Page 13 of Forgive Me, Father

Nine

Olivia

“Such a good fucking girl,” Gabe growls, his fingers moving with faster, firmer strokes over my throbbing clit. “Come for Daddy, angel. Come all over my fingers like a good girl.”

My orgasm slams into me, stealing my breath as my body shakes and bucks with wave after wave of pleasure. I scream, my face pressed into the pillow, my hips fully in the air. He draws out my orgasm, stroking my clit with slow, gentle touches.

When I’m completely wrung out, I collapse back down onto the bed, my body limp, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

Gabe’s fingers slow, and then still, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

He cups me lightly but possessively, trailing the fingers of his other hand up the back of my thigh.

I turn my head to look at him, my face hot.

It takes a second to get my eyes to focus, and I blink slowly. I feel dazed. Drunk.

He lays down beside me, his head propped up on his hand, looking devastatingly sexy.

I can’t believe this man is mine. That this gorgeous, sexy, sweet, kind man is mine.

It feels like a gift.

I skim my gaze down his body, taking in the slight sheen of sweat along his forehead, the dusting of hair over his chest, the tautness of his stomach muscles. His cock is hard and red, a drop of precum beading at the tip. Despite the fact that we’ve had sex twice, his balls look full and heavy.

I reach out tentatively, wanting to touch him. To feel him in my hand. He’s hot and hard, the skin so soft. I wrap my hand around him, biting my lip at the way my fingers don’t quite touch. He groans, his hips shifting restlessly, and his eyes flutter closed for a second.

“Show me how to touch you,” I whisper. “Teach me how to take care of your cock, Daddy.”

His eyes meet mine, the black of his pupils almost swallowing up the blue of his irises. He covers my hand with his, guiding me.

“Like this,” he says, his voice thick. He makes me squeeze him harder than I was and we start to stroke his cock together, all the way from the root to the tip in long, slow strokes.

“It feels good when you squeeze the shaft, like this,” he says, and we squeeze harder than I would’ve thought would feel good around the thickest part of him.

I can feel his pulse in his cock, throbbing against my fingers.

I stroke him again, rapt as I watch his balls contract, his cock twitch.

“Look at this, angel. I’m dripping for you,” he says, guiding my hand back up and to the tip of his cock where precum drips steadily out of his slit.

“Spread it around the head with your thumb,” he instructs, so I do, moaning at the slippery feel of it as I spread it around his flared head.

His breath hitches as I do, and in this moment, I feel powerful.

“Right here, this is the most sensitive part,” he says, moving my thumb to the underside of his shaft, just below the head. He shows me how to stroke him there, his hand curled over mine, our thumbs grazing. His breath saws in and out of his lungs, his hips moving, pressing his cock into our hands.

“Does that feel good, Daddy?” I want to make him feel good more than anything in the world right now. I’m fascinated by his responses, by the way his body reacts. I want to learn every inch of him. I want to memorize his body like a treasure map.

“So good, baby.” He groans, his hand tightening over mine.

“So fucking perfect.” He reaches for the massage oil, flipping open the cap and drizzling some over the head of his cock.

It glistens, slippery and shiny as the oil drips down his length.

He guides my hand back to him, and this time, my fingers glide over him with ease.

“That’s it, Liv,” he breathes, his hips moving in time with my strokes.

“You’re doing so well. Such a good girl for Daddy. ”

His words make my stomach tumble and pitch, and I stroke him with more confidence, tightening my grip and moving in faster, more fluid strokes.

He groans, his head falling back, his eyes closed.

The image is erotic, and one I want burned into my memory forever.

I stare, rapt, the agonized pleasure playing out across his features spurring me on.

“Use your other hand, too,” he instructs gently between ragged breaths. “Cup my balls. Play with them.”

I do as he says, my free hand reaching down to cradle him. I roll his balls gently in my palm, watching him intently for his reaction. He groans again, his abs rippling, his cock jerking in my hand.

“Fuck, Olivia,” he grits out. “That feels so fucking good. You’re doing so well, angel. You’re a natural. You were made for me. We were made to make each other feel good.”

His praise washes over me, making me feel hot and tingly on the inside. I stroke him faster, my grip tight, my other hand gently massaging his balls. He’s panting now, his body tense, his cock swelling in my hand as I work him.

“I’m close, baby,” he groans. “So close. Don’t stop. Just like that. Yeah, good girl. Just like that.”

I keep stroking him, my eyes locked on his face. His mouth opens, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Fuck!” he growls, and then he starts to come, his cock pulsing in my hand, his hot cum spurting out, coating my fingers, dripping down onto his stomach.

I slow my strokes, milking him gently as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally stills, his body relaxed, his breathing even, I meet his eyes and bring my hand to my mouth, licking his cum from my fingers.

He tastes salty and earthy with a hint of bitterness.

I moan, and lick some more into my mouth, savoring the taste of him on my tongue.

He watches me lick his cum off my fingers, his eyes dark, his breathing no longer even.

And then he’s kissing me, deep and hard.

He groans when his tongue slides against mine, and I know it’s because he can taste himself there.

With his mouth still fused to mine, he guides my cum-slicked fingers between my legs, and together, we rub his cum into my pussy.

It’s like he’s anointing me in the filthiest way possible. I don’t understand how something can feel depraved and holy at the same time, but this, with Gabe, does.

A half hour later, we’re lounging together in the enormous soaker tub, tendrils of steam curling in the air around us.

Gabe’s chest is a warm, solid wall against my back, and as our legs slide together, his fingers trailing up and down my arm, I’m well aware that our time cocooned away together in this hotel suite is coming to an end.

I’m not ready to face reality, even though I know we have to.

Words bubble up in my throat. Words I don’t want to say but they spill out anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t have any regrets?” I whisper, my throat thick, my heart shaking.

He brushes my hair away from my neck and kisses me there, his lips warm and soft.

“Not a single one.” His lips move up and down my neck, trailing soft, sweet kisses over my skin. “From the moment I first saw you, I was drawn to you. You walked into my church for a reason. I can’t help but feel that God put you in my path.”

My face crumples and I try to stifle my sob, but I can’t. It comes out as a choked sound, and I press my wet fist to my mouth.

I don’t deserve him. I’m unworthy.

“Liv?” he says softly, slipping his fingers under my chin and tilting my face towards his. He frowns when he sees my tears and turns me effortlessly in his lap so that I’m curled against his chest. “What’s wrong, angel? Talk to me.”

I meet his eyes, peering into their gorgeous blue depths. The water sloshes around us, bubbles clinging to our slick skin. My chest squeezes painfully, all of the unworthiness churning inside me making it hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” I manage. “For…selling myself. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong, and I—“ I feel so tremendously guilty that I can’t think. My heart beats sluggishly.

He cups my face, his thumb pressing gently against my lips.

“Don’t,” he says gently. “You have nothing to apologize for. You found yourself in an impossible situation and did what you thought was best. You didn’t know how I felt about you.

But I’m glad that you told me so that I could be here to make things right.

To help you and protect you.” He kisses me, so softly, so sweetly.

“And now you’re mine. Not because I bought you, but because we belong to each other now. ”

I blink, tears stinging my eyes and slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this.”

He tilts his head, stroking his hand up and down my back.

“The first time I ever saw you, I thought you were an angel. You were sitting in a pew and the way the sunlight was shining through the stained-glass windows made you look ethereal. Lit from within. It was only after the sun went behind a cloud that I realized it wasn’t the sun making you look angelic.

You just were.” He sighs, rubbing the ends of my hair between his fingers.

“And then, as I got to know you, I fell deeper and deeper. You’re smart and sweet and kind.

You’re funny and caring and have the biggest heart.

You work hard and have managed to rise above the adversity you’ve faced.

You’re incredible, Olivia. Amazing. You deserve to be treated like a queen.

Worshipped like a goddess. And that’s what I intend to do.

I’m so in love with you, Liv. I’m so in love with you that it hurts.

And knowing that you love me too is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. ”

“But…your faith. Your career. I don’t want you to regret this. To regret…me. Us.”

He cups my cheek, brushing away my tears with his thumb. He strokes my thigh under the water, a comforting touch that settles something deep inside me.

“You didn’t compromise my faith. I still believe in God. I still love God. That hasn’t changed. And while I still have my faith, you’ve brought me home to what’s real. To what matters, here on Earth. You’re what matters now. Not being a priest. I’ll happily give that up to be with you.”

He leans in, kissing me slow and deep. His lips are warm and gentle, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my heart flutter, my stomach dance with excited butterflies.

When he pulls back, there’s an intensity in his blue eyes.

“I’ve never felt more right than I did inside you,” he whispers.

I’m still crying, but they’re tears of happiness now. Of joy. I let out a shaky breath, resting my forehead against his. He wraps his arms around me, holding me against him. I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. He strokes my hair, his touch comforting. Soothing.

“I’m your home now, Olivia, and you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but intense. “Being a priest was my past. Being with you is my future. Being with you is everything.”

And then we’re kissing again, so wrapped up in each other that we don’t even notice when the water starts to go cold.