CONFESSION (A Mountain Daddy Romance Book 2) Read online

I wave goodbye, knowing that my elderly neighbor, Margaret, is waiting for me to bring her these groceries as I promised. Carrying the plastic sack, I head to her place, pushing thoughts of Father Cruz from my mind. It’s hard though. I’ve been dreaming of him for so long. So many empty nights where I imagined him wrapping me in his arms, promising to keep me safe forever.

  I want this badly.

  Him.

  Now.

  And tonight, I will have what I want.

  Chapter Three

  Cruz

  What the fuck am I doing? I’m twice her age, and wrong for all the right reasons.

  But God, the memory of her sweet little cunt, makes me ache with need.

  It’s not just that.

  It’s her words.

  The letters she writes.

  Pouring her heart out. Dreams and ambitions. Plans.

  So many plans.

  For us, but for her, too.

  I stop at the grocery store, buying a bouquet of roses, keeping my head down. Most people don’t leave this town, and if they look at me long enough they will remember who I am. And I’m not ready to answer any questions yet.

  Especially when right now, I don’t have a single mother fucking answer to any of life’s big ones.

  I walk to the cemetery. It’s been long ass time and coming here pulls me back to the day we buried my mother. Twelve years ago, on a cold February. The frozen ground, the mountain air whipping across my tear-stained cheeks. God, I loved her. And she loved me.

  A single mom, she spent her life praying for her boys, Trevor and me. The rosary beads a constant. The cross hanging over the mantel. Making the sign of the cross, bowing her head, and whispering to saints as she went about her day.

  I kneel before her gravestone now, placing the roses beneath the words that read:

  “Beloved and devoted mother.

  Let all that you do, be done in love.”

  After she died, Trevor and I were lost. We went down a path that tore my heart out, made me bleed, shame ran deep.

  Has anything changed?

  Here I am, at her grave, asking for what? Permission to love a girl who is not mine to have?

  Chastity’s letters have imprinted themselves on my soul.

  On his deathbed, Father Sebastian told me to take care of her. He knew how much I cared for her.

  Did he know just how much?

  Sometimes, I think he did. That this was his way to give me permission to take what I want. What I crave.

  Or am I bending his words to fit my own desires?

  I’ve made plans for Chastity and me. Lord, how I want them to come to fruition.

  “I miss you, Mom, so much,” I say, my fingers brushing over the cold stone. I lean down, kissing the cross etched on her grave. She wanted me to be happy, to be safe, to be a good man. My eyes close, my heart is so damn heavy.

  I knew coming back would be a bitch. Trevor and his drug-front of a pawn shop, his calloused heart, his crass words. Still, maybe he is a better man than me. At least, he says what he thinks.

  Me, I bow my head to try and repent for what I’ve done wrong, memorized verses, offered blessings, said how many prayers?

  And still, I want what I shouldn’t.

  Chastity.

  Chastity.

  The girl with milky white skin and long blonde hair, cherry red lips, and eyes as blue as the sky.

  I stand, knowing I have another stop to make before it gets too dark. Before I can commit to Chastity, break my vows, I need to be sure I can take her away. Make sure neither of us ever need to look back.

  Chapter Four

  Chastity

  The moon is heavy in the sky, and the time is right. I’m going to his motel room and he is going to make me his, once and for all.

  I dress slowly, meticulously, imagining him undressing me just as slowly. Looking at me naked for the very first time.

  But I know he has imagined it plenty.

  His last letter had me locking my bedroom door, turning up the radio, sliding under the covers of my bed. Panties off. My fingers rubbing against my tender clit. I thought of him, lowering himself on top of me, taking his big, hard cock and begging him to teach me. Teach me everything. As the radio blared pop songs, I ran my finger along my slit, wet for my Daddy, wishing he were here, to take care of me the way I know he wants to.

  I knew what the words in his letter meant. He is getting off to me, just like I’m getting off to him.

  Dear Chastity,

  I didn’t mean to upset you. I do care for you. But for now, I can’t offer you more than my prayers.

  I also remember the day we met. I treasure it and think of it often. You were so honest with me, and it has given me much to ponder as I reflect alone in my room.

  In prayer,

  Father Cruz

  For now.

  So honest.

  Alone in my room.

  I know the hidden meaning of his bold print.

  The day we met, all it took was one look. I knew. He wanted me too. When our hands touched, when he offered me a blessing, I knew what he really wanted. His eyes said everything I needed to hear.

  Later that day, Mom and Trevor got drunk down the street at a bar. I left them, needing to come back to his church one last time before we left town. We’d be leaving as dirt poor as we were when we came, but I would have something new. I would have a Daddy.

  I wanted to make a confession… had to. So, I entered the confessional box, hoping he was behind it. I expected some lattice type screen to divide us, but it was merely a thin cloth that I could partially see through. He was there, hands folded, looking straight ahead.

  I felt exposed in the way I wanted. I wanted Father Cruz to know my intentions.

  “The moment I saw you at lunch, I knew, Father Cruz,” I told him, wanting him to know what I really thought even though a screen kept us divided.

  “Tell me, child, what did you know?”

