Chapter 21 _ Asher

Chapter 21

*Asher*

My steps were slow and measured as I trailed down the hallway to Father Sylvester’s office. Unfortunately, slow steps or no, there was no getting around what waited for me behind his closed door. If our sessions together were any indication, this was going to be a barrel of laughs.

I reached the door too soon, my hand poised to knock when his voice came from behind me, his breath tickling the little hairs on the back of my neck.

“You’re late, Miss Callaway. Not a good way to start out our evening. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Shame washed over my cheeks as I thought about what exactly I’d been doing while fantasies of Jackson Hawke played out in my mind only minutes earlier. I’d needed something good to help take the edge off before coming down to face my unwarranted punishment.

Since it wasn’t like I could go with the truth, I stalled. “Um . . .” I bit my lip. “I got lost?” As far as lies went, it was beyond weak. I’d been down here every night for almost two weeks now.

He snagged my wrist and brought the fingers of my right hand to his nose, inhaling deeply. Those dark eyes locked on mine, intense and needy. “In your panties?”

Hearing the good priest talk about my panties shouldn’t send all sorts of wicked butterflies swirling around my stomach, should it? I probably should have been a little more embarrassed that he could smell exactly what I’d been up to, but if he was going to be a dick and mention it, then I was going to own it.

“Jealous, Daddy?”

“Jericho. I’m not your priest, nor your father. And definitely not your daddy, Miss Callaway. I’m here to keep you in line, and if you’re going to be late because your hormones are so out of control you have to abuse yourself before you can meet your obligations, we’ll add extra time to your punishment.”

“Goodie. Just what I always wanted. More time on my knees with you.”

His jaw went tight, and he leaned in close. For a moment I thought he might kiss me, but he reached past me for the doorknob instead. “As you wish, Miss Callaway.”

I brushed past him, trying to ignore the delicious and smoky scent of him that reminded me of sin and all the things we could do in a confessional booth. Man . . . this priest has really brought my undiscovered fetishes to light.

“Shall I assume the position, then?” I asked as I breezed into the space.

He swallowed, and the tightly balled fists at his sides told me everything I needed to know. “As much as I enjoy seeing you on your knees before me, I’m afraid we have other matters to tend to before we get there.”

“And will the other sinners be joining us tonight? Or will this ‘matter’ be for my benefit alone?”

The slight twitch of his lips sent a zing of arousal through me. How could I be so completely turned on by Jackson , consumed by thoughts of what had almost happened between us, and then turn around and get wet for Jericho. Don’t forget what almost happened with Devon . . . and what did happen with Cian. Maybe Maeve was right about all this. I shoved the reminders away. Thinking about them when I was already feeling some kind of way was not going to help me get through whatever Jericho had in store.

“Your punishment is yours to serve and benefit from alone.”

“Can’t wait. So . . . if I’m not going to be kneeling, what am I going to do?” I glanced around to see if I could get a hint of what to expect.

He gestured to the simple chair in the center of the sparsely decorated room. “You may choose your punishment tonight. You put the safety of everyone in your class at risk by spilling the blood of Callie Donoghue. As challenging as she may be, you broke a cardinal rule. Blood is a trigger for many of us. And some are less controlled than others.”

“But I didn’t—” I broke off, frustration leaking through my voice. Then I sighed. “Never mind. It’s not like you’re going to believe me anyway. No one else ever does. What are my choices? Polish a crucifix? Write lines from the Bible? How does one repent for something they never did?”

A flash of something like tenderness passed over his features. “You may choose tedium or something more . . . direct.” His gaze flicked to a large bowl on his desk. “This bowl contains fifty-nine glass beads mixed in with identical beads of pure silver. Pick out every silver bead until only the glass ones remain. Endure the pain, and our session will be done sooner.”

I wasn’t known for my patience, so having to do such tedious menial work sounded like absolute torture. I wasn’t afraid of the silver burning my flesh, but what the hell was the point of sorting beads? What was it going to teach me, besides more creative ways to curse as the stupid things slipped through my fingers, making me have to fish them out over and over again?

“What’s behind door number two?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“Corporal punishment.”

“Wait what? You’re going to beat me?”

I swear to God, his palm twitched. “Spank. Not beat.”

Why . . . why did that make my insides flutter? “I’m sorry, I think I just had a stroke. Did you say you were going to spank me? Like I’ve been a naughty girl? What the hell kind of university is this?”

“You have been. And, yes, if you choose this punishment, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your insolent arse until you can’t sit down without a reminder of what my palm felt like on your skin.”

I had to look away; the intense searing heat of his gaze had me all twisted up inside. Made me want exactly what he was offering. Wait. Was I actually considering this? Did I want to feel Father Sylvester’s hand smacking my behind?

Yes. Yes, I did.

What did that say about me?

Fuck it. It would be over faster than bead counting, and while everyone would see the welts silver would leave on my fingers, no one would be the wiser if he left marks on my ass. He probably didn’t think I would ever even consider it. Well, the joke was on him. He wanted to spank me? Fine.

“I await your decision, Miss Callaway.”

“Do it.” I jerked my chin up, infusing my gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “Shall I bend over the desk, or . . .”

He took in a sharp breath, loud in the cavernous office, then with carefully controlled steps, made his way to the chair and sank down. “Over my knee.”