Playing With Her Priests, page 1
Playing With Her Priests
A MFM Menage Romance
S.E. Law
Copyright © 2019 by S.E. Law
All rights reserved.
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Also by S.E. Law
Forbidden Fantasies
My Fiance’s Dad
Trailer Park Daddy
While He Watches
Her Secret Baby
The Clients
Hunger
My Dad’s Best Friend
My Best Friend’s Dad
Trapped By My Boss
Sweet Treats
The Man of My Dreams
His Candy Cane
Her Juicy Cherry
Her Honey Pot
Second Helpings
Sugar Walls
Please and Tease
Forbidden Fruit
Band of Brothers
Her Italian Wedding
Double XL
The Boyfriend Diaries
The Boyfriend Diaries
Mommy’s Ex
Mommy’s Boss
Mommy’s Landlord
Daddy’s Christmas Gift
Daddy’s Holiday Baby
Daddy’s Love Child
Made for Them
Built For Them
Sugar and Spice
The Naughty Party
Blackmail Fantasies
Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend
Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss
Blackmailed In The Boudoir
Blackmailed By My Teacher
Irresistible Bachelors
Sweet as Candy
Must Be Love
Meant To Be
Standalones
You’re Mine
Boss of My Panties
Naughty Relations
About My Daddies
About Last Night
About This Morning
About That Evening
Playing with Them
Playing with the Doctors
Playing with the Criminals
Playing with her Priests
Healing Hands
Dr. Feelgood
Dr. Man Candy
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Contents
About This Book
1. Mira
2. Jordan
3. Mira
4. Jordan
5. Mira
6. Mira
7. Jason
8. Mira
9. Jordan
10. Mira
11. Jordan
12. Mira
13. Jason
14. Mira
15. Jordan
16. Mira
17. Jason
18. Mira
19. Mira
20. Jordan
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Dr. Feelgood
Sneak Peek: The Clients
About the Author
About This Book
My growly, alpha AF pastors broke the ultimate vow in order to be with me.
* * *
When Pastors Jordan and Jason stepped up to the pulpit, the breath caught in my throat. These were the new pastors at the Village Church? The men had perfect lips, tattoos swirling up their forearms, and cocky, knowing smiles that made my heart race. In fact, all the female congregants let out a collective sigh when Pastors Jason and Jordan got up to preach.
* * *
But Jason and Jordan are no average men of the cloth. They are godliness personified, yet with a taste for sin.
* * *
Because I’ve taken a Promise Vow. It’s a vow to keep myself sacred and pure for the hands of my future husband …
… but these gorgeous men are temptation personified.
* * *
Not only will they show me the Garden of Eden but they’ll put the apple in my mouth by doubling down every time we’re together. Jason and Jordan were taught in divinity school to be shepherds to their flock …
… but what happens when the shepherds lose their way?
* * *
Reader beware: This book is *wildly inaccurate* and does not seek to represent the teachings of any particular church or denomination. But if you’ve ever dreamed about a hot preacher and wondered what it might be like, then you’ll definitely adore Pastors Jason and Jordan. Let yourself engage in some hedonism for a fun-loving romp that breaks all the rules: real and make-believe.
* * *
As always, my books have an HEA with no cheating and no cliffhangers.
1
Mira
“Okay, everyone. The homework is on the syllabus. I also have office hours today, so please don’t hesitate to come to me with any questions.”
Notebooks are shut, pens are capped, and materials are packed away into backpacks and purses. Class is over, and it’s time for everyone to leave. I’m still getting used to class ending without a bell but it feels like such a high school problem. No one else seems to be hesitant about exiting once the teacher dismisses us, but I guess I’m still conditioned to get out of my seat after a very particular ringing sound.
But now I am out of class, and whew! That one happened to feel extra-long today. It’s not that the teacher took any longer to teach, but I thought the hands on the clock were never going to get to their destination. It was just a survey course. Since I haven’t picked a major yet, Gen Eds are all I’m currently taking. I’m really hoping to pick an emphasis by the end of the semester because it feels like I don’t have much direction yet. My aunt told me not to worry about it too much because I’m young, but my scholarship won’t last forever, especially if I don’t do anything with this opportunity.
At the very least I have an idea of what I want. Art has always been of interest to me because it fills me with light and inspiration. That sounds along the right lines, doesn’t it? As a result, I talked to an advisor informally, and she suggested I look into the Art History major. Hmm, maybe. It’s worth a thought.
But I can’t even think about the future because right now my tummy is rumbling. Maybe class felt long because it’s mid-afternoon and I am starving. Zero side of existential crisis, just hunger, pure and simple. And actually, it’s a couple of hours past noon. We are deep into the day at this point and my stomach literally cramps a bit from being empty.
My class schedule is a little weird, so I’ve been having pretty late lunches. It’s okay because a snack here and there keeps me sustained, but today I forgot my snack of berries and yogurt. As a result, my stomach is rumbling up a storm, and I feel ready to tear apart a sandwich like a wild animal.
I guess college is taking some adjusting to, since I’m used to my mom preparing meals for our family every day. It’s my first time on my own, away from my hometown in a new city, and everything feels jarring. Learning how the subways worked took me an entire week, and I almost ended up in the Bronx a few times.
But I think I’ve handled it well so far. