Priest (Priest, #1)

by Sierra Simone

One and a half inches of damnation, and all I could think about was sinking deeper into hell.

Death by turn-on. Death by perpetual erection.

trace a small cross on her forehead. A blessing. And hopefully a promise to do better.

“I’m Catholic. Judging is my thing.”

“I can’t stop myself, I’m sorry,” I said at the same time she said, “I tried to stay away from you.” And then I kissed her.

A baptism by kiss rather than a baptism by water.

“I want to see you again,” I said in a low voice. There was no mistaking my meaning and she shifted, rubbing her thighs together. “Is that… I mean, should we…” “I don’t think I care anymore,” I said. “Neither do I,” she whispered.

It hit me like a ton of obvious, kiss-sized bricks as I recited Mass the next morning: I was falling in love with Poppy Danforth.

the experience of her had crossed over from being confusing as hell to wonderful. Awesome. Not awesome in the cool sense, but awesome in the sense that it filled me with awe. She filled me with awe.

“I got the batteries, and it was only luck that the lightning flashed right as I was turning away, or I wouldn’t have seen her. She was suspended there, like she was frozen in time. In the movies, they’re always swaying, and there’s a creaking noise, but it was so still. Just. Still.

So here’s my final confession. I knelt on my bedroom floor like I was going to pray, but instead of praying, I spread my legs and fucked myself with my fingers, pretending it was you. And when I climaxed, I hoped to God that you would be able to hear me calling your name.

“Everyone should have a nice rosary. At least, that’s what my grandmother always said.” I slid my hands to rest on the outside of Poppy’s thighs, mostly so I could look somewhere other than the rosary. “That one was Lizzy’s.”

when I think about her—well, I know she would have loved you.” I met her eyes. “She would have loved you like I do.”

“Father Brady,” I said. “I imagine you are here for a confession?” “Yes.” I stood and he looked me up and down. There was a long pause, a long moment where his face went from confused to sad to unreadable. “Not today,” he finally said and then turned and started walking toward his office. I was confused. “Not today? Like no confession today? Are you busy or something?” “No, I’m not busy,” he said, still walking away.

This Mass would be the last Mass I ever said.

This afternoon, I was going to call Bishop Bove and lay down my own life. I would resign from the clergy. And then I would find Poppy and I would ask her to marry me. I would live my life awash with love, just as God had intended.

I’d never wanted to be with a woman rather than be a priest; I’d wanted to be with Poppy rather than be a priest. I didn’t want the freedom to fuck; I wanted the freedom to fuck her. I didn’t want a family; I wanted a family with her.

necessary things are often painful.

two weeks later, I was on a plane to Kenya on an open-ended mission trip to dig wells in Pokot, for the first time running to something, rather than away.

The moment Sterling’s lips touched mine, I wanted to die because I saw you coming through the park. I knew you were there, and I knew you were hurting, but I had to. I wanted you to forget all about me and keep living your life the way God wanted you to.”

“That day, I was on my way to propose to you. And if you’ll have me, I still want to marry you, Poppy. I don’t have a ring. I don’t have money. I don’t even have a real job right now. But all I know is that you are the single most amazing person God has ever put in my path, and the thought of a life without you breaks my heart.” “Tyler…” she breathed. “Marry me, lamb. Say yes.” She glanced down at the rosary and then looked back up to me. And her clear, tearful yes reached my ears about the same time her lips reached mine,