of stu

the Priest said. Damian unveiled his bride. Seeing her teary eyes, his heart sank. He looked into her eyes and captured her lips. It was soft and tasted like candy, which he savored. It was Layla’s first kiss and this was not how she had planned for it to happen. At the same time, a lady stood at the entrance. She arrived late and her eyes met a heartbreaking scene. It wasn’t a mistake. Damian was about to kiss Layla the first time the priest asked him to do so but was Interrupted by

Confessional Filth **Chapter 1** The church smelled of old incense, polished wood, and something holy that always made me feel both safe and strangely dirty. I had been coming here every Saturday afternoon for months now, not for forgiveness, but for him. Father Damien. He was young for a priest — only thirty-one — with sharp cheekbones, intense dark eyes, and a voice like velvet wrapped around steel. Tall and lean, his black cassock always fit him perfectly, hinting at the strong body underneath. Every time he spoke during mass, my thighs pressed together under my skirt.

She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. “Can I ask you something?” she said softly. “Anything.” “When did it start?” she asked. “Your condition. When was your first reaction?” Damian was quiet for a long moment. He looked down at his hands. “I was sixteen,” he said, his voice low. “My parents died in a car crash. I was at school when they called. Just… a phone call. ‘Your parents are gone.’ No warning. No goodbye. Just gone.” Her chest tightened.

Her heart did some somersaults and with each breath, the knots in her stomach got tighter. Once the priest was done with his piece, they faced each other to do the vows and she came face to face with Dominic. There was a sight you didn't get to see every day. He looked just as she remembered him. Tall and slim, not to mention handsome. With a square jaw. The same eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past five years. The only thing that had changed was how he styled his hair. Now it was all black curls neatly combed back above his head.