Essence smiled shyly then, and I caught the way his charm softened her right up. Priest naturally knew how to make people feel safe without trying too hard.
“Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” Priest greeted, extending a hand to each of them. “It’s good to finally see y’all outside of the courtroom.”
Mama smiled through her tired eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too, baby. Thank you for being there for our girl.”
He nodded sincerely. “I care about her…a lot. And I plan on being there for her while she’s inside. You got my word on that.”
Daddy studied him for a moment, then replied, “That right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m gonna look after her kids like they’re mine.”
For a second, nobody spoke. My mama’s lips trembled into a small smile, and my daddy’s face softened.
Mama finally said, “Well, we gon’ get out your way, let y’all enjoy your food.”
My parents stood up and nodded towards Priest again before they disappeared down the hall toward the guest room, Priest turned back toward the kids and started cracking jokes like he’d known them all their lives. Within minutes, they were giggling and arguing over which slice they wanted because it looked the cheesiest. As I went down the hall to get plates and napkins from the kitchen, Elijah was already asking Priest what kind of car he drove.
I stood there in the kitchen, blushing. Listening to him laugh with my babies and fitting so easily into a space that had been full of heartache for weeks made something in my heart unclench.
After the kids went to bed and my parents left, I told Priest he could stay.
The walls were closing in on me, like even they knew what tomorrow meant. I couldn’t stop thinking that this was the last night I’d fall asleep in my own bed for a long time. It would be the last night I’d kiss my babies good night.
As we lay in bed, I was nervous and scared. My heart wouldn’t stop beating painfully fast and my thoughts raced to everything I was facing, like cold cells, months without sunlight or touch.
But Priest slowed everything down.
He didn’t try to talk me out of the fear. He just stayed close. When his arms came around me, I felt my breath finally settle.
There was something about the way he handled me. It was careful and intentional, like he understood that I was breaking inside and he was determined not to let me fall apart. His hands didn’t just hold me; they anchored me. He spoke to me in a tender whisper, making sure that it was soft and deep enough to quiet the noise in my head.
The way he touched me… it wasn’t hunger. It was reverence. Priest handled me like I was something delicate. Not fragile, but precious. Like a cup of tea he didn’t want to spill. When his hands found me, it wasn’t about possession; it was about peace.
His fingers traced lazy circles down my spine, slow enough that I felt every one of them. It wasn’t even about where he touched me; it was abouthow. He was memorizing me through his hands, as if each inch of my skin had something to tell him.
He kissed me the same way, slow, unhurried, deep enough to reach something inside me I thought had been buried for good. His thumb brushed my bottom lip like a question. His lips lightly skimmed my shoulder. And I realized then that healing didn’t always look like strength. Sometimes, it looked like surrendering in the right arms.
After everything I’d been through, I didn’t think I’d ever be held like that again. I’d known hands that hurt, words that cut, and love that came with conditions. But Priest gave me something I didn’t know I still needed…gentleness. He touched me like a prayer, not a promise. And when he looked at me, I knew he saw every scar and still thought I was something worth holding.
At one point, he whispered, “You got me now. Ain’t nothin’you can do that’ll make me walk away.” He smiled with his thumb tracing my jaw until I had no choice but to meet his eyes and see his sincerity.
We lay there skin to skin and heart to heart. His hand rested against the small of my back, his thumb drew slow, steady circles, like he was calming something wild inside me. And somehow, he was.
He turned me over so that my back was pressed up against him. Placing slow, wet kisses on my shoulder, I felt him slipping that perfect dick inside of me.
I hissed, finding pleasure in it still being a chore to take him all in.
With one hand wrapped around the back of my neck and the other holding my waist, he started to stroke this pussy so slowly, as if it were with the specific intent for me to feel every inch of him.
“Oh, Priest,” I whimpered.
“Take this dick, baby,” he encouraged me.
His raunchiness caused me to shiver against his strokes. I could feel myself unraveling as his grip on my neck got tighter.
We moaned in unison as his hips came to rest against my round ass, over and over again, with long and slow strokes that landed deeply.
He sank his fingers into my waist and withdrew his dick slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the pleasure of my tight walls, then thrust back in again once he had almost left it entirely.
