Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross

Yasmine stared at the chalkboard, not really seeing the words written. She covered her mouth as she yawned. She hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after the nightmare and instead read some cheesy romance novel until the sun peeked through her windows. As silly as it was, she’d been scared to get up, her own memories and dreams making her a prisoner of her bedroom until there was enough sunshine to scare all the darkness away.

So now here she was standing in line to get a much-needed coffee to keep her eyes open. She’d spent the better part of the last three days either crying or working on the little girls’ funerals, and now she wasn’t able to close her eyes without seeing the girls’ faces or her sister’s face.

Great. Just what she needed, seven faces to haunt her dreams.

She was physically and emotionally wiped, never mind the fact she didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at Father O’Sullivan the same way again. She’d practically thrown herself at him…and the look on his face as he said he couldn’t kiss her.

Stupid, so stupid.

“What can I get for you?” the barista asked. Yasmine stepped up to the counter and looked at the daily features. This was the fanciest coffee shop for miles, and the number of flavors and options they had was exciting.

“Umm, can I have a Death by Chocolate latte, please? Oh, and add a shot of espresso and two sugars.”

“That will be on my bill, and can I get the same with whip cream and chocolate shavings?” The smooth deep voice of Father O’Sullivan sounded behind Yasmine, and she froze. Her heart picked up the pace, her body heating up even as she mentally berated herself. She couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or her libido this time. It could have been both.

“Coming right up, Father O’Sullivan.” The perky barista trotted off to fulfill their orders.

“You didn’t have to buy my drink, but thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder, wondering where the heck Dean had come from—he was like a freaking magician. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off to the side, hoping to put some space between them. Of course, as luck would have it, he followed her, and she was left staring at his shoes.

Yasmine wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think about something to say, anything that wouldn’t sound like she was in the middle of a stroke or that she’d lost all her marbles.

“Yasmine?” Dean’s voice was low and rough-cut through her thoughts. He took another small step toward her, and she took one step back. “Are you afraid of me?”

Yasmine sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him. She might as well face the music. He was the town’s priest, after all.

“Afraid is not the word I would use.”

Dean’s eyebrow shot up in question.

“Here you go,” the barista practically sang. “The muffin is on the house, Father. They are hot and fresh just the way you like them.” Yasmine refrained from groaning and rolling her eyes at the blatant display of flirtation. On the bright side, she wasn’t the only one prone to making an ass of themselves over this man.

Yasmine gave a weak smile to the barista, grabbed her drink, and quickly slipped by Dean as he thanked the barista, who was trying to engage him in further conversation.

Good. Keep him busy.

But he caught up to her before she made it out of the door. Instead, his large hand landed on the glass over her shoulder, putting him unbelievably close to her body as he pushed the door open for her. His masculine scent filled her nose—a mix of leather and pine.

“You didn’t answer my question. What did you mean that is not the word you would use?” Dean said as he marched down the street beside her. She refused to answer and kept walking, clutching her hot drink to her chest.

“Yasmine, stop walking away.” Her step faltered at the command in his voice. Steeling herself for the conversation, she whipped around to look at him.

“Father O’Sullivan, I’m not scared of you. I’m mortified by my ungodly actions toward you the other day. I’m embarrassed, and I’m sorry. I just… I need to get back and take some time to process what happened.”

Mortified, she turned to march off, but she only made it a few steps before she spun back around.

“And for the record, you were not very godly yourself, you… confuse me with all your…well, this,” she said, animatedly pointed her hands at his body.

And like a bad slow-motion action sequence, she watched in horror as her lid flew off the very hot drink she was still holding. The scalding liquid sloshed out of her cup and landed all over her hand.

“Ouch!” she squealed and dropped the cup. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Stop waving your hand and let me see it.”

Was she waving her hand? Oh dammit, she was and stopped, allowing Dean to take her hand in his. She could see the bright pink mark already forming on her skin.

“It looks like a mild burn. I’ll walk you home and help you clean this up.”

Dean guided her up the street, his hand resting at the base of her back, stirring up all the same feelings as the other night. She had to stop this, or she needed to move. The Arctic might be far enough and cold enough to stop this insanity.

“You don’t need to come with me. I can take care of this myself.” She tried to pull away from his touch.

Dean gripped her elbow, his jaw set in a hard line and his eyes firm. Yasmine swallowed hard as she stared into his stern expression. “I’m coming with you. We need to finish our conversation.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words flew away as he placed a finger on her lips. That one simple act chased away all coherent thought, so she just nodded her head.

