Beautifully Ruined

Chapter 2

Nathaniel POV

I breathe out a sigh of relief as I lock my office door after everyone leaves. Grace Miller was in my church this morning and I barely lasted through it. Usually, after every service, I have to compile a few things to send over to my superior but today, my mind is filled with a thousand thoughts as I stare at nothing. I didn't even notice that the building had gone quiet until my phone rang.

It was Deacon Miller thanking me for the service as usual. He never stopped sending me encouragement even though I tried to protest a few things. When I did, he would remind me that he was like a father to me and the reason I am a priest. He also mentioned that Grace enjoyed the service in his text.

I don't know what to do with that information so I text back something appropriate. I sit for a while until sitting becomes impossible, then I drive home because there's nowhere else to go.

I am greeted by the silence of my home which I am already used to as I head to shower. The water runs cold even before I'm done and I just stand there under it trying to reset something in my brain that won't reset.

When I get out I don't bother with clothes, I just wrap a towel around me and even that isn't enough to hide my secret.

It's been building all day since the moment I looked at her and my body remembered things my mind has been trying to forget for three years. I haven't been able to sleep with another woman even when the opportunity presented itself. One of my friends said her being my first had something to do with it.

I climbed into bed with the intention of falling asleep but my body had other plans because in no time, my hand was wrapping around my hard c**k which made me groan out loud into the empty apartment.

My body was already used to being celibate, so why now? I'm leaking already so I close my eyes and try to focus on something that would make me snap out of this but my brain won't cooperate. It keeps playing Grace in that dress until I tighten my grip and stroke slowly.

I remembered how the fabric pulled across her hips when she sat down and showed every curve she's grown into in three years. She's not twenty-three anymore. She's a woman now and I could see every inch of it even from the pulpit.

My hand speeds up, I shouldn't be thinking about her. This is the line I told myself I'd never cross but she's everywhere now. In my head and under my skin.

I remember her at twenty-three, the way she looked at me in that apartment before I ruined everything, most especially the way she tasted.

Those thoughts send my hips thrusting up into my fist.

God, the way she tasted. I had buried that memory so deep and now it's all coming back. I still remembered how soft her skin felt, the sounds she made, the way she arched into my mouth when I…

I'm breathing hard now while stroking faster. My other hand moves down to cup myself and the sensation makes my vision blur. She was always so responsive that every touch pulled a sound out of her. Every kiss made her melt. I remember the way her breast felt in my palm, the way her n****e felt against my tongue.

“f**k,” I groan even as precum is dripping down my shaft now so I use it to make the slide easier.

The thoughts of being inside her almost made me go feral, I struggled to forget how tight she was, the way she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deeper like she couldn't get enough.

"f**k," I breathe into the dark room. I can feel myself coming closer to the edge but I can't slow down.

I can't get my mind off how she saw me this morning looking at me with those eyes. Not the trusting of a twenty-three year old but the woman who knows exactly what I cost her. She was someone who looked at my collar and my pulpit and saw everything I chose instead of her.

My hand is moving fast now, making my balls contract and I'm chasing something I know I shouldn't want.

I imagine her here, in this bed and under me with that green dress on the floor where it belongs.

I imagine pulling her legs apart and seeing if she's still as wet as I remember, tasting her again until she begs, feeling her come on my tongue before I've even f****d her properly.

“Mmph, mmph,” I moan as my rhythm breaks and gets messy yet I imagine pushing into her now. Not the careful slow way I did three years ago but hard and deep, making her feel every inch of what she does to me.

I imagine her nails digging into my back and her voice saying my name, not Father Cross, just Nathaniel, the way she used to say it when I was inside her.

I imagine f*****g her the way I should have three years ago.

“Fuccck,” my orgasm hits like getting shot. I come so hard my back arches off the bed. My hand works me through it while I spill all over my stomach and chest, yet it keeps going. Grace's name is on my lips but I don't say it out loud. Even now I won't let myself have that.

When it finally stops I'm lying there gasping and shaking, covered in my own release.

The ceiling slowly comes back into focus.

That's when it hit me. I just came harder than I have in three years thinking about Grace Miller.

The guilt and shame and horror at what I just did should hit now, it always does so I close my eyes waiting for it but what comes instead is a satisfying feeling.

I got up, cleaned myself and caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Three years of discipline just broke in one night. What I saw was a priest who just violated every vow he took and would do it again right now if she was right here.

I get back in bed to pray but the prayer gets stuck in my throat before I even finish. Tomorrow, I was going to see if she felt this way about me or if I am some sick psycho.