A couple of weeks with her all to myself.
My dick was already hard, and it stayed that way through the one-hour drive.
The onset of dusk shrouded the winding, heavily wooded road in darkness. But I knew every turn and incline. I’d bought this land nine years ago and renovated the timber-frame cabin. At that time in my life, I needed the isolation. I hadn’t trusted myself around people and didn’t know how I would fare as a priest.
As it turned out, the collar hadn’t fixed the cruelty inside me. But it had taught me how to control it.
I navigated the car onto the final dirt road and drove carefully along the steep hill to the cabin. The moment I parked and turned off the engine, the front door opened.
She stepped out, hovering over the porch like an angel.
Goddamn. I was so fucked.
She was the princess of Bishop’s Landing, born of rolling green lawns and blood-soaked money. The Constantines had maintained their monopoly through generations of inheritance, nepotism, and intermarriage between ruling families. But the woman on my porch wasn’t like them. She didn’t fit.
She was too pure. Too celestial.
Illuminated by moonlight, she was a chorus of pearlescent hues from her golden hair to her snow-white skin.
As she sauntered toward me through the snow, my fingers tightened on the steering wheel, my eyes tracking her alluring form. She’d changed into a thin shirt. No bra. The frigid chill vaporized her breath and turned her nipples into sharp little bullets beneath the blouse.
I was gobsmacked by her. Staggered. She floated toward me like a tiny body of fairy dust from heaven, burning with incandescence as she entered my cold dark atmosphere.
She was the shooting star in my life, appearing as a streak of light in the night, compelling me to make wishes and never take my eyes off her.
When she reached my door, I climbed out and touched her parted lips, aching to kiss her.
“Where’s your coat?” I shrugged out of mine and wrapped it around her.
“Where’s your collar?”
“I’m off duty.”
“Does that mean no bossiness while we’re here?”
“Didn’t say that.” I opened the trunk and started unloading groceries.
“What about church? You left the Bible behind, too, right?”
“Didn’t say that, either.”
“Oh, good.” She pursed her lips. “I was afraid we might actually have fun while we’re here.”
“Get inside before you catch a cold.”
“Okay, Boomer.” She loaded up her arms with bags of food.
“Call me a Boomer again and—”
“Boomer.”
She took off, but not before I slammed a palm across her ass hard enough to make her scream.
The cabin’s open floor plan, two-story ceilings, and well-placed windows provided views of the surrounding mountains from every room. It had the same basic structure as my private rectory—kitchen, sitting room, bathroom, bedroom—just on a grander scale.
She followed me from room to room as I put away groceries and checked the heating and water systems.
“When you said cabin in the mountains, this wasn’t what I pictured.” She paced along the windows, staring out into the dark. “I imagined the Unabomber shack or something equally…psychotic.”
Without comment, I tossed logs into the stone fireplace and gathered the kindling.
“There’s a river running down the mountain back there.” She jabbed a finger toward the rear door, her voice rising octaves. “With multiple beaver dams. There are whole families of actual beavers living just a few feet from your back porch, and they’re not afraid of me. I sat right beside them, talking to them while they gathered twigs and roots.”
My lips twitched. I knew she would love them.
“While I was waiting for you, I explored the property.” She leaned beside the fireplace, studying me. “There are paths everywhere. No other cabins. In just one hike, I saw deer, otters, a raccoon, red fox, and peregrine falcon.”
“We’re in the mountains, Tinsley. In a protected area near the state park.”
“How much land do you own?”
“One hundred acres, give or take.”
“With snow-plowed roads, unparalleled views, and a cabin that’s been upgraded with modern utilities. This place is worth a lot of money.” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought your vows were obedience, chastity, and poverty.”
“Priests don’t take vows of poverty anymore. We own houses and pay taxes just like the next guy.”
“How much money do you have?”
The fire ignited, and the flames spread across the logs.
I stood, facing her. “A lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Does it matter? Does it change the reason you’re here?”
“No, I mean, I knew you were a self-made billionaire. But you never mentioned a cabin in the mountains, and I’m just wondering how many other things I don’t know about you.”
There was a lot she didn’t know. A lot of ugly things. I intended to tell her everything while we were here. She needed to do some soul-searching, and I wanted her to have all the information.
But right now, I didn’t want to think about the ugliness of my life. I’d waited four months to indulge in her perfect beauty, and I was coming to her after a nine-year dry spell. I was beyond ravenous.