Her Priest (Divine Domination Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Her Priest

  The Divine Domination Series

  Megan Michaels

  Contents

  About This Book

  Newsletter

  Also by Megan Michaels

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Megan Michaels

  About the Author

  About This Book

  She lost him once.

  To the Church.

  But he came back …

  Divorced and working in Amsterdam as a reporter, Chelsea never dreamed that opening a simple social media account could bring the love of her life back to her. Especially when she still isn’t convinced she was his first love. Despite being his devoted submissive—in all things—she’d let him slip through her fingers—and paid the price of ten years of yearning for him. But could an independent, strong-minded woman be just as accepting of his dominance now?

  A dream one quiet night in college had shown Emerson his true calling. And that calling meant leaving his girlfriend, his lover. His soul mate. But now he’d found Chelsea again, that calling seemed a world away, his need and his lust for her as overpowering as the first day he’d laid eyes on her. He has to have her kneeling at his feet once more. Even if that means leaving the priesthood…

  His decade long sojourn has changed him in ways he’d never expected. And now he has his Chelsea under his dominion once more, she is going to find he is even more demanding than he was as a young man. Ten years in a position of power have left him with a taste for commanding obedience. And he intends to exercise that power on his yielding, submissive soul mate.

  She’s won him back, but is she ready for the new Emerson? Is she ready for his particular brand of religion-tinged, taboo kink?

  He came back for her…

  But is she ready for ~ Her Priest?

  Publisher’s Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!

  This (very) steamy contemporary romance contains the following themes or activities: spanking, sexual scenes, elements of BDSM, and a young woman learning religion-tinged, taboo kink with a strict, no-nonsense alpha male ex-priest.

  If you’d like to be notified of new Megan Michaels books, sign up for her New Release E-mail Alerts.

  http://www.megan-michaels.com/newsletter/

  No Spam – just new books!

  Copyright © 2017 by Megan Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com)

  Editing and Proofreading by Duckman Proofreading (www.duckman-proofreading.com)

  Interior Book Design by Duckman Proofreading ([email protected])

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.

  This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 18and under.

  For mature readers only.

  Published in the United States of America.

  First Electronic Edition: February 2017

  Also by Megan Michaels

  The Service & Submission Series:

  Finding Submission

  Mastering Inga

  My Russian Master

  Colorado Christmas

  Service & Submission Series, Vol. 1 Boxed Set

  The Widow Wagon Series:

  Book One: Second Chances

  Book Two: More Than She Bargained For

  Book Three: Cinch Your Saddle

  Book Four: The Renegade’s Captive

  The Desiring The Forbidden Series:

  Desiring The Forbidden

  His Sassy Girl

  Desiring The Forbidden Series, Vol. 1 Boxed Set

  Published By Stormy Night Publications

  What Naughty Little Girls Get

  The Little Princess Cruise

  This book is dedicated to all those women who have fantasized about…their priest.

  “We are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us.”

  ~Ovid

  Prologue

  “Prepare for your penance.”

  Closing the dark purple velvet curtains, he turned briskly, walking toward the altar. He bowed, genuflecting and making the sign of the cross quickly as he’d been trained since he was young. They didn’t turn any lights on, preferring that the chapel stay dark. As guests at the Vatican, they didn’t want to draw any attention to themselves, especially for this illicit act.

  He picked up the metal incense holder, sprinkling the crystals onto the heating element at the bottom. The smoke arose as he flipped the metal lid, which clanked loudly, echoing off the walls of the small stone chapel.

  He swung it back and forth, the smoke rising in white plumes, the aroma filling the sanctuary.

  Clank, clank, clank!

  As a child, he would practice doing this with coins in a sock; the sound was very similar, and to this day, he found the clanking and the scent calming and peaceful.

  He walked the periphery, giving her time to do as she’d been instructed. A nearby shelf became the home of the incense burner.

  “Are you ready?” His cock stirred behind his black dress pants as he stood behind the antique dark wood confessional.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Emerson opened the curtains to find Chelsea kneeling on the cold stone floor—naked and in her full glory. His cock lengthened almost impossibly so, and he fought the urge to disrobe and toss her ruthlessly to the floor for a good fucking.

  He murmured, “Jesus!”

  “You remember our safety plan?” He tilted her chin up.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s proceed.” Exhaling loudly, he blew his breath out and hoped he could hold out until the end.

