The Consequence of Secrets - Part Two: A Priest Romance by Eve Cates

Emma
    “l went to the bakery and picked up some of those pastries you like for breakfast. They're on the table when you're ready," Gabe says kindly, sliding his hands around my waist and kissing me on the back of my neck. I hate it.
    This morning he’s being especially nice because I’m leaving the house to resume my normal activities. He wants to make sure I’m a good girl and don’t go telling anyone what he did to me – not that I would. He’s seen to it that I wouldn’t dare cross him.
    You see, Gabe is smart, and despite claiming that he loses control when he hurts me, I know for a fact that he’s probably one of the most controlled men you’d ever meet. It’s why he’s never put me in hospital, because he’s always in control – no emergency room visits, no paper trail to show a pattern of abuse.
    “You look nice,” he comments, looking at my reflection in the mirror while I brush powder over my face to set my thick layer of makeup.
    “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes meeting his momentarily as I smile.
    He presses a kiss to the side of my head. “I wish I had more time at home today, you smell so fucking good. Think about me today while I’m gone, I want you wet and ready when I get home,” he growls in my ear before telling me he’ll see me for breakfast.
    Despite the lewd comment, this is actually one of the rare times I can stand being married to Gabe. In the days or weeks after he’s beat me, he’s docile, and I don’t have to do anything except be available for his…needs.  It’s the only time I can truly rest because he’ll never beat me on top of a beating. It’s a sad fact, but it’s true.
    Walking out into the dining room, I pull out the seat beside Gabe where he’s set out a fruit Danish and a cup of coffee for me. But before I sit, he grabs a hold of my waist and pulls me toward him. When he turns in his seat, I see his enormous erection tenting his pants.
    “I thought you didn’t have time,” I whisper, parting my legs when his fingers inch up the inside of my thigh.
    “I don’t,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire as his fingers connect with my core and he rubs until my panties grow damp. “But I’ll be late for this.”
    His fingers move, pushing the elastic to the side as his fingers slide into my depths, pumping back and forth. I hate the way my nipples harden. I hate that he knows how to play my body like an instrument. It makes all the times he just straight up fucks me and tells me to come so much more offensive, because he knows how to touch me so I enjoy it. He just doesn’t care enough until he’s hurt me enough to nearly break me.
    I stare into his eyes, just how he wants me to, and I try to fight it. I try to resist, but my body is a tight coil and when he slides his fingers out then presses my warm silky juices against my clit. I can’t help but release a little moan.
    “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, working me back and forth, in and out. “I want you to come for me.”
    The feeling intensifies, and his voice is gentle as he coaxes me. “Come,” he whispers, and I do. My body shaking as I release a moan, my juices flooding over his hand.
    Withdrawing his fingers, he pulls my panties down and pushes my skirt up before freeing his cock and guiding me so I’m sitting on top of him, riding up and down. He unbuttons my blouse, his hands pulling it free from my skirt before he digs his fingers into my flesh, gripping, and pulling, forcing me to take him even deeper as his fingers dig painfully into my hips.
    I let out a cry of pain, and he does it again, his pelvis ramming into mine like a crashing of bones. Then he holds me still, and his hand moves to my breast where he grips it tight then lowers his mouth, biting into the soft flesh as he comes inside, the pain a sharp sting as he marks me yet again.
    Then comes my most hated part. “Make me a son, Emma.” And then it’s over, and I’m removed from him as he tucks himself back inside his