Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross

It had taken two days to get the bodies released to her from the hospital and then another three to make the arrangements the families requested. Yasmine had worked around the clock to make sure the makeup was perfect on each of the three women. They’d been traveling together when the accident occurred. Not that this surprised her. She was right, she didn’t know these women well, but she’d heard enough rumors to know they each had a man on the side in another town. Their supposed bi-weekly shopping trips were practically famous in a small town like this. But it wasn’t her job to judge them in life. It was her job to make sure they looked stunning in death.

Yasmine had to admit—she’d outdone herself this time. The lighting and decorations were splendid and would give the women a beautiful send-off. Yasmine carried the last of the flowers into the main viewing area and looked around for the best spot to place the large arrangement.

Making her way over to the decorative table along the far wall, she sat the arrangement down, taking a moment to adjust the baby blue roses. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the sensation of being watched washed over her. Her eyes flicked up to the gilded mirror, and she locked eyes with the sexy priest. Father O’Sullivan gave her a small smile and nodded to her. She quickly turned and smoothed down the front of her long, simple dress.

Dean slowly made his way toward her as he looked around the room. “Yasmine, everything is perfect.” Dean reached past her to adjust one of the flickering candles. The heat radiating off his body was intoxicating, and she could feel the immediate reaction between her legs. “I knew you’d find a way to make this work.”

She stared up into his hazel eyes and shivered. The image of him bending her over one of the wing-backed chairs and taking her from behind was so strong that small beads of sweat were forming on her forehead.

“Are you well? You appear to be uncharacteristically warm.” Dean laid the back of his hand on her forehead.

A sudden rush of heat spread throughout her body. She knew her face would be a scarlet red, not helping her cause. “Yes, Father, I promise, I’m fine. Just a little too much physical labor and lack of sleep, you know how it goes.” Why did she always ramble around him? His hand slid from her forehead to her shoulder, and the heat from his hand scorched her skin. She bit her lip as the usual quaking in her pussy erupted into a full-blown inferno.

“Well, we cannot have you coming down with something. Come with me.” He gently took her hand, pulling her out of the room. She had no idea where he was taking her though she could have cared less. The feel of his hand holding hers was pure bliss.

Over the years, Yasmine had her share of lovers, but her pleasure was always faked and her excitement shallow. Honestly, if girls ‘did it’ for her, she would’ve thought she was a lesbian, but they did not. And she’d lost count of how many times she’d lain on a bed and exclaimed, ‘how great the sex was,’ while planning out her next day out in her mind. After college, she dated a couple more times, but something was always missing, and the relationships inevitably ended up failing.

Then just over a year ago, Father O’Sullivan moved to town and took over the position of the priest at their church after Father Matthews passed away. The first moment Yasmine caught sight of him, she knew something about him was different. The way he moved, the way he spoke, and of course, the way he looked at her. She was seriously starting to wonder if she’d done something to anger God. Was this man a punishment?

As if she’d walked there in a trance while holding Dean’s hand, she suddenly found herself in her bedroom. Her face flushed for a whole new reason. Her pile of dirty clothes was at the foot of her bed, and as luck would have it, her underwear and bras were front and center on the top. She quickly bent and grabbed a discarded towel off the floor and tossed it on the pile.

“I’m so sorry for the mess. I don’t have many visitors and never invite anyone into my bedroom.” Yasmine tried to pull her hand out of Dean’s, but he tightened his grip, keeping her in place.

“Don’t worry or clean up on my account.” Dean casually stepped over a pair of black lace underwear she hadn’t seen until that moment, and she wanted to die on the spot. He guided her to the bed, and she stood there stupidly staring at him. “Lay down, Yasmine. You need to rest.”

“But what about the service? People will be arriving shortly, and—” Dean placed a finger on her lips.

“I will take care of everything. You have already exceeded all expectations. Now lay down,” he said. It was a command, not a request, and his words made her shiver.

Yasmine sat on the edge of the bed, and of course, her eyes were now staring directly at his crotch. She licked her lips as she envisioned pulling his cock out and sucking it right there in her bedroom while a hundred people sat downstairs. Unable to help herself, she wiggled on the bed, needing to touch herself to quell the urge before she did something very unholy.

Dean’s hand touched her hair, once more trying to tame her wild strands. As she looked up at him, her rapid heartbeat was all she could hear even though his lips were moving. He slowly lowered himself to kneel before her and placed his hands on her knees. Would it be ungodly to wrap her legs around his head and pull that lush mouth to her crotch?

“Yasmine, are you sure you’re alright? You seem very out of sorts. Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?” Dean squeezed her knees, and she suddenly wanted to strip and jump in the snow outside her window to cool off.

“I think I’m just more worn out than I originally thought. Laying down for a moment will do me some good,” she lied—another mark on her soul.

“Alright, if you don’t think you need the doctor…”

“No, no, I definitely don’t need him to make a special trip.” Maybe she needed an exorcism, but not a check-up. She eased her knees out of his hold and swung her legs up onto the bed, getting as comfortable as she was able to under the circumstances.

“Rest well. I’ll make sure all is taken care of.” Dean leaned over and placed the barest of kisses on her forehead before leaving her and her very dirty imagination alone.