Sasha's POV

I pushed open the heavy oak door of the old church, the familiar scent of incense and aged wood meeting me as I walked in. My heart raced with that delicious mix of fear and excitement I’d come to crave. At eighteen, I knew exactly what I was doing when I wore this tiny plaid skirt that barely covered my ass and the tight white crop top that made my full breasts strain against the thin fabric. My long dark hair swayed down my back as I walked down the aisle, my heels clicking softly on the stone floor.

I was here for him. Father Samuel.

He was...