Page 4 of Dark Side of the Cloth

“Did you touch her inappropriately?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer, but wanted the confirmation from the horse’s mouth.

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh God, help me, I did. Her little lace panties were soft, and she giggled when I tickled her on her private areas.”

“Did you do anything more than that?”

“No, her father would have noticed, but I felt that I needed to confess before I did anything more. I wanted to stop myself before I saved another little girl. I know it’s wrong, yet it feels so right.”

“I’m sorry, son, I don’t know what you mean.”

Heavy breathing from the other booth was the only response he received. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Oh Father, I have…I have killed before.” A sharp sob reached his ears as Dean wrote Tim’s name and drew a line through it. Tim may not know it yet, but he had just found himself on Dean’s naughty list.

“How many times?”

“Six and I enjoyed it…I saved those girls.”

Dean squeezed the pen tight and so badly wanted to stab it through Tim’s eye, but instead, he said what he knew this man wanted to hear. What they all came in here wanting to hear. “It’s alright, my son. The Lord forgives you.”

He snapped the wooden plank shut and stood, pulling open the curtain. Tim emerged a moment later. His eyes averted to the ground.

“I wasn’t done my confession,” Tim mumbled.

“I think that is enough confession for today. We will have you come back again.” Tim nodded, his body shaking slightly, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. “Tim, you don’t seem to be in any shape to drive. Why don’t I take you home?”

“You don’t hate me?” His head lifted to look Dean in the eyes.

“No, my son, God doesn’t hate any of his children. We will work to keep you on the path of righteousness. Today was a good step, but let’s not overdo it.” Dean laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and offered a smile that he hoped came off warm and inviting.

“Thank you, Father. That would be very kind of you.”

Dean followed Tim, his mind dancing with all the ways he planned on making this man pay. Oh yes, this man was most certainly going to pay. The only question became, when?

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.