Page 26 of Forgive Me, Father

I’m close, so fucking close. My balls tighten, my cock swells, and I know I’m about to come. I want to fill her, to mark her, to claim her completely.

“Liv,” I groan, my voice a prayer and command all at once. “Liv, I’m going to come. I’m going to fill you up. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cum.”

She looks up at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure, her body still shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Yes, Daddy,”she whispers, her voice soft and sweet. “Come inside me. Fill me up. Make me yours.”

And with a final thrust, I do. I come, my cock pulsing, my release filling her, marking her, claiming her. I roar her name, my body shaking, my cock throbbing as I empty myself into her.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies joined, my forehead pressed to hers, our hearts pounding in sync. Slowly, I pull out, my cock still hard, glistening with her juices and my cum. I look down at her, at her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, her eyes shining with love and trust and desire.

“You’re mine, Liv,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

It’s a vow I know I’ll never break.

Twelve

Olivia

One month later

I wipe down the shelves inside the kitchen cupboard, then toss the cloth aside and pull open the box on the kitchen counter beside me. Inside are a set of simple dishes, white with green leaves around the edge, and I smile, remembering when Gabe and I picked these out two weeks ago.

It feels crazy that we’ve only been together for a month, but here we are, moving into an apartment together and taking the next step forward in building a life. A home. A family.

After paying off Alessandro’s debts, he agreed to seek help for his gambling addiction. He’s been attending online meetings twice a week, is in weekly therapy, and has a support group he meets with in person every other week. I don’t think I would’ve known about these resources without Gabe. And I don’t know that Alessandro would be so committed to his recovery without Gabe, either.

He knows that Gabe is leaving the priesthood (a long, tedious process that could officially take years), and that we’re dating. He doesn’t know about the virginity auction, and I plan to keep it that way. But Gabe has stepped up when it comes to Alessandro, giving him rides when he needs them, offering kindness and encouragement, and even arranging for him to go on the mission trip in the fall, which we both think will be a fantastic experience for him. Alessandro needs to get out in the world, to see the joy and suffering of people both different and not so different from him. I know he has the strength to move past this addiction. He just needs love and support and understanding, and Gabe and I can give him that.

He’s talking about going to university next fall, which is another good sign. A great sign, honestly, because a few months ago, he couldn’t see past his next big win.

I finish unpacking the dishes, break down the box, and turn my attention to a box full of cups and mugs wrapped in newspaper. Some of this stuff is mine, and some of it is Gabe’s. Some of it we bought new, depending on what we needed. Alessandro is still living in the apartment he and I once shared, but given that he’s nineteen and in a much better place than he was a few months ago, I think this bit of independence will be good for him. He’s even gotten a job in order to pay for it on his own.

And in a show of trust, he lets me have access to his bank account so that I can see where his money is going. The last time I checked it, all of the purchases were completely normal. Groceries, his internet and cell phone bill, a small order from Amazon, a movie ticket. No large withdrawals of cash, nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary. I’m hopeful that in a few more months, I won’t feel compelled to check it at all.

Just then, Gabe walks in through the door of our cozy one-bedroom apartment. It’s older, but clean and freshly painted, ina cute neighbourhood, and most importantly, within our budget. He’s just started his new job as a social worker for a men’s shelter, and I’ve got two years of university courses left before I can finish up my nursing degree. We don’t have a lot of money, but when I look at Gabe and remember that he’s mine, I find that I don’t really care. We have a roof over our heads, food on the table, our bills are paid, and enough left over to save for a rainy day.

Gabe’s arms are full of grocery bags, and I rush over, taking a couple from him. He smiles when he sees me, flashing that dimpled grin that still makes my heart flutter and my stomach explode with butterflies.

I watch as he starts to unload the groceries, his muscles flexing under his T-shirt. It’s still strange sometimes to see him in regular clothes, but I love it. I love the man he was, the man he is, and the man he’s going to be in the future. I love every part of him, and he loves every part of me. And he shows me that love every single day, with kindness, with empathy, with small gestures, with always being my rock. My shoulder to lean on.

My Daddy who takes care of me in every single way.

“I never imagined this would be my life,” I say, leaning against the counter and watching as he puts a carton of eggs inside the old refrigerator. “Shacking up with a priest.”

Gabe chuckles, shaking his head and dislodging that tendril of hair I love so much. “Former priest,” he corrects gently, stepping closer. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. I’m flushed and mildly damp with sweat thanks to the exertion of the move and the fact that it’s a warm late September day. “And I never imagined this would be my life, either.”

I bite my lip, looking up at him. “But…are you happy?” Sometimes, I still worry that he’ll regret leaving the priesthood for me. That he’ll regret breaking his vow of celibacy andpotentially compromising his soul. But every time I bring it up, he’s unwavering in his certainty.

Today is no different.

His thumb traces over my lower lip, freeing it from my teeth. “More than I ever thought possible,” he says, and then he’s kissing me. I can’t think with his mouth on mine, and every single thought, every single doubt and worry, flies out of my head as his lips move against mine.

His lips are soft and gentle, but the kiss deepens quickly. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing against him. He groans, his hands sliding down to cup my ass.

It’s always like this with us. Like a spark to gasoline, all it takes is one look, one touch, one kiss, and we’re stripping our clothes off.

He lifts me gently onto the counter, one hand tangled in my hair, the other toying with the hem of my light blue T-shirt.

“Gabe,” I whisper against his lips. “We need to finish unpacking.”

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