Page 18 of Property of The Grump

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax my stiffening body. I should be used to all this hoopla by now. The photographs, the hate, the people that approach you on the street, but I’m not. I never will be.

“You’re okay,” Father Anderson says low and warm against the lobe of my ear. “I’ve got you.”

A rush of something hot and comforting washes over me as I stay tucked against his frame. I should’ve come to church sooner. I had no idea it would feel this soothing, that I would feel this seen. It’s been so reassuring to talk to a priest and be part of a community.

“I have an announcement,” Father Anderson says louder now, addressing the group as his big, warm hand still lies on the small of my back, my body perfectly molded into the corner of his chest. “Starting today, we have some big changes coming to Grace Valley Church. As I’m sure many of you have noticed, the church is in need of repairs small and large. We’ve got the roof, the doors, and too many other things to count. As one person, it would take me the rest of my days to finish the work here, and I believe you all deserve better. So, Wren here has been kind enough to offer her time and expertise to the community. She will be our new volunteer coordinator. If you or anyone you know has any skill set or materials that they’d be willing to sharewith the church, please give Wren here your information and she’ll be in contact with you soon.”

He glances toward me as though I may have something to say, and though it’s been ages since I’ve spoken to a large group like this, I feel safe with him next to me.

“Oh, and for those that I didn’t get a chance to meet today, my name is Wren Harlow. My husband, Zane, is running for mayor in the Springs.” I nod toward the round man with the baseball cap holding the camera with a lens the size of a telescope. “That man with the camera is Joey. He won’t be here all the time, but he will be documenting the work that we’re doing. I’ll make sure that he respects your privacy.”

“So, you’re doing this for publicity?” Leanne shouts, her arms crossed over her chest, her shoulders red from the wind biting against them. “You don’t really care about us or the church?”

“That’s not true,” Father Anderson presses. “Wren could’ve chosen any church, any organization to help. She chose our parish and we should be thankful.”

The crowd seems fine with this. In fact, they seem more interested in my cupcakes than they do the photographer snapping photos, though Leanne is still stewing in the back. I have a feeling she’s going to be trouble.

Father Anderson guides me off the steps, his hand never leaving my orbit as we tuck against a heavy hanging oak at the back of the property in front of the church, Joey snapping photo after photo of the priest and I, his arm around me, a smile on my face, my heart racing.

A cool breeze catches my hair and sends a cascade of strands across his face. He blinks through the curtain of locks then brushes them aside with amusement, our gaze catching as an impulsive warmth spreads through me like a fire caught wild, leaving me wondering why my heart is beating so hard.

Chapter Seven

Kade

Seven Years Ago

Wren is standing against the back wall of my office when I step into the room, the floral dress she’s been wearing so modestly all day now unbuttoned to her chest as she stares toward me with those blue eyes that glimmer in the light that filters through the windows.

I can’t figure why she’s unbuttoned her dress, though I don’t ask questions. There are no questions to be asked. My cock is hard as a fucking rock. Pulsing, aching, desperate in a way I’ve never been desperate before.

I’m hungry. Hungry for her body like a man who’s been starved for centuries.

I lean into her neck and breathe her in, wildflowers and fresh air. She’s so small next to me, so dainty, like I could lift her up and have my way with her however I’d like.

Lord, help me.

I’m not okay.

Urges that I haven’t felt in ages brew and bubble inside of me like I could come without her ever touching my cock… though I won’t let that happen.

I kick her legs apart, a portrait of Jesus staring at me with a disapproving glare as my hand finds her soft, juicy center. Iscrub my palm over her bare pussy and listen for the moans that echo as her mouth drops open.

“Right there,” she sighs as I tug her breasts from her bra and lean down to suckle her hard nipples, my tongue scraping over each one before my teeth.

She jumps back and whines, my dick driving harder against her stomach. Lord in heaven, I love the way she squirms beneath my touch. The hitch in her breath, the high-pitched whine, the convulsions in her body as she bends and arches to meet my hand.

“Do you see how hard you make me?” I groan against the lobe of her ear, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin again. “Do you know how fucking wrong that is?”

Her back arches away from the wall, her pussy soaking my hand as she grinds up against me.

“Fuck me,” she moans. “Fuck me hard. I need to feel you now!”

The request is clear and concise, and before my brain can calculate every vow I’m breaking, my body reacts.

Hell, maybe my brain is reacting too because I can’t stop wondering what her tight, warm, soaking little pussy would feel like wrapped around my cock.

It’s carnal, primal, like nothing I’ve ever felt before,and I need it!