The Pastor

by Matilda Martel

  It’s not like I’ve started sewing my wedding dress. I’ve just looked through a few Simplicity patterns. No harm in that.

  He exhales slowly and when he takes a long sip from his shake, I know he’s disappointed in my lack of ambition.

  “Sadie...”

  Attempting to shift the focus of his disapproval, I cut him off.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t have a family on my own and I’m only telling you what I want, not what I’ll do. It’s just a nice dream.”

  “It is a nice dream. And I think you’ll make a wonderful mother.” He smiles with condescension.

  “What do you dream about Pastor Troy?”

  I catch him off-guard. He blushes and almost spits out strawberry milkshake across the table. Laughing to himself, he wipes his mouth and reflects on it a moment. His broad shoulders, wider and more powerful than any decent pastor worth his salt requires, slouch a bit then rise back up when he inhales deep, preparing to wow me with a long tale of ambition and years of clawing his way to the top of the ministry.

  “My dreams are a lot like yours, Sadie.” He flashes a lazy smile that sends legions of butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

  “How so?” I lean closer and push the fries back to his side before I devour more than my share.

  “I want a simple life. That’s why I chose this parish in New Hampshire. It’s small and serves two small towns. I’m taking over for a retiring pastor who is the only pastor. It’s a little colder than I’m used to, but the place is beautiful and quaint, like something out of a postcard. My church is ancient, on the edge of some woods, near mountains, lakes and even an old covered bridge. It’s in the middle of the two towns and my new home is being built as we speak. It’s simple, but big, enough for a large family. My dream is to marry the right girl, make her happy and fill it with babies.” He stares at me provocatively, his jade eyes roaming my figure, holding me enthralled by their intensity.

  This man just described my deepest, darkest fantasy, something lifted from my favorite romance novel. But there’s no way he’s read Autumn in Manchester.

  Do men read those things?

  Sipping my iced tea, my hand trembles slightly as heat courses through my veins. He’s a strange man, far too handsome for me, but he seems to like me. He can have any girl he wants at that church. There’s Emma Duncan, Sophie Ryan, or that redhead with the braces who everyone says looks like a young Marilyn Monroe when she was still going by Norma Jean. Why does he like me? Is Mama testing me? Did she put him up to this as some big joke?

  Oh Jesus, did she find my book? That witch!

  Narrowing my eyes, I smile and nod. “That’s sweet. I hope you find your girl, Pastor Troy. Can you take me home, now?”

  Chapter 5

  Troy

  I’m not sure what happened. She sits quietly next to me on the car ride home. Her smile is gone and her body’s tense. I’m not sensing sadness, only anger. Maybe I shared too much. Perhaps, she wasn’t ready to hear all about my house in New Hampshire and me wanting a big family. That can’t be an easy thing for any woman to hear, even someone who wants a family.

  I couldn’t help myself. When I heard her say how eager she is to become a mother, all I could think about was stroking her belly, swollen with my baby and spreading those lush thighs to forage for honey. Even now, the thought of making love to her, filling her to the brim with my seed, watching her hips swell and her breasts grow even larger, makes my cock ache in my trousers.

  “Sadie, is something wrong?” I shift in my seat, trying to hide the bulge rearing its ugly head.

  She starts to nod, then stops, catching herself. “It’s nothing. Thank you for taking me out. I don’t get to do much of anything.”

  “Because of your mother?”

  She nods, shyly, wringing her hands in her lap. When we near her house, she grabs her purse and reaches for the door before I’ve had a chance to come to a full stop. Placing my hand on her arm, I try to prevent her from leaving in anger.

  In a broken whisper, I make my plea. “I’m sorry if I said something to offend you, Sadie. You’re a very pretty girl. You’re prettier than any girl I’ve ever known, and I get tongue-tied being so close to you.”

  Her expression softens, but she’s still tense.

  “Please don’t be angry with me. I only have a short time left here and I want to get to know you better, that’s all. We want the same things. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

  She nods.