  “That I wanted you to be my Daddy.”

  He coughed. “What was that?”

  “It’s me, Chastity.”

  “I know who it is,” he said gruffly. “That isn’t important.”

  “But it is important. I’m a virgin, Father Cruz. And my pussy woke up when I saw you. It needs you. It needs you to take control.”

  “This conversation, it’s not—”

  I cut him off. “I know. It’s wrong. You’re my uncle.”

  “Step-Uncle,” he clarified. I’d smiled then, knowing I was right. When we had met earlier it had been electric. It woke something inside of me, made me want him to take care of me. I knew he could. And I wanted to take care of him too.

  “And I’m a priest,” he said.

  “I know. I’ll wait for you, Daddy.”

  “This isn’t right… for you to talk this way. It’s impure.”

  “How is it impure? My body is a temple, isn’t it? God made me this way. He made me for you.”

  He cleared his throat, and I knew he was still listening. I unbuttoned my jeans, sliding my fingers under my panties. “I’m so wet Daddy,” I told Father Cruz, fingering myself the same way I had in the bathroom. My pussy was slick, my panties damp with need. “My pussy is so ripe, like a juicy apple. I want you to taste it. Tell me if it tastes good.”

  I heard him groaning, and I wanted to tempt him.

  I knew it was wrong, but at the moment it felt so right. I felt powerful like I could have, for the first time in my life, what I wanted.

  “Please,” I asked. “Will you taste me?” I lifted my dripping fingers, moved my hand under the curtain and offered them to him.

  I couldn’t see all of him, but I could see enough. His want for me overwhelming his restraint.

  “It’s wrong, we’re in holy place. You need to go, Chastity. Now.”

  I pulled back my hand, proud of my Daddy for doing the right thing. I tested him, I wanted to see how much of a man he was. If he could resist the very thing he wanted.

  “When
I turn eighteen,” I told him, rebuttoning my pants. “You’ll come back for me. You can taste me without guilt. You can have me without blame.”

  “I’m a priest,” he said.

  “But you will come, won’t you?”

  “I won’t answer because I refuse to lie in my Father’s house,” he said.

  “I’ll write to you,” I told him. “If that makes you feel better?”

  “Better about what?”

  “Leaving the priesthood for me.”

  “Chastity,” he said, pulling the curtain aside. “I can’t.”

  I smiled at him, seeing the struggle, but also seeing the dark pain in his eyes. He understands me, and I understand him. You don’t always need hundreds of conversations to fall in love.

  Some things in life happen in an instant.

  “I love you,” I told him, refusing to look away from his tortured eyes.

  “No.”

  “I do. And I have faith in us.”

  “Faith?” he scoffed, looking more like a mountain man than a priest.

  “Yes. I have faith in you and me.”

  “You’re still a child.”

  I licked my lips. “Then I will be waiting for you to make me a woman.”

  Now I’m walking up the stairs to his motel room. Room Eighteen.

  I knock, knowing he will answer.

  When he opens it, my heart stops.

  My Daddy is in a pair of low-slung sweats, his chest bare. A ladder of abs cut deep lines over his body. Biceps are ripped. He hasn’t shaved for days. Rougher, like the pictures of him I found in Trevor’s old boxes. I’d gone searching, wanting to see photos of the man I loved, and I found plenty.

  He looks like he did then when he wasn’t a priest. When he was an outlaw, just like my stepdad.

  “Daddy,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here, Chastity.”

  I frown, this isn’t how this is supposed to go.

  I know he wants me. I know he does.

  He must see how his words sting, because he exhales, and takes my arm, pulls me into the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “I know you want me here,” I tell him, setting down my bag. I unzip my jacket, wanting him to see me in my bra and panties. Lacy and white. Bought just for him.

  “That isn’t the point, Chastity,” he says, stepping forward and zipping the coat back up. “You can’t be here. You’re underage. I’m not doing that.”

  “But you want to?” I ask, pushing out my lip in disappointment.

  He groans, pacing the room. “Chastity, you know what I want.”

  “You came for me, didn’t you?”

  He turns away as if a tortured soul, his eyes are written with agony.

  And I realize I shouldn’t be here. Cruz is more than a man, he is honorable, and he is respectable. I don’t want to take that from him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come. Love doesn’t hurt, love heals. Coming here, before my birthday wasn’t fair.”

  Father Cruz cups my face with his hands. “God, you are like an angel.”

  “Your angel.”

  His thumbs run over my cheek. “I went into the priesthood because —”

  I cut him off. “I know. You and Trevor were gonna get caught if you didn’t stop.”

  “This town is bad news, Chastity. It’s a hellhole, it will drag me down.”

  “I don’t want to stay either.” She licks her lips. “You know my dreams. I’ve made it clear what I want with my life.”

  Father Cruz closes his eyes, pulling me to him. His lips pressing against my forehead. I breathe him in, mountain air covers him, maybe it never left.

  He steps back. “You really want to pack your bags and go? Travel the world and find a place where you can make a difference?”

