Priest Sierra Simone Novels & Stories

“I would rather you do this when my back is not to an army.” “Your back has been to worse in darker lanes,” Sienna said. “And you kept it.” “Aye,” Eamon said. “But I prefer to complain.” “Keep complaining,” Sienna said. “It keeps the gods honest.” The High Priestess inclined her head. “We meet before dawn,” she said. “I will take the south stair to the temple. Bring only the breath you need.” Sienna accepted the instruction as command because some orders are compassion disguised. “And if I fall,” she said, practical to the end.

"Oh, uh, that's enough of, uh, that." He had felt very close to cumming and wanted to draw things out for longer. The girls were wiping at their lips. "Oh no, I dribbled on your penis, Father." Jenna exclaimed. "Me too," Sienna said, rubbing at some wet spots on her breasts. "And on my shirt." "That's okay," He said thickly. "Let me help you." The priest pushed her hands away and took the firm young tits in his grasping hands. Sienna squeaked as he rubbed his palms over them, feeling the ridges of her bra and the soft, springy flesh underneath.

And nothing has ever felt more right. Sienna finally reached me. Her eyes were glistening too as she stopped in front of me. “Hi,” she whispered softly. I laughed quietly through the emotion choking my throat. “Hi.” I said. “You’re crying.” “You made me.” I replied. A soft laugh escaped her lips. The priest smiled warmly at both of us. “Please be seated.” The guests sat again as Sienna and I turned to face him but my gaze occasionally kept drifting back to her. “We are gathered here today,” the priest began, “to witness and celebrate the union of Eric Alexander Macmillan and Sienna Marie Jones.”

Her chest tightened as her heart felt heavy when the Priest asked her, “Sierra McCarthy, do you take Declan Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Sierra not Sila, she told herself. You are not Klaus’s wife or Vladimir's sister. You are a McCarthy! “Sierra?” Declan's eyes darkened and voice tight, almost angry. The gentleness of his touch vanished suddenly. She understood at once that Declan was getting angry. The time she was taking to say her vows was putting him on edge. The delay was harming his image in front of the high rankers of the Irish Mafia and the guests he invited from his political field.

"I ought to have killed that stupid Julian myself! Tell Simon to start working on his relationship with the Verte family's sole child as soon as possible. Convince him that he can win her heart by whatever means necessary." "As you wish." The messenger dashed out of the room to alert Simon that the Priest had requested him to do something, and Simon was more than delighted to comply with the Priest's request. The Verte family, the people who are currently in the middle of it all, were unaware of the storm that happened a few hours ago. They all slept peacefully.

I run a mental hand down his black fur, assuring him that I’d never do it. “How do you know this,” Roger asks, sharp but curious. “I’ve never heard of this practice.” “Um…” Simon says, looking down at the table for a moment, perhaps a little embarrassed. “My mother…lives in one of these communities. I was born there.” My eyebrows raise in surprise. I hired Simon three years ago, selected him for his intelligence as well as his hard work and potential. We did a thorough background check on him and while I knew he came from a remote region, I was unaware of his unique connections to a priestess of the Goddess. I make a mental note to have a further discussion with him, both about his backgroun

I don't turn propriety demands into focus but the air shifts, charged like before a storm. Mother Superior pauses, then resumes, her tone unchanged. But I feel it: eyes on us, assessing. The footsteps stop near the altar. A throat clears, low and resonant. "Sisters," comes a voice, deep as the chapel's shadows, accented faintly Italian, perhaps. "Forgive the interruption. I am Father Luca Rossi. I've been assigned to serve here."

I stepped forward to the altar, the priest shaking as he set the wine and stone of purity before him. My jaw ticked at that; these are only meant to bless the unity of fated mates. Sienna was trying to bind us together. “Y-you would need to d-drop the gun before stepping onto the altar” The priest declared as Sienna stepped up onto the altar. “And what if I don’t want to?” Sienna growled out, pressing the silver gun into the priest’s chest. “T-Then your union would be cursed by the moon goddess” The man responded sternly. I could see she had threatened him to be present here.

Confess her sins maybe? It was only now that she had gotten close enough to get a good look at the priest on the alter. He looked young, perhaps somewhere between his early to late twenties. He wore a black cassock, along with a silver cross dangling over his chest. He had slightly curly dark brown hair and dark eyes. She found yourself immediately drawn to him. He had this angelic, yet somehow dark, powerful aura all around him and in the words he spoke. She listened intently as he preached the words of God, his voice deep and serious

she asked coolly. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. "Yes, of course," I murmured. "Good," she replied, her tone cold and calculated. "I pulled a few strings back home, and my brother is willing to help." "Your brother?" I questioned. It was rare for my mother to talk about her family relationships. "Yes," she affirmed, her eyes gleaming with a certain level of malice that was unsettling yet thrilling. "Your uncle, Simon. He is the High Priest of the Crimson Empire."