Novel & Cerita Priest Spicy Chapters

He arranged the eyeglasses properly in his eyes then he looked over at me, and his round face broke into a little smile, a smile I had seen on Grey’s face, yes when he was cooking a meal to feed me. I returned the same smile at him, that smile I had when dad would call me his perfect thing, it was such a beautiful moment. The priest rested the Bible at the thick glass table standing in the middle of the altar, my nose told me that he was a werewolf too. " I will continue the speech in respect of a highly ranked member in the pack.” he gently opened the paper wide for him to see, after reading the speech he read from the second chapter of the book of roman, then closed the book after he stopp

My beta said and that was enough to anger me, I walked quickly toward the priest who was scared of me as I got closer to him. “How dare you return to this place without any words of what I had sent you, are you even a real priest?!!” I yelled and with anger slapped him hard on the face, he began to spit my blood and at the same time tried to catch his breath while I looked at him with a smirk. “Start talking,” I ordered and in a trembling state he nodded. “I…I couldn’t…I couldn’t find any trace of her second chance mate.” The priest trembled but I still wasn’t satisfied, I had expected good news and nothing more.

The Priest’s Virgin Whore **Chapter 1** The old church smelled of burning candles and polished wood. Late afternoon light came through the stained glass windows and painted soft colors across the stone floor. I sat in the front pew wearing my white Sunday dress that reached just below my knees. My hands rested in my lap but my mind would not stay still.

Dios mío, what are you…' Her words cut off in a moan as he plunged his tongue inside her, fucking her with it. She grabbed his hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The priest's hands pinned her thighs open, his mouth devouring her pussy relentlessly. 'Shh, mi amor,' he murmured against her flesh. 'I've dreamed of this. Let me worship you as God intended.' Her resistance melted under the onslaught of pleasure. Isabella's head fell back, her full breasts heaving as she ground against his face. 'Oh fuck, Padre... that's so good,' she whimpered, her accent thick with lust.

“Spread your legs nice and wide for me so I can take care of you.” My heart pounds faster as my current predicament hits me, but Priest’s finger slipping over my clit pushes the apprehension away, and I open myself to him. I know I’m being a fucking weakling right now, but if I’m going to die anyway… “Hmm, you can be such a good girl when you let go of your fears, little lamb,” Priest says in that low, raspy voice that sends a shiver up my spine. “That smart mouth made me want to fuck it so many times.”

I'd come for him. Father Damien Cross, the mysterious priest everyone talked about but nobody really knew, the man with the dark past and strong hands who'd supposedly done unspeakable things before finding God. I wanted to see if the rumors were true, wanted to know what kind of man could make married women blush just by saying mass.

I could feel his presence at my back—tall, warm, the faint rustle of his cassock as he moved closer. I kept reading, line after line about denying the body, about offering suffering to God, about the dangers of self-indulgence. My voice shook on the parts about “touching oneself in secret” and “fantasies that defile the soul.” By the time I reached the end of the first page I was breathing faster, nipples tight against my dress, the ache between my legs worse than it had been all day. Father Chris stepped around the table so I could see him. He leaned down, one hand resting on the open book, the other hanging loose at his side. His eyes locked on mine.

The rosary I had been clutching slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. I groaned into her mouth, my hands losing their battle as they gripped her waist, hauling her up until I could feel every curve against me. She tasted like mint and wine and everything I wasn't allowed to have. I kissed her back with a ferocity that terrified me, my hands wandering lower, pulling her hips into the hard, aching proof of my desire. For that moment, I wasn't a priest. I was just a man dying of thirst.

It seemed to grow with the blackness of the alley. The priest rose a hand to the man. Yellow teeth crumbled like a wet rag before it reached him. Along with the smell of rotten fish and excrement, the alley now seethed with the foul stench of urine. The priest turned his gaze to Sethlzaar. "Come, child," he said. "Time to leave." Whatever had held Sethlzaar prisoner, released him. He rose to his feet, confused, wondering when he'd sat on the floor. He took a step toward the priest and embraced his returned command over his body, placing one foot in front of the other.

"Now take your penance." I drove into her ass, the muscle resisting before yielding to my relentless pressure. Elena let out a long, shattered cry that turned into a sob of pure, white-hot pleasure as I slid home. The double-ended use of her, the filthiness of the act in the shadow of the cross, pushed me over the edge. I hammered into her ass, my pace becoming a frantic, driving force. I was a man possessed, a priest who had found a new god in the friction of her body.