His dirty little slut (Completed) - Chapter 20：The end

I knocked once every five seconds not a second too fast, not a second too slow. Even one second could be my doom. My doom meaning that Father would think that I am not the one hence would refuse to open the door.

Father Valentine opened the door to reveal a familiar room, a familiar light, a familiar bed. Everything I was used to, things that had now became my life.

I walked in with steps I’ve never taken, drawn, unsteady steps. My soul felt like it had been disengaged from my body as if it stood at the corner watching me.

I was the puppet and my soul the puppet master with no strings but a bleeding conscience.

“You came. I thought you were still angry at me. ” Father said hugging me whilst I closed the door behind me.

For the first time since the first time  he hugged me, I cried again. But this time it wasn’t a wail it was a deep suppressed, drowsy sob.

In three months I had changed from the naive girl he met to a woman I admired. A wild but tamed woman.

A wild bird only him could cage.

He held my hands and led me to the bed while I cried to my heart’s content. My tears soaked his pants.

When he saw that I was seriously in pain he raised my head up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for on Sunday. I know. I know what I did wasn’t___I just__ Please stop crying already. I’m sorry. Gloria.” He was rambling on and on and I just kept crying.

I wanted so much to speak, to let the pain out but tears flowed instead of words. He kissed my lips a gentle kiss that got me crying the more but unlocked the chain that held my words on my tongue.

“I love you. I love you so much. So much it hurts here.” I cried hitting my heart. “I don’t want to share you with anyone not even with God. I don’t want to anymore. I want you to be with me forever.” I sniffed holding on to him for dear life. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but abyss. His face expressionless, his eyes holding not darkness, not hell but nothingness.

“I am tired of being a hypocrite.” I added stilling my tears.

I kissed him and he kissed me back ravishingly, crazily. A deadly kiss, a poison that sipped into my heart killing it.

In all my 16 years of living nothing ever appealed to me more than the way he thrust into my mouth and into my core, so longingly like he was scared of breaking me.

But it was the last day we made love the last time he prayed for me, the last time I answered any of his prayers.

After a week he asked the Bishop for a transfer to another Parish. A Parish that was far, far away in another country.

He didn’t come on the day of his send forth. We didn’t see each other after that day, the day I had told him of my desire to own him wholly and completely.

It was the last time I saw darkness that was light. His eyes.

From that day up until now I couldn’t sleep with the light on because the dark reminded me of him. Reminded me of the time I had lived on the edge of life with him.

And so Now that I see him again with a red chasuble on and wedding bells ringing. With eyes still as dark and passion still in it. I had only one thing in mind, one desire. To run into his arms again and surrender to him once more like we did all this years before.

Damn the world! He was mine.

The end.