Holy Sins

The Road to Confession

AERIS

I was maybe ten minutes from home, still riding the good kind of tired from my first shift, when I spotted him walking along the road ahead black shirt, collar, that unhurried stride that made him look like he had nowhere to be even when he clearly did.

I slowed down before I'd even fully decided to.

The window is already coming down. "Need a ride, Father?"

He glanced over, something flickering across his face before he settled into that same maddening calm he wore for everybody. "I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"You're not. Get in before I change my mind."

That got a ghost of a smile out of him, and he folded himself into my car like it was the most natural thing in the world, which it absolutely was not, given the state my brain had been in for the better part of a month.

"Long day?" I asked, easing back onto the road.

"Visiting a parishioner. Mrs. Aldridge she's been sick for a while, hard on her since her husband passed." He dragged a hand over his jaw, tired in a way I hadn't seen on him even at the burial. "She talks. A lot. I don't mind it, but it eats the whole afternoon."

"Sounds like half my job, minus the collar."

"How was the clinic?"

"Good, actually." I found myself smiling without meaning to. "Renata's terrifying. Dr. Ella doesn't waste words. I think I'm gonna like it there."

"You sound surprised."

"I am, a little." Eyes on the road, mostly because it gave me somewhere to put them that wasn't him. "I didn't think anything was gonna feel normal for a while. Turns out taking blood pressure and yelling at Josie about her due date counts."

He laughed , low and startled out of him, like it wasn't something he did often and had half-forgotten he still could. "Josie. God help whoever's on duty when she actually goes into labor."

"She already told me I'd like it here more than Elderglen."

"She's usually right about things like that." He paused briefly. "And Elderglen? Was that hard to leave?"

I didn't answer right away. The road stretched out empty and quiet, and something about the privacy of the car,no pews, no courtyard full of watching eyes made the truth come easier than it probably should have.

"My husband died a month before I moved back," I said. "Philip. Five years married. Turns out he'd been cheating on me the whole back half of it and I didn't have the first damn clue." Grip loose on the wheel, voice steadier than I actually felt. "He died in a hotel room with the woman he'd been seeing. So I didn't just lose a husband. I lost the whole version of my life I thought I had."

Ronan went quiet for a second, and when he spoke there wasn't a trace of pity in it, which I was grateful for. "That's a particular kind of grief. Losing someone and losing the story you told yourself about them, at the same time."

"Yeah." I glanced at him, caught off guard. "That's exactly what it is."

"I'm sorry. For both of those things."

Simple, like he meant it, and that landed harder than anything more elaborate would have.

The silence in the car pressed against my skin like a second body.

Every breath I took dragged his scent deeper into my lungs, soap, warm skin, and something darker that made my thighs clench. My mind wouldn't stop replaying the two dreams that had left my sheets soaked.

Now he sat inches away, hands resting on his thigh, and all I could think about was how those same hands would feel yanking my panties aside, how that low voice would sound when it growled filthy instructions instead of prayers. My p***y throbbed, already slick, and I had to fight the urge to spread my legs right there in the driver's seat.

I stared at the road, but my body kept betraying me. I wanted him to reach over, slide his fingers under my skirt, and find out exactly how wet I was. I wanted him to tell me to pull over so he could f**k me in the back seat with the church still in sight. The thought made my n*****s tighten painfully against my bra.

When Saint Michael's finally appeared, relief and disappointment crashed together. He thanked me, hand on the door, then turned. The look in his eyes stripped me bare.

"You've been somewhere else for the last five minutes, Anne." His voice dropped, rough. "I don't think it was Philip you were thinking about."

My mouth went dry. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." He held my gaze, nothing priestly left in it. "For what it's worth,you're not the only one having thoughts you shouldn't be having." A pause. "Come to confession this week. Tell me everything. I promise I'll listen to all of it."

Then he was gone, leaving me throbbing, soaked, and aching for the things I'd only dared to dream about.

The porch swing creaked under Mom and Florence, their conversation dying the second my headlights swept across the lawn. My mom stood, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron, and the normalcy of it almost made me laugh. Like I hadn't just spent twenty minutes imagining Father Gabriel's c**k stretching me open.

"There she is," she called. "How was your first day?"

"Good." I forced a smile as I climbed out. "Renata's intense. Dr. Ella's worse. I think I'll survive."

Florence smirked. "Told you so."

I let their chatter wash over me,small-town updates, casserole recipes, the usual,until I could escape upstairs with some excuse about needing a shower. The moment my bedroom door clicked shut, the mask slipped.

I sat on the edge of my bed, heart hammering. His words kept replaying, low and deliberate.

I don't think it was Philip you were thinking about.

You're not the only one having thoughts you shouldn't be having.

Come to confession. Tell me everything.

My thighs pressed together. The ache between them hadn't faded since the car. I could still feel how soaked my panties were, the fabric clinging to swollen folds every time I shifted. In the silence of my room, I let the memories surface,the dreams that had ruined my sheets twice already.

Now he knew. He'd seen straight through me and offered confession like it was permission.

My hand drifted lower, pressing against the damp heat through my clothes. I bit my lip. Sunday felt impossibly far away. I already knew I'd go sooner. I needed to hear that voice again,closer, darker, telling me exactly what he wanted to do to me while I confessed every filthy thought.

I was going to hell for this. And I couldn't wait to get there.