Page 51 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
Yasmine’s frustration with Dean was increasing with every minute that ticked away. He’d arrived at the hospital with the jerk that had hurt Mabel, saying that the guy wanted to apologize. She didn’t care how many times he apologized. She was never going to forgive him for what he did to Mabel. She almost lost the last person that loved her because of that creep. Then Dean proceeded to say that he was going to take the guy to rehab but would be back in a few days. Why he couldn’t drop him off at the closest one and be done with it, she didn’t understand. Mabel said it was because it was his nature to fix and protect.
Now, she could’ve forgiven him for wanting to help the guy and not returning to the hospital as he had promised. He was a priest, after all. But she was also very aware that Dean was back in town, and he hadn’t come to see her or call her or anything. It had been two weeks, and it was obvious he was ghosting her.
He had invited her to talk, and it had really seemed like so much more, but flaking out and disappearing on her again?
“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this.”
“What did you say, dear? I couldn’t hear you over the water running,” Mabel called out from the kitchen.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself. I’ll be back to check on you later. I need to run an errand.”
“Okay, dear. No need to hurry. You know I’m a tough nut.”
Oh, I know.
Mabel had tried to get out of bed the very next day, demanding to go home. If it hadn’t been for an equally stubborn doctor, she would’ve gotten her way. Then as soon as she had brought Mable home, she’d started cooking, saying she was bored and needed to keep her hands busy. Going on about some saying with God and idle hands.
Yasmine grabbed her purse and keys. Well, these hands were about to become a whole lot less idle.
* * *
Dean was as miserable as a cut dog. He’d lost count of how many times he’d picked up his phone to call Yasmine but quickly hung up. He knew it was for the best if she kept her distance from him, but doing the right thing was so damn hard. He tapped the pen against the pad of paper in front of him. He needed to write his next sermon, but he was no further ahead than an hour ago.
“Shit,” Dean groaned as the little light on his desk glowed red.
It was the signal that someone was in the confessional booth. The “confessions” he’d listened to lately were making him regret taking this position. Seriously, who cared if someone wished that someone else’s pies tasted terrible and now felt jealous? Sighing, he stood and headed toward the booth.
The church was quiet. Only a small handful of people sat around the church, each one completing their form of prayer or self-reflection. Dean drew back the heavy curtain, and the old wooden booth creaked as he sat on the thin cushion covering the seat. He slid the small panel out of the way and got himself as comfortable as possible for another annoying rant.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been never since my last confession.”
Dean sat up straight, his pulse rising at the sweet sound of Yasmine’s voice. “Please, my child, go on,” he said.
“I keep having these desires, these otherworldly urges for someone I shouldn’t.” Dean moved a little closer to the small wooden screen.
“Really, child, this sounds serious please go on.”
“My…my pussy gets so wet and so hot, and I can’t control it. Even though this man is off-limits, I can’t stop touching myself.” Yasmine’s quiet voice hitched slightly.
Dean pulled at his collar as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His cock had been hard before with just the thought of her, but this was too much. He pressed down on the robes, giving himself a rub to try and ease the building tension.
“Even now, I can’t resist. I have to touch myself.”
Dean swallowed hard and pressed his face against the little holes trying to see into the darkened booth. He could just make out the outline of Yasmine. At first, he didn’t understand what he saw, but it became clearer the longer he watched. She was sitting with her back to the far wall, her one leg on the bench while the other was up on the wall. Her dress piled around her stomach and gave him the sweetest unobstructed view as she dipped her fingers in and out of her pussy.
“These feelings, these urges are very natural, my child. Is there something specific you want to do?” He asked as he slipped his hand under his robe and slowly, silently ticked his zipper on his pants down. When his cock sprang free of the tight confines, he stifled a moan as he gripped his shaft. With a single stroke, he was soaked from the pre-cum that was weeping in an endless stream.
“Oh yes, Father, I have something very specific I want to do.”
Dean licked his lips, remembering how delicious she tasted. He could almost smell her and drew in a deep breath as he slowly stroked his throbbing cock. “Please, my child, go on. I can only absolve you of your sins if I know what they all are in detail.”
A small whimper of pleasure reached his ears, his eyes straining to get a better look. Both of her delicate hands were at work now, one rubbing in small circles over what could only be her clit while the other pumped faster into her wetness. The sounds were like music to his years.
“I dream of this man slipping his tongue deep inside me and licking until I come all over his face.”
“Is that so?” Dean swallowed a groan. “That’s natural. You are a visceral woman with needs. What else, my dear?” Dean pressed.
“I want his big nasty cock in my mouth. I want to run my tongue up and down that long, hard shaft and suck him in my dirty mouth until he has no more cock to feed me. I want to feel his hot load run down my throat, tasting that saltiness, and know that I made him feel that good.”
