She’s mine and I’m never fucking letting her go.
Church be damned, parents too. I want today to be perfect, then, when I’ve got everything else in place and she’s locked down, I’ll deal with the whole stepbrother part. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Hoover or her mother, but making sure the slate is clean is what matters, but today there are bigger things brewing and once my letter is received and accepted, I’ll deal with the rest of it.
The only thing that matters to me now is keeping Kitty. I don’t give a shit about right and wrong, about good and evil. If I have to sign on the dotted line with the devil himself, I’ll do it if it means she stays.
I’m a fucking idiot. Pushing her away like that.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly, her head resting on my chest with the flavor of her orgasm coating my mouth.
“About how good you taste.”
“Come on. Really, no judgement, remember?”
“This place, it’s always been enough for me, but you’re changing all that. I want you to have everything Kitty. Silk sheets and trips around the world and fast cars and whatever your baby heart desires. I want to be the one to give it to you.”
I’ll find out what toothpaste she prefers, what shampoo she uses and the brand of tampons she gets, and I’ll make sure she has them all. I’ll know her time of the month and I’ll give her chocolate and foot massages and heating pads and orgasms to get through it.
Nothing is too much. She will never want for anything, because if she does then I’m not doing my job.
I kiss the top of her head, pulling her in close, feeling the soft roundness of her flesh against my hard edges. I love it all. Every inch.
“Let’s get out of here.” I say, as much as I’d stay locked in here with her forever, we have plenty of room to roam and I want to take her out.
“Yes, it’s a little claustrophobic.”
“No, I mean, out of here. The church. The school. The dorm. Go out. Into the world.”
“Really? No, this is wrong, we shouldn’t, second thoughts?”
“None. I was stupid, I’ll probably be stupid again, I mean, I am a man. I’ll be super glued to you from now on. So, you may want to push me away at times…” I glance at the dim light coming through the window. “Let’s go be normal. Nothing but us, no Father Martin and his student, just Martin and Kitty.”
I wonder if the Bishop has read my email. I know he has to approve my resignation, but in my heart, I’m already free. But for Kitty, I need it to be right. Official.
“Yes! What’s there to do around here? I only remember trees as we were driving. Is there a town within a hundred miles?” She slides her hand over my chest, down my belly, resting on the throbbing erection under my robe.
My dick responds to her touch the way I imagine it always will. If we live to be a hundred, I’ll still get hard at the sight of her, still want to fuck her every which way ‘til Sunday.
Soon. Soon, boy. Just a little while longer.
I stroke her head, then easing her back onto her feet.
“Get out of here?” she asks. “Like, together, together, be seen together? You’re sure about that?”
“I’m taking you to town, yes, together together.”
“And if someone recognizes you? Won’t they be shocked that you’re with a student? Won’t they talk?”
“Let them talk, I don’t give a fuck about anyone but you.”
She grins. “Really?”
“Yes, now, let’s go grab a shower, change clothes. You run up to your room. But, you wait to get dressed. I’ve got something I want you to wear. There’s a closet full of clothes too. Anything you can think of that teenage girls use, it’s here, somewhere. I have a whole section of clothes that still have the tags on. I’ll bring you what I want you to wear before I take my shower. I’ll leave them on your bed.” I don’t trust myself to shower with her, I’ll no doubt have myself balls deep nutting some baby batter into her belly before I’m officially a free man and I want to do this right.
As right as I can, that is.
“You’re going to dress me now?”
I shrug. “Daddies dress their girls. After today, I’ll be buying your clothes too. And, there will be more rules. Some fun for you, some…fun for me.”
“This whole Saint Margarets resort sure has some tricks up it’s sleeve.” I smooth her skirt back down, both of us drenched and I make a note to be sure to get the confessional cleaned up myself.
I drive us into town in the limo that belongs to the church. I’m sure my driver would have a fit if he knew I was taking it out without him, but to hell with that. He’s employed by the church, and this isn’t a church outing.
Cape Highsmith is small and close-knit. Which means, yeah, there’s a chance someone could recognize me. I park the Mustang along a side street under a thick Oak and step our and around to her side. There’s a view of the ocean, even here, and when we get out Kitty takes a deep breath, apparently still in love with the smell despite any lingering memories of slipping and falling in.
“Where are we going?” she asks as she slips her hand into mine. It feels fucking perfect. “Are we, you know, going to eat cake by the ocean?” She smiles and I get that fucking song stuck in my head.
“If you want. There’s something I want to do first though.”
I pull her with me, not rushing or hiding. I’m prouder than I’ve ever been with her hand in mine and everyone knowing she belongs to me. Now that I have her, I’m never letting her go. I left a note for Sister Nathalia, not explaining or making excuses, just informing her that Kitty and I will be gone for the day. There’s no way I want anything to disturb us.
“So… You said your grandmother brought you to the church, but that’s not the whole story is it?” She turns to look up into my face as we walk. “I’m not prying. I just… I sensed something was wrong and I don’t want you to face things alone. You said I could write things in my journal and not worry about being judged, well, you can tell me anything you want and I won’t judge either.”
I nod. It’s hard to talk about, but she’s right. But, men do hard things, and not just with their dicks.
“My grandmother is a good person. And I used to be… Not exactly a bad person but on a bad path.”
“So she wanted to save your soul?”
I laugh. “Something like that. My mom wanted me to go into the church, but it wasn’t something I ever thought about. She was very religious, always went to church, devoutly catholic. I rejected all that, and she understood. She supported my dreams of going into research. I wanted to find a cure for cancer. Or at least a new treatment. My mom supported me one hundred percent. But, I had a bad boy streak as well. I got into trouble a lot. And then…” I lick my lips swallowing back the rest of that story.
