SIENNA’S POV**

I was shaking with pure, filthy need by the time I reached the rectory door the next night.

The church had felt too public, too risky. But here — in Father Lucian’s private quarters behind the sacristy — there were no candles watching, no crucifix looming. Just a heavy wooden door, a dimly lit hallway, and the promise of being completely used.

He opened the door before I could knock.

Father Lucian stood there in nothing but black pants, chest bare, muscles gleaming in the low lamplight. His cock was already half-hard, the thick outline pressing against the fabric like it knew exactly what was coming.

His storm-gray...