  “Did I say or do something?” I mumble my words nervously and offer her my hand. I can’t afford to ruin this. There’s no time for a long-drawn-out courtship. I need to put a ring on this beautiful, flawless hand before the end of July.

  She doesn’t take it right away. Staring at it, she touches the palm of my hand with her fingertips and grasps my pinky.

  Pouting, she gazes into my eyes and sighs with remorse. “I didn’t mean to...it’s just...I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  Bringing her fingers to my lips, I kiss each one, desperate to touch her, but wanting to make my intentions for her, for us, clear.

  Tilting my head, I lean in closer. “What do you doubt about me? My feelings? Do you doubt your own?”

  “My own?” She furrows her brow.

  “Yes, your own. You can’t possibly doubt mine. I don’t think I’m a good enough actor to hide the way I feel when I'm this close to you.”

  I brush a few strands of stray hair off her forehead and quickly note how the feel of my fingers on her skin brings gooseflesh running down her arms.

  There you are, little girl.

  “Why would you like me? There are so many--” I cut her off. This is nonsense.

  Kissing her knuckles, I clutch her hand tightly and press it firmly to my chest.

  “That’s your mother talking, Sadie. There is no one like you. I’ve never seen anyone prettier in that church, in this town, in this state or any other state I’ve visited who compares to the wonder that you are. Do I make myself clear? And that’s just your exterior. The person you are makes you so much more beautiful.”

  Releasing her hand, I lift her chin and lean my forehead into hers. To be this close to her is madness, she makes me lose control of my senses, my morality, my sense of duty, but it’s too late. I happily surrender to it. I'll wallow in her and this insanity until the end of my days if I can wake up this close to her every morning.

  She swallows and timidly chokes out a few words.

  “Do you promise you’re not testing me for Mama. You’re not working with her to see if I’ll do something bad?”

  I’m genuinely stunned. What in the world?

  “Of course, I promise. I would never do that to you or anyone else. Sadie, I like you. I’m crazy about you.”

  Closing the small space between us, I focus on those perfect, pink lips, drawing nearer, licking my own, clenching my jaw, holding my breath until I’m centimeters from her face. My body trembles with need, I’m desperate to kiss her, but I need her to know this is real.

  “Sadie...”

  “Troy?” Her heavy lashes flutter and her breath catches. She wants to be kissed, I can feel it, and see it. She’s not being subtle.

  “I’m not going to kiss you.”

  “What?” Her voice is louder than she expects, and she covers her mouth in humiliation.

  “Not yet, sweetheart. This is our first date, kind of. If I could take you on real dates, I would, but I don’t think your parents would approve and I don’t want anything to keep us apart right now.” I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  Biting her lip, she pouts and lowers her head, shyly.

  “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  I stare at her full lips, so soft and inviting. This is going to be one of the hardest things I’ll ever do, but I need to do it.

  “More than anything, but you and I are going to have a brief, but somewhat old-fashioned courtship, Sadie.”

  Her
shoulders slump and her jaw drops. She’s not happy.

  “Tonight, I kissed your hands several times. That’s enough liberties for one night. The next time we meet, I’ll kiss your cheek. The third date is the appropriate time for a kiss, I read that somewhere. And from there on, we take one additional liberty, two kisses, then three, always adding a small indulgence until we marry, which I hope will happen in six weeks, if you’re agreeable. Do you think you would be agreeable? If everything goes smoothly, I mean?”

  Her big, blue eyes light up and a slow smile creeps over that delicious mouth. “You’re very persuasive, Pastor...”

  “Sweetheart, don’t call me Pastor anything. When we’re alone, call me Troy. I’m not your pastor. I don’t want to be your pastor. I want to be your husband and the father of all those babies you’re itching to have, okay?”

  She nods with excitement, then gets spooked when the porch light comes on.

  “Come on, darling. Let me walk you in.”