“Then?” she prompts.
I meet her eyes, searching her face for some clue. Some hint of how much she can take.
But then I realize: life isn’t like that.
Life isn’t certain or safe. It’s a series of risks. And I want to face them all with her.
“Then my mother found out she was sick,” I tell her. “Cancer. Like your dad.”
I expect her to break down. I expect to have to pick up the pieces. But instead she stops walking, takes my other hand in hers and stares up into my face, her big green eyes so perfect and comforting and grounded.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and there’s so much meaning in those two simple words.
She’s sorry because she understands, because she’s felt it. She’s sorry because she doesn’t like the idea of me hurting any more than I would want that for her. I can’t tell her how close our stories are, that when my mom died my father was no comfort to me at all, same as her mom. Because that would bring us too close to the truth I’ve promised not to reveal.
But, I have to. Soon. I never expect things to be…this.
God, if I have one more favor to ask, please, don’t let me have fucked this up beyond repair. Help me figure out how to scale this final wall and not blow up what we’ve built.
“I was already on a bad path before she got sick. I have no excuses,” I tell her and she smiles knowingly. “But then something really shitty happened…”
A memory flashes back into my mind. Being called a pervert by a girl I’d trusted, the first person I ever allowed to see that side of me. The side that likes to play at being dominant and caring. The first girl who ever called me daddy, and in the moment seemed to love it, but everything changed when it was over.
She didn’t want me, she wanted good grades. I was the professor’s assistant.
“What happened?” she asks. There’s concern in her green eyes as she looks up into mine, and the guilt I’ve been carrying all these years over the accusations made against me seems insignificant against the love I feel for this woman, right here and now.
I smile. “Things happen. We make mistakes and move forward. I made the mistake of trusting someone and they used that trust to hurt me. Stabbed me where it hurt the most at the time. When I wouldn’t do as I was told, charges were filed against me by people I’d never even talked to. The school couldn’t find any evidence, of course, but you fling enough mud and some of it’s going to stick. I was kicked out, my mom was dying and she wanted me to be safe. Between her and my grandmother, they came up with a plan.”
“And that was going into the church? Kind of drastic, don’t you think?”
“I had a choice to make. Continue the way I was going or find something new. People talk about hearing God’s voice calling them to the church, but I didn’t hear any voice. I saw an option that would give me the seclusion I wanted. A wall around me that said, stay out, especially when it came to relationships. That was my calling, I guess, or at least that’s what I thought.”
I look up, and nod at the doorway to the tattooist’s shop we’ve stopped outside.
“We’re here,” I tell her.
She glances at the front of the shop and half-smiles, one corner of her lips going up. I can’t resist moving forward to kiss them.
“A tattoo studio?” she says when the kiss breaks.
“Uh huh. You’ve seen my tattoos. I want a new one. Potassium Permanganate and Glycerin.”
“Excuse me?” she giggles.
“Come on, you know the chemistry.”
“Yes, it explodes.”
I chuckle, gathering her into my arms. “Well, kind of a slow burn to begin with. Then the sparks start to fly. Like us.”
Her eyes go wide, then she narrows them at me. “Hold on, am I the Potassium Permanganate or the Glycerin in this reaction?”
“Oh, you’ve definitely excited my Permanganate.”
She smirks, one hand trailing down to my growing bulge. “You’re such a nerd.”
“You like nerds?”
“I like this one.”
I nod. “Then, I’m your nerd baby. Tattoos and a sketchy past, but a nerd down in my core.”
“I’ve got a better idea though,” she says, massaging me still, like she’s forgotten she’s doing it. I haven’t. “If that reaction is us, then you get the Potassium Permanganate tattoo, and I’ll get the Glycerin.”
“Are you sure? A tattoo is a commitment.”
“So are we.” She grins up at me, then turns to the tattooist shop. “Let’s do it.”
So we do.
Rod, the tattooist in question, knows me well. He’s only ever seen me in civvies, and if he’s aware that I’m a priest he’s never mentioned it. He doesn’t even take a second look as we walk in together, just greets Kitty like they’re old friends and starts telling me about his latest boyfriend, picking up a conversation we started the last time I was in here over a month ago.
I tell him what we’re thinking for the tattoos, and he grins, nodding, asking where on our bodies we want them, and we both in unison say ‘Over our hearts’ so I guess that’s settled. But before he starts, I pull him to one side and whisper an extra instruction, just between us.
Lucky for me, Rod isn’t averse to an underhanded deal or two, especially if I’m offering more money.
I sit with Kitty while she has hers done, holding her hand tight since it’s her first time. But if I have any doubts about her ability to take pain, they don’t last. Suddenly, all I can think about is what I can do to test those limits next time we play.
And then it’s my turn, and I chat with them both while Rod works on my chest, inking the shape of the molecule into my skin, a permanent reminder of how much Kitty means to me.
“Hey, what’s this?” she asks as we head out of the shop, pointing at the letters within her own tattoo, small but obvious, and upside down so she can read them by looking down at her own chest.
Shit, I don’t need any excuse.
“My initials, baby.” I point at my own chest. “And yours right here where they belong. Now we’ll always have a little piece of each other to carry around.”
She grins, turning to look back at the shop as we walk. “I didn’t ask for these.”
“I did. And I paid Rod extra to do it for me. You’re mine, Kitty. And I’m yours.”
“Are we really doing this? I mean, you’re still a priest and—your vows. All that you said…”
I catch her up into my arms, pulling her in, putting my lips on hers as my hands slide to her ass and her legs wrap around my middle. Yes, I’m still a priest. For now. But we’ll work it all out.
Because me and her? We’re forever.
