Page 64 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“I am yours,” he croaks, knees thudding to the ground behind me. “And you are mine.”

He braces my hips from behind me and drops his forehead to my bottom. It feels like a submission, even if I don’t fully understand it yet. I think I trust him. I think I’m falling in love with him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

I hear him breathing, short, sharp breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

“This means yes?” he tentatively asks.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“Yes.”

I feel his exhale of relief through my skirt and stifle a moan.

“How much time left?” I ask.

“Not enough, piccola.”

Shaky hands hike up my dress, pushing the silk over my ass. My thong is wet, and the air feels cool.

“You still need to learn to wait,” he adds.

I laugh. Shake my head. “You—ah!”

His mouth lands on my crack, slick tongue probing along the thong’s string. He licks lower and deeper, hunting for access to my pussy. I release a long, husky groan as he slips past the barrier of fabric and his tongue finds my clit. Just a flick, a flutter, and sparks riot in my body.

He slides my underwear down my hips and to my knees.

“Dio mio, you are beautiful here, too.” The words rush from his lips in a growl. He kisses down my thighs and swirls his tongue on the tender flesh of my cilice wounds. “Here, too, except . . .” His teeth press into the flesh, and I gasp. “Except I am jealous of these, too. I want to make my own marks here.” He nips. “I want to cover you so that I can protect you from the pain.” Another nip. “Make new reasons for them.”

Without warning, he stuffs two fingers inside my pussy. He pumps the slick out and rubs it over the plug. At least I think that’s what he’s doing from the way his fingers and cool silicone bump over me. He takes his time, coating it, making me shake.

I whimper. “Please.”

He grunts his approval and then rims the tip around my tight hole. “You will wear this for the next fifty-one minutes. If you’re good, I will let you come at the next devotion. If not—” He removes the plug. “Then we start over.”

The timer dings obnoxiously.

He pulls off from me, removing his heat.

“No! Don’t stop.” I shove back for more. Don’t give up on me yet.

“Life is suffering, anima mia.” But he works the slicked plug into my ass, bit by bit, twirling and pushing until the jewel’s cold base rests flush with my anus. I feel myself clenching, adjusting to the sensation. It’s warm from being in his hands, and it stretches me with the most delicious sensitivity.

“Bene.” He gives my rump a gentle pat, tugs my thong back up so the string holds the plug in, and then pulls my dress down and smooths it over my hips.

“No vibration?” I ask, accepting his help to stand straight.

“Not this time.” He fixes my hair and then grazes his knuckles over my cheek, smiling softly. “Bellissima. Now you sit with me and listen to the stories. You will act like nothing is wrong until the next devotion, and you will get your reward.”

“Which is?” I have to ask to test him.

He kisses me, hard and deep, then says against my lips. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s my reward?” I pant. “I thought I got⁠—”

“Whatever you want.” He grins. “Let’s go. Nonna’s cannelloni is getting cold.”