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“I’m always careful,” I assured him. And that reminded me of my latest kill, Father James.
He looked up from his Bible and slid the black-rimmed glasses from his face. James was a handsome man, for a priest, with a strong jaw and crisp blue eyes. He could have fucked any adult woman he wanted, but he didn’t want. No, he liked young boys. “And you are?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter, Father.”
His gaze raked over me slowly, and if I hadn’t done such thorough research, thanks to Calvin, I might have questioned if I had the right man. He lingered at my tits and smiled, and then I knew what type of pervert he was.
“What do you want?”
I nodded and took a few steps closer until I stood right in front of his small desk. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your hard holy cock inside me.”
He paled visibly and swallowed hard as he leaned back in his chair.
“You have me confused with someone else.”
“Do I, now?” I pulled the phone from my coat pocket and activated the screen. “You’re not the James who spent a year in Boston? Another year in Chicago? Two years in San Diego? St. Louis? Portland, Maine and Oregon? Bounced from church to church after a slew of allegations of inappropriate behavior? Must be another Father James Murphy.”
He sat a little taller at my words. “What is it you want, Miss?”
“I said I want to fuck. You do fuck, don’t you?”
Father James stood up and rounded the desk until he stood directly in front of me. He was a few inches taller than me, even in my heels, but I wasn’t intimidated.
He licked his lips at my words, and I knew I would enjoy killing this man. I didn’t always enjoy it, even if it did satisfy my bloodlust for men like him. Father James wasn’t a pedophile because he was fucked in the head. He did it because he could. The power he held over those kids was too irresistible to not exploit, so he did.
“My room is through there.” He nodded toward a door behind his chair, and I nodded as if I didn’t already know. Calvin had given me the whole layout of the church. Even the underground tunnel.
“Perfect.”
He led me into the room with a smile that said he thought he would be alive to see the sun rise over Glitz in a few hours. That was always the problem with these so-called men of the cloth. They were so used to dealing with children—they had no idea how to handle adults.
“Well?”
“How does this usually work, with your…lovers?” I spit the word at him as I removed my overcoat. My wrap dress. My bra and panties, leaving the lace-top stockings. I took everything off because blood was easier to wash from bare skin.
His expression darkened, and I laughed.
“Undress and lay on the bed.”
He toed one shoe and the other from his feet, pulling off his black polyester pants, cheap blue boxers, and black cotton shirt. His hands shook as he undid one button after the other, saving the meaningless white half-circle of plastic for last. As if it held some kind of special meaning for either of us.
Naked except for his socks, he leaned back on his elbows, eyes glued to my naked body. He was good-looking enough that fucking him would be no hardship. I’d fucked worse for less noble reasons.
“As you wish.”
I could have made the whole fucking thing quick and easy, but that wasn’t my style when it came to men like this, who violated the trust of innocents, who used his power to destroy lives.
“I don’t wish any of this, Father.” I climbed on top of him and sat on his stomach. His cock was already hard.
“That’s okay. I don’t care.”
That made it even easier. “Neither do I.” Recalling that night with Owen, I slid up until my pussy hovered over his face. “Make it wet and fuckable first.”
“But I—”
I cut his words off by grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling it.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what you’re doing, Father. I’m sure none of your victims knew either, but you taught them, didn’t you?”