“Come on.” Still guiding her by her arm, Dean walked with her the rest of the way to her place. To anyone passing by, they would have looked like two lovers out for a stroll enjoying the bright, cool day.

Dean opened her door for her, and she quickly shrugged out of her jacket and stomped away to retrieve an ice pack. She wasn’t really mad at him. She was mad at her irrational feelings that she couldn’t seem to control.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked as she pulled open the freezer drawer.

“Getting a bag of peas. I don’t know if I have any, though.” She bent over, looking into the drawer, all too aware of his presence directly behind her. He was very close, considering the size of the spacious kitchen.

“That’s too cold. Let me help.” Dean placed his hand on her hip, and she almost fell head-first into the freezer. A gush of wetness filled her panties as she pushed the freezer closed. She couldn’t look at him. Her entire body was trembling, and her battle to keep things professional was teetering on a ledge.

Dean’s hand stayed on her hip as she practically stumbled to the sink, but he seemed oblivious to her plight. Dean reached forward and turned on the water, testing it with his hand until he was satisfied. Taking her hand once more, he held it under the lukewarm water. She sucked in a sharp breath as the water hit the bright pink burn.

The instinct to move away had her taking a step backward and right into Dean. Yasmine bit her bottom lip and let her naughty side free. She purposely bumped into his hard body again.

She didn’t mean to start rubbing her ass against him, or did she? She couldn’t tell anymore. A soft moan left his lips as her ass rubbed into him for the third time, and it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. The deadly passion that had been brewing inside of her for over a year had her throwing all her morals and inner arguments into the wind.

She pressed back harder and was rewarded with another deep moan. She could distinctly feel his rock-hard erection through the robes and wiggled a little against it. The action was so bad, and yet she smiled as he now rubbed against her. So she leaned back into his body, savoring the muscular wall of sheer power the Father seemed to possess.

“Yasmine.” His hot breath was fanning her neck, and it was her turn to moan. The hand that had been on her hip slid up her side and cupped her breast through the cotton material of her shirt. An electrical current raced down her spine and spread throughout her body, making her gasp. Each nerve ending felt charged with energy.

“Ohhh,” Yasmine groaned as his fingers pinched her hard nipple. Suddenly his body thrust forward, and she groaned loudly as she was pressed up against the edge of the sink with Dean’s cock pressed into the crack of her ass. Her cotton pants yielded to his strength as he rubbed himself against her. Her mouth hung open as her pussy ached to have this forbidden fruit.

She looked up into the window above the sink, and Dean’s eyes in the reflection seemed to darken—a stark contrast to the bright white collar around his neck. Even from this odd angle, she could easily see the heated passion burning in their normally calm depths. She didn’t want him to change his mind and wiggled harder against him. Her needy pussy clenched tight as it demanded to be used. All she could think about was getting him out of those robes and riding his hard cock like she’d dreamed about so many times. Taking a chance, she reached back and grabbed that shaft with her hand.

“Oh fuck,” Dean growled. His body pressed into her hand. “What are you doing to me, Yasmine?”

“Do you want to stop?” she asked but gave that hard length another squeeze.

“What do you think?” He squeezed her breast, and she called out his name. “Yes, say my name!”

“Dean!”

“Louder.” He nipped her neck, and she thought she might pass out right there.

“Dean!” she called out.

Before she registered what he was doing, his hand was inside her pants. She moaned his name again as those fingers slid across the wet fabric of her lace panties. He expertly pushed the material aside and slipped one finger into her wanting pussy.

“Oh, you’re so wet.” Dean wiggled the finger back and forth, and she moaned, spreading her legs as far as she could.

Yasmine whimpered as more fingers were added. Her body taking over, she rocked back and forth, his fingers filling her. She gave a little yell of pleasure when his thumb rubbed against her clit. The extreme sensation made her body wince, but she was trapped in place, which only heightened her excitement.

“It’s too much,” she gasped.

Dean wrapped a hand around her throat and made her look at him in the window.

“You’re going to take it.” His voice was strangled and rough.

She nodded, loving this domineering side he’d been hiding from her. Moving back, he removed his hand, and she wanted to cry out for him not to leave her like this, but before she could, he pressed on her back and bent her over the granite counter, the coolness helping simmer her overly heated skin.

Dean reached around her body and undid the button of her pants, then jerked them down to her ankles. The force had her swaying on her feet a little as she struggled to stay vertical. Dean gripped her ass, giving it a hard squeeze a moment before he pulled on her lace panties. She could hear the delicate material tear. Cool air hit her ready pussy, and she wiggled her ass in his face needing to feel his touch once more.