  When I get home, I take her discarded straw out of my pocket and stare at the color of her lipstick. If there was more, I’d smear some of it on my stiff cock when I jack off later tonight. Every time I watched her take a sip from my drink, I imagined her mouth wrapped around the head of my dick, swallowing me, gazing into my eyes when I slide it in deeper, always begging me to give her more and always leaving it covered in this pink lipstick.

  The more time I spend with her, the more I know she’s the one. I need to think of a plan to get her father’s approval and bring this out into the open before it’s viewed as shady or unsavory. With or without their approval, I’m taking my girl with me. Now that I’ve found her, no one else will ever do.

  I’ll die a lonely man without my Sadie.

  Staring at the straw, I kiss the stain, like a pre-pubescent girl and tuck it in my nightstand. For now, I’ll keep it safe. I’ll wait for the real thing.

  Chapter 6

  Sadie

  I stayed up late looking through wedding dress and baby clothes patterns in my Simplicity catalog. I got an A in Home Economics and won first prize at the small fashion show the school hosted for the sewing portion of our class. Ever since then, I try to sew whenever I can. If Troy wants to marry in six weeks, I don’t think I can pull off a respectable wedding dress by then. I’m afraid I haven’t reached that level of expertise and my hand-me-down sewing machine has its limits. Besides, I’m pretty sure Mama would notice if I were constructing a wedding dress in my room.

  Rushing downstairs, I cut some cucumbers for my eyes and run back before anyone is the wiser. Mama and I are going to the Ladies Auxiliary’s luncheon at the church to plan out this month’s meeting and Troy will surely be there for the men’s meeting.

  Lying on the bed with cold cucumbers over my lids, I run my fingers over my hand and think about the way his lips felt, trying to remember the musky scent of his cologne when he drew his face so close to mine.

  Why oh, why didn’t you kiss me, gorgeous man?

  When I think about all the pretty things he said, the church, the babies, me being pretty, my stomach twists wondering if it’s really happening, if it’s all real. I want to believe him, but I’ve never felt especially pretty. For years, Mama has drilled it into my head that men will chase me for one thing and one thing only. Is it possible that someone like him, so sweet and kind, wants to make me his wife?

  Drifting off, I can see it now.

  A little white church, old, wooden on the edge of a forest that’s alive with autumn colors. Troy stands in front, wearing a cleric’s robe over his black suit, welcoming his parishioners, but ultimately waiting for me and a trail of children to arrive, from the baby in my arms to the two toddlers at my feet dressed in their Sunday best holding hands, following their Mama to church to see Daddy preach.

  When he sees us, he rushes over, squatting and extending his arms to lift the little ones into his arms and coming back up to give me a kiss. He’s not afraid to show affection in front of his congregation. I’m his wife, and he loves showing off how much he loves me.

  But the best part happens after church, when the little ones take their nap and he and I are alone, helping one another get out of our Sunday clothes. He wraps his arms around my waist and whispers nasty words in my ear about all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about me while he watched me in church.

  “Isn’t that how all of this started?” I laugh, as his lips find my earlobe and his light breath sends a chill down my spine.

  “It is, and didn’t it turn out perfectly for us, my love?”

  He trails slow kisses down my neck as he unzips my dress and slides it off my shoulders. I caution him not to make too much noise or he’ll wake the baby, cooing in his crib nearby, but he only promises to try. His strong hands fall gently down the slopes of my torso, molding around my ass and he can’t help himself, he has to squeeze my flesh hard, digging his fingers in as he lets my dress fall to the floor. I shudder at his touch, aching to feel him inside me once again. We made love at dawn but hours later, I’m craving my husband’s cock once more, filling me, stretching me, claiming my pussy as his and his alone. He’s the only man I’ve ever known, and I don’t need to know any others to be certain there is no one else that could ever satisfy me like him.

