The Kept

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Authors: Sommer Marsden
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Curly for you, eh?”

    “No. And shh,” he said. Before I could ask what he was shushing me for, he pulled me in and kissed me. Hard. His tongue was hot and demanding. I kissed him back and pushed all rational thought out of my head, especially the part where I imagined Ms. Francis barging in to find me smooching the priest.

    I could feel the rigid length of his cock pressing against me.

    I shifted my hips slightly to feel more of him. He felt good.

    Solid and ready. And that was what I wanted. Very much.

    That hard cock inside of me, making me forget about Todd or the dogs outside or the eavesdropping crows, making me forget that Ms. Francis made me feel small and stupid and lazy for some reason. Fuck. I wanted to fuck.

    And I sort of liked him. Already. I wouldn’t think about that part.

    “Let’s go see my dogs,” he said against my throat. He bit me, right along the thumping vein, not too hard, not too soft. Just enough sting in the bite to slide along my nerve endings and make me want him that much more.

    “They must be very special dogs,” I said, rubbing against his cock harder. If I rubbed and wished, could I get him to sweep his huge oak desk clean like in the movies. Get him to hoist me up there on the glass desk blotter and drive his dick into me balls deep until I screamed and quoted scripture?

    “You are a dirty girl,” he said. Peeking again.

    I blushed fiercely. “I know.”

    “We’ll revisit that particular fantasy later,” he said. For whatever reason I sensed no guilt on his part, felt no guilt on mine, even though these priestly types were supposed to be virginal and pure.

    “Sex is not evil,” he said. I had to get him to stop reading my thoughts, or at least act as if it bothered me, on principal. “Sex is actually quite healthy and spiritual, and when I took my vows I worked all of that out with the Man.” His eyes shot heavenward. Then he looked at me and winked, a humorous grin on his handsome face. His lips were the same color as my mother’s favorite roses, a pink so deep it verged on red.

    “The Man is God, I take it.”

    “Of course he is. Now, let’s get you out to meet the boys before I take you on the desk while my secretary is still here.”

    “Let’s go.”

    I followed through the hallways. The arched ceilings made me feel tiny, and the skylights let in weak gray light from - the outside. The weatherman had promised sleet and snow and freezing rain. I shivered.

    “You have the job, by the way,” Father Joseph said. “If you still want it, that is.”

    “Why wouldn’t I?” But I knew the reasoning as soon as I said it. My boots clicked noisily on the ancient tile and I tried to quiet my steps by walking on the balls of my feet.

    “Because of the chemistry between us.” He opened a red door that led to yet another hallway.
    The church was a stone behemoth.

    “That doesn’t bother me. I like it actually,” I said. Plus, I can always say a stifling spell if it gets to be too much.

    “Magic is fine outside but not in the church. The mystical energy is too intense inside. Bad things could happen. The energy can get out of control very easily with all the stone work to conduct.”

    “How did you--”

    “How did you know about me?” he interrupted. “You felt it, right?”

    I nodded. We went up four busted stone steps and to another door. This one was yellow. When he opened it, cold air rushed in. So did a flurry of dead leaves and a snapped branch from a pussy willow tree. I picked up the twig and ran my finger over the furry gray-pink buds.

    “Wonder how this snapped off?”

    “Wind?” He shrugged. “You never answered me.”

    “Yes. I felt it. The first time you touched me, I felt your magic under my skin like a mild electrocution.”

    Another nod. “Good. That’s my one rule. Outside only.”

    “Do you ever…do it?” Then I blushed again because it sounded like I meant something else.

    “Oh sure, but never inside. The

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