Dean traced one finger down her slit, spreading her folds.

“Oh yes,” she moaned loudly. “More.”

He made the same pass with his finger, dipping it into her core before rubbing her clit in a gentle circle. Her mind was whirring, her body on fire as he teased her. Each pass he made with that finger only made her wetter.

“You’re so tight. You ever been fucked by a fist?” Dean asked.

“Nnnnoo,” she stuttered, the question unexpected and throwing her off. Fear and excitement raced in her system.

“You’re going to try for me, right?” Dean asked, but his tone left no doubt it was an order.

“Yes,” Yasmine whispered.

Dean pressed one finger into her, and she pushed back into that finger until it was as deep as it could go.

“You are a naughty vixen Yasmine.”

“Yes,” she said, as a second and third finger joined the first. “That feels so good,” she whimpered, her face lying on the countertop.

“You can take a bit more this time. I know it. Do you want a bit more?”

“Yes, give it to me.”

Dean’s fingers continued to work her, slowly stretching her wider until it was a beautiful bliss of pleasure and pain. He flexed, and she cried out as her core was stretched wider than it ever had been. The mixture of pain and pleasure had her legs shaking uncontrollably. Her head swam as the passion exploded inside of her. Miniature climaxes started before he even began to move.

“Do you want to come for me? Do you want to come all over your naughty priest’s hand?”

“Oh fuck yes! Make me come, please,” Yasmine begged.

Dean quickened his pace, and Yasmine closed her eyes and let herself just feel. The only thing she could hear was her body smacking into the counter with the eagerness of his thrusts.

Yasmine was beyond logical thought as her body soared straight for the climax she was craving. Dean was making delicious, erotic groaning sounds, and she looked back to see his other hand under his robes.

Oh fuck, he was jerking himself off while he took care of her. She’d never done anything like this before and couldn’t take her eyes off the arm that was quickly moving beneath his robes. She wanted to turn around and stare at him openly as he stroked himself.

Dean lip curled up in a wicked grin, and pain flashed across her bare ass.

“Dean?” She yelled, and she earned a hard slap on the ass that echoed around the kitchen. He chuckled, and he instantly renewed his work, first with a sharp bite on his handprint followed by his hot tongue. She would have let him do anything he wanted, she was so turned on. How had she gone this many years not knowing this kind of pleasure?

He withdrew his hand, and at his insistence, she turned her around to face him.

Smiling at her, Dean began again. His fingers finding her clit immediately. He rubbed and tugged until she screamed with pleasure. Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed through her as hot liquid came out of her. Blissed out and a bit befuddled by what her body was doing, Dean gave her no room to question. He quickly bent down, his tongue hot against the lips of her pussy. He worked fast, lapping up what ran down the inside of her legs.

His free hand returned under his robes, and his mouth returned to her clit. Soon, she began to wail out in pleasure as her body ran headfirst into another orgasm. As the last ripple of pleasure pulsed through her, Dean started to moan into her core. She watched in fascination as he came inside his robes.

It was the single hottest thing she’d ever experienced.

Standing, Dean held up his wet hand out to her. His eyes flared when her tongue reached out and licked one finger clean. Her taste was sweet, more so than she would have thought. He held each finger up to her mouth, and she gave them the same treatment, dutifully sucking each one into her mouth.

“Please stay,” Yasmine said. She was begging and knew it but couldn’t help it.

“I wish I could, Yasmine, as much as I shouldn’t. As for your comments about being embarrassed—don’t be, not ever.” He took her hand and placed it on his surprisingly still hard dick. “See what you do to me? I want to fuck your pretty little brains out all day. I want to pound my cock into you until you can’t walk and are begging me to stop, only to do it all over again.”

“Please, do it.” She reached toward the long robes, but he stepped just out of her reach. “I don’t care where you learned to do what you did, how many women you’ve had in the past. I don’t even care what anyone will think if we are caught. Please give me this, please.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up, his eyes full of the same passion coursing throughout her body.

“I can’t, but I will dream of you all day.” He brought his hand to his nose and inhaled, his eyes never leaving hers. A hot flush spread up her neck. “A reminder of just how sexy you are and how sweet you taste.”

His lips landed on hers with a quick, firm kiss, and then with a wicked smile, he turned and exited her house before she could form a complete sentence. She looked down at her soiled pants and ripped underwear. No one else could ever compare to whatever was going on between them. She was ruined for anyone else and by a priest of all people.