  Her voice trembled slightly, she spoke so quiet he could barely hear her. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  “How long has it been since your last confession?” His deep voice echoed off the marble, his cock straining behind the zipper of his pants.

  “It’s been since last night, Father.” She dropped her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her lush, white breasts contrasted with the purple curtains, and her nipples tightly furled—either in arousal or due to the cold.

  His mouth watered wanting to suc
k on the hard-as-steel tips.

  “Bad girl. There’s no need to recite it—not when you’ve blatantly disregarded the penance you were given so quickly. It appears that today I will have to be harsher. You know what to do.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  With trembling hands, she undid the button and zipper on his pants, easing his long length through the opening of his boxers. The weight of him bobbed and lay heavy on her palm. Her soft, small hands stroked him gently, gliding up and down.

  Leaning forward, her mouth opened like that of a hungry bird waiting for its meal. Her moist, wet tongue flicked and fluttered along the length, paying particular attention to the large vein running along the underside. Once at the top, she laved her tongue along the sensitive ridge of the angry purple head, gently pressing the flat of her tongue with enough resistance that he grit his teeth, his eyes rolling.

  “Oh God!” His legs trembled.

  Her small giggle vibrated through to his core, his balls tightening close to his body, the ache and pull spurring his arousal.

  “Bad girl!” He thrust deep into her throat and reaching around, he slapped her bottom several times.

  She shrieked and shouted around his penis, the jostling and her teeth brushing against the sensitive tissue, rolling back his excitement.

  “Behave, girl.” He straightened, widening his stance, shoving himself rhythmically into her, bouncing off the back of her throat.

  “Touch your clit and masturbate. I want us to come at the same time.”

  Her one hand expertly rubbed her mound, her long middle finger dipping into her channel, but she kept sucking and licking him. And when her breathing hit a fevered pitch with accompanying moans and mewls, he knew she would be coming soon.

  He tugged and pinched her nipples, knowing that the pull of arousal would be connected to her clit.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was her mouth fully enveloping him, sucking him tightly. She removed her hand from his cock to cup his balls, the tips of her fingers tickling the fine hairs on his perineum.

  Clenching his ass tightly, his cock pounding furiously down her throat, he watched her closely, her other hand rubbing her clit swiftly to completion.

  He ejaculated down her throat, her cries occurring almost simultaneously, muffled behind his penis. Drawing himself out of her, he dropped his chin to his chest, thoroughly spent. His hands grabbed either side of the confessional and he had no doubt that from behind, he looked like he was readying himself for a flogging in front of the ornate structure. But fully clothed, no one would have guessed that his cock was in his woman’s mouth.

  “You’re a very good girl, Chelsea.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  Looking around the room quickly, he focused on those gorgeous green eyes again. “Let’s get dressed before we’re late for dinner.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Tucking himself quickly back into his pants, he closed the velvet drapes, giving his girl time to gain composure while he tidied up the chapel. Walking back up the altar to extinguish the incense, he shook his head laughing.

  So this is what Cardinal Petr Novak has been up to?

  Chapter 1

  Emerson sipped on his latte, the sun shining through the large window felt warm on his tweed jacket. The bustle of people and bikes on the street outside the café conveyed just how tired the people of Amsterdam had become with the cold, rainy winter this year.

  Smiling couples wrapped arm in arm and families jogging with babies in strollers filled the streets. The canal was teaming with boats crammed with happy people drinking wine and laughing. Spring had been a long time coming, and the blossoming trees littered the sidewalk with their pale pink petals, many floating on the warm breeze.

  It had been a long winter for him too. He’d had more changes to his life in the past year—more than he wanted to ponder at the moment.

  His hand went to his throat to straighten his collar. Habit.

  It’s not there anymore. That’s over.

  He swallowed past the lump that rose in his throat. It’d been a huge loss—a failure in many respects in his mind. Although his family had been supportive, he knew their disappointment ran deep—as did his own.

  Taking a vow—any vow—came with responsibility. He’d let down God, his family and friends, and himself in the process.

  But he’d found love. Given up one love for another.

  Wasn’t that common? Didn’t many people do that?

  He hadn’t anticipated falling in love again. He almost felt blindsided by his feelings—the sudden change in his perspective.