  I nod. “I want to do something with my life. My mother calls me a nun, and maybe I should be one. At least those women serve those in need, help. But I couldn’t be a nun…”

  “Why not?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Because of you. I want you too much. Too badly. I want you to be more than my father. I want you to be my Daddy.”

  “How do you know about kinky things like that?” he asks.

  I shrug, looking down. My eyes linger on the deep-V leading to his cock. I see the outline of his thickness, his length. My pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking me.

  “I may be a virgin who wants to help the poor and downtrodden… but I’m more than that, Cruz. I want dirty things too. Dirty things with you.”

  “Chastity,” he groans, sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. “I’m still a priest.”

  I step toward him, my hands around his neck, pressing his face to my cunt. “It’s better to ask forgiveness rather than permission.”

  I step back and see the hunger in his eyes.

  “Tomorrow,” I say. “Come to watch me blow my candles out, Father Cruz. I’ll make a wish, but I bet you already know what it is.”

  I leave then, knowing I can’t stay. He is tortured and it’s wrong of me to be here. I know it. But oh, how my pussy craves it.

  Chapter Five

  Cruz

  I spend a tortured night with my cock in my fist, thinking about Chastity, her curves and her cherry red lips and her desire. She wanted me to fuck her, well and good.

  And God is my witness, I plan to.

  Her tits had looked so good under the thin shirt, big and round and ripe. So, fucking ripe. She moved her slender body between my knees as I sat at the edge of the bed, and she drew my head to her pussy, wanting me to inhale her sweet scent. And damn, it was better than I imagined. Her cunt is so ready to be taken care of.

  And I am the man — the only man — for the job.

  It’s wrong, I know it and she knows it, but it’s also so damn right. Maybe the last decade, was my way of paying a penance for my wayward living. Maybe my reward isn’t waiting for me in Heaven. Maybe it will be waiting for me tomorrow.

  Not wanting to show up at her party empty-handed, I planned ahead. In her letters, Chastity often told me her dreams of leaving this town and finding a better life where she could help those less fortunate. So, I bought her five goats from an international organization that sends aid to those in need. I know Chastity will love it. She isn’t into material possessions; she cares about the bigger picture. It’s one of the many things I love about her.

  But that is just one of the gifts I am giving her.

  I fold up the certificate and set it aside to get dressed. As I look in my duffel bag, my chest tightens at the sight of my collar, my black clothes. My uniform. I pull on a clean pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. After tonight, there will be no going back to my old life. The priesthood and I will part ways if everything goes as planned. I’ll never again wear the clothes I was given after I finished seminary. They represent so many years of me not giving into what I desired.

  And now. Now, I am going after what my soul craves.

  I’m grateful that I spent a decade on a straight and narrow path. It means I am ready to be the man Chastity needs. Faithful. True. Hers forever.

  Before I leave for her party, I straighten up the motel room, wanting it to be perfect for Chastity. I long to pull her into my arms, to kiss her lips for the very first time, to undress her slowly, taking in every inch of her untouched skin, and worshiping her like the Virgin Mary.

  It’s been ten years since I fucked someone and a lifetime since I made love.

  I’m ready now.

  Only thing is, Chastity needed to be of age before I’d throw caution to the wind and take what we both wanted. The day we met, I knew. We both did. Not because I saw her pretty pink pussy dripping with need, her fingers sliding in and out of her tight cunt. No. I knew the moment our eyes met. It was the day our souls collided.

  It wasn’t what I expected, but neither was she. She told me in her letters how, before me, she never imagined being married or having children. That she assu
med her life would take a different path. She grew up thinking she would be a nun, as different from her mother as possible. But then she met me.

  And her body woke up to the possibility of having a lover.

  Not just any lover.

  Me.

  I’d read these words, the one she wrote with pink ink. Letters that ended with x’s and o’s and hearts. Paper that I pressed to my face, so I could breathe her in.

  Father Sebastian didn’t know everything.

  But I think he knew enough.

  Enough to know I wouldn’t stay a priest.

  That instead, I would come for the girl who calls me Daddy. Come for her all night long.

  Fuck, my cock twitches at the thought of it, and I grab my wallet, then head for the door. I need to see her. Now. She’s the only reason I’m here, after all.

  When I get to the house, I see a whole slew of people out in the backyard. I’m not surprised, from the letters she writes, it always sounds like she is busy helping people in town, although she’d never say as much. But I can read between the lines. She would mention how she was babysitting to help someone out of a pickle, or how she spent Thanksgiving at the homeless shelter, how she baked muffins and then went door-to-door giving them out to people in town who wouldn’t have any home-baked goods otherwise.

  Now, her party seems to be filled with the people she has offered a helping hand to. My brother, Trevor, leads me around the party, introducing me to people who all remember me as the man I used to be. Not as the man I am now.

  It makes me think coming back here was a bad idea. I don’t want to put a bad taste in anyone’s mouth. Especially on a night that should be full of celebrating Chastity.

  I hear snippets of conversation, people mentioning how sweet Chastity is to invite everyone out for her party. Not like other kids in town, who are too busy getting drunk and making fools of themselves. I can tell my brother is uncomfortable with the crowd at his place though.