  “Didn’t we say we’d try for another baby soon?” He utters seductively, as his hand cups my gushing pussy and his fingers work through my folds, petting my clit with such finesse, I break my own rule and cry out with ecstasy.

  Shaking my head, and winding my fingers in his hair, I mumble my reply trying desperately to remain upright while he strokes me into my first of many orgasms of the afternoon.

  “We did not, you, lying, virile, hateful man. Your son is barely a year old. We said we’d wait until he was two. I’ve already given you three. You can w---” I can’t finish my sentence. Shivering helplessly in his powerful grasp, I lean back into him, letting him finger and stroke my pussy until my hips convulse in his hand and my back arches against his chest in a fit of passion. Lifting me off the ground, he carries me to bed and proceeds to tear off his clothes, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor. Waving his finger, he points to my bra and orders me to remove it. I happily comply and scoot to the back of the bed, letting him walk on his knees across the mattress, holding his huge, hard cock in his hand.

  “Is that for me, baby?” I moan, as I spread my legs, offering myself, showing him the mess he’s made of me before we’ve begun.

  “Look at how wet you are, you bad girl. This is the way I love to see you, baby. I love when you’re soaked and ready for me.” My heart races and my pussy quivers with anticipation, as he brings my ass forward, spreads my knees back and positions that beautiful cock at my entrance, letting me watch him start to slide it in.

  “Oh Troy, fuck me. I don’t care if you get me pregnant again, just fuck me. Fuck me until my pussy is so full of your cum it drips down my legs. Please.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Sadie. And don’t forget you begged me for it, baby.”

  “I won’t.”

  Just as his cock starts to slip in...

  I jump straight out of bed and the cucumbers fly off my face.

  “SADIE! Can you hear me? Are you almost ready?”

  Clenching my fists in anger, I punch my pillow and toss it to the other side of the room.

  That woman ruins everything!

  Chapter 7

  Troy

  I don’t know very much about Royce Garrity. He’s my age, maybe a few months older, but he and I play basketball whenever the typical workouts grow tiresome and a few of us are looking for a change of pace. Lately, I’ve been so wound up over Sadie, I’ve been looking for any excuse to blow off excess energy.

  He’s not typically the kind of person I’m comfortable being friends with. Wealthy people tend to make me feel ill-at-ease. And I don’t mean average wealthy people, like doctors or lawyers. I mean multi-millionaires. But in all fairness, until today, Ro
yce seemed like a nice enough guy.

  Until today, I never knew he wants my Sadie.

  “Troy, Royce has done so much for the church and for the congregation. He’s donated money to build the new day care and the playground for the children. I don’t need to mention how much he pays in tithes, which he paid in full for the remainder of the year despite his decision to move back to Denver--” I cut off Pastor Reynolds, having grown impatient with his fawning.

  “What is it? What are you asking me to do for Royce?”

  He frowns. Obviously, he was working his way up to something big.

  “It’s come to my attention that you and Sadie Quinn are close.”

  Furious that he’s found me out and worried he’ll try to encourage me to stay away from her, I jump out of my chair in a huff.

  “What are you implying? Sadie Quinn is a lady. She and I are friends.” Glaring down at his confused expression, I come to the quick conclusion that he had no accusation in mind, but I remain indignant for appearance’s sake.

  “Troy, please, sit. This isn’t about you. This is about Sadie and Royce.” As he stirs his coffee, time momentarily freezes for me. The sound of his spoon scraping the side of the ceramic cup grows louder and louder in my ears and the words Sadie and Royce hovers over us both, suspended in mid-air like Eeyore’s dark cloud.

  What the fuck does that rat bastard want with my Sadie?

  Gnashing my teeth, I grip the bottom of my chair so tightly, I fear I’m going to rip it out from under me. Furious, I stare at him wild-eyed, nostrils flaring, hackles raised, but he’s too fascinated with the milk swirl in his cup to notice.

  “Royce would like your assistance. His intentions are completely honorable. He wants to marry Sadie, not carry on some illicit affair.”