SINNERS' SANCTUARY

Wrecked and Dripping

I woke up sore. Every inch of me ached: my thighs, my back, and especially between my legs.

I blinked against the sunlight peeking through the blinds. My body was sticky, sweaty, and still full of him. But we weren’t at the motel anymore.

I sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp sting pulsed between my legs. The sheets were a mess. My phone sat beside me, it was silent. But Mom’s name was still burned into my brain.

“How did we even get here?” I croaked. My throat hurt, probably from screaming his name all night.

I glanced down. My breasts were bruised, n*****s sore, lips swollen from all his kisses. I gently touched my pμ$sy, it was still raw and still wet.

Flashes of last night hit me hard: Kyle slamming his thick c0ck into me, whispering filthy things, kissing me like he owned me.

Then I turned my head.

He was next to me. Naked and sleeping peacefully. One arm was behind his head, and the other was across his stomach. His body was unreal: lean, muscular, covered in just the right amount of sin. Like he belonged in a dirty fantasy.

And yeah, he was hard. Morning wood, I guessed.

I stared, my heart was racing. I couldn't look away. My body still wanted him. Even now.

Then–

SLAM.

The bedroom door flew open. I screamed and grabbed the blanket.

A guy stood in the doorway, he looked stunned. He was shirtless, only wearing boxers, and was holding a bowl of cereal. His hair was dyed blue and red.

Milk hit the floor.

“Sister Mirabel?!” he yelled. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

I froze.

My stomach dropped.

I knew him. He was Tommy. One of Kyle’s friends. I had seen him at Mass before: whispering and laughing during the readings. And now here he was, staring at me half-naked in Kyle’s bed.

Oh God. He was going to tell everyone.

Kyle stirred beside. “What the f**k, Tommy?” his voice was low but sharp.

He sat up, his eyes were dark and his muscles tense.

“Get the fu¢k out.”

Tommy blinked like he just woke up. “s**t, man! I didn’t know–”

The door slammed behind him.

I clutched the blanket tighter. “Why did you bring me here?” My voice cracked. “He’s going to tell people. What if it gets back to my mom? The church?”

Kyle looked at me, he was totally unfazed.

“You couldn’t even walk last night,” he said calmly. “I wasn’t gonna leave you somewhere wrecked and dripping. You needed rest. My bed made sense.”

I flushed, heat crawling up my neck.

Memories from weeks ago came rushing in. I had been here once before, after the church food drive. Kyle was standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter while he watched me like he already owned me. He was sipping beer and licking it off his lip slowly like he knew exactly what he was doing.

He hadn’t touched me then, but his words stuck.

“Bet you’re wet under that habit,” he said. “Bet you think about my c0ck more than you think about God.”

“I don’t!” I snapped back then. But I had. God help me, I had.

I remembered pressing my thighs together, how my panties had soaked.

"Yeah? Then why are you here, little nun?" He chuckled softly. "Why would you come over to my place if you haven't been imagining me fu¢king that tight little virgin p***y of yours?"

I gasped, and then shot him a glare. "Who said I was a virgin?"

He laughed. "Please. I can spot a virgin a mile away."

I didn't respond. I just looked at the floor, biting my lip.

Now I was literally in his bed, naked, wrecked. And he knew it.

The room was chaos: guitars, wires, beer cans, pizza boxes. Everything about it screamed Kyle.

And then he moved.

He crawled over me, his body pressed against mine, and his c0ck was hard against my thigh.

I gasped. “Kyle... I’m still sore,” I whispered. “It’s gonna hurt.”

His smirk was back. That cocky, dangerous grin.

“Oh, I know,” he said low. “I wrecked you good last night, didn’t I?”

His hand slid up my leg, stopping right before the ache.

“But you still want me,” he said, grinding against my entrance. “Don’t you?”

His mouth hovered over mine.

“You want this c0ck again... stretching you wide, even if it hurts.”

I whimpered. Because he was right.

Something had snapped in me last night. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t want to.

“Kyle… I shouldn’t,” I whispered.

But my legs parted. Just enough.

He chuckled, it sounded rough and dark.

His fingers brushed against my sore folds and I gasped. Pain and pleasure mixed together.

“God, look at you,” he muttered, spreading my thighs wider.

Then he looked down at my pμ$sy.

“You’re red and swollen. Still leaking from last night. And now… you’re soaked again.”

I bit my lip, breathing heavy.

“It hurts,” I whispered.

“I know,” he murmured.

He started rubbing my cl!t slowly. My hips jerked on instinct.

My body was on fire.

“But you love it,” he said. “You love what I did to you. That I took what no one else could. That I own you now.”

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. My body was shaking under him. Begging even through the pain.

Then he leaned in, his breath was hot on my ear.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me you need this c0ck. Tell me you can’t live without it.”

And I broke.

“I want you... I need you, Kyle. Please... just fu¢k me.”

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