  As with most young people, the day he’d made his commitment—his vows—he’d felt giddy, light-headed even, his love and anticipation for the future all encompassing. He’d declared faithfulness until his death, promising to let nothing come between him and the eternal bond.

  And then came Chelsea.

  Chelsea had been the love of his life in college. Someone he couldn’t imagine ever being without—someone he’d fucked and…cherished more than his own life.

  Her bouncy hair and personality, as well as her even bouncier curves, had kept him entertained and enthralled. He’d licked and caressed every inch of that glorious body of hers. Falling asleep with a pert, pointy nipple in his mouth, his nose resting upon the pillowed slope of her breasts more nights than he could count. Exploring every inch of her had become his favorite subject for college; he knew every mole and scar on her, and when they spooned together sweaty and sated from their most recent lovemaking, she fit into the curve of his body like they were one.

  Dominance and submission had naturally occurred for them. He’d always like spanking women. Emerson couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t imagined spanking a bratty girl, even as a very young boy.

  So one night when she’d mouthed off, “fuck you” and telling him to shut up for the last time, he didn’t hesitate to flip her over his lap, yanking the slip of turquoise material from her backside, placing several hard, well-earned slaps to her creamy bottom while she writhed over his lap, shouting for mercy.

  But instead of leaping up angrily when it was over as he’d expected, Chelsea looked over her shoulder at him, gave him an adorable pout, and ground her pussy on his denim covered knee, lifting her ass suggestively, winking at him in a silent command for more.

  Being a hot-blooded young male, he’d happily obliged and thus had begun their adventure into D/s. One-by-one, he’d instituted rules for her: No panties in his dorm room, kneeling at his feet, and blow jobs on command.

  And then…

  He’d had a dream. Jesus—the Jesus he’d seen in pictures his whole life—had come to him in his sleep, beckoning the college boy to follow Him, telling Emerson that there was a purpose and calling on his life. Once morning came, Emerson knew his life had taken a dramatic and life-changing turn. He had come to a crossroads. He’d chosen the Church.

  Chelsea had lost.

  And so had he.

  But Emerson’s destiny and calling were more important—more important than a fucking sexy-as-hell woman.

  Isn’t this what people decide—daily?

  Many, many people, current and through the ages, put their interests and desires on hold knowing that they have a purpose. Some, like Emerson, respond to divine intervention. A calling that spurs them into action. He knew he’d made the right decision, knew that this was the way he should go. The only way he could go.

  But in the wee hours of the night for the ten years he’d been in the priesthood, Chelsea would haunt him. He knew—had a niggling—that someday he’d see her again. And he wondered—fantasized—if maybe, just maybe, the same God that had pulled them apart would put them back together again. Once his purpose and calling had been completed, the same God would intervene again. Could that be possible?

  Chapter 2

  “Chelsea, you know I care, but I can’t deny a dream where Jesus meets me face-to-face in my sleep, telling me I have a higher call
ing and purpose. I have to do this. Emerson swiped at the tears tracking down his cheeks.

  Chelsea wanted to throttle him, wanted to shake the shit out of him. How? How could this be happening? They were supposed to be together—forever. They were meant to have their happily ever after—not this! “I’ll never find anyone like you. I’m not sure I want to either.” She attempted to leave, getting away from…him…this. She tugged her arm out of his grip, but he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

  He leaned forward, kissing her on the nose, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You will. You don’t believe it now, but someday your prince will come, and he’ll take you away. Maybe I’ll be there—watching in the distance—and if I think you married for anything less than love, I swear I’ll take you out back and blister your ass raw. Do you hear me?” His eyebrows furrowed, his lips thinning.

  “Yes, Sir.” She didn’t want to think of marrying anyone else. She wanted Emerson—he was the love of her life—not some stranger. “Maybe I’ll want you to come and spank me again on my wedding day. My priest, coming to chastise me one last time.” Her words broke, ending on sobs that erupted from her throat.

  Emerson pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently. “You won’t like that kind of spanking, trust me. I don’t want anything less for you. You deserve a good man, and he’ll need a woman who is totally in love with him. You’re a good woman, Chelsea. I have to believe that if God has a plan for my life, he’ll make sure to take care of you too.”

  She hoped so, but doubted that it was possible. She vowed that day that she’d always miss him.

  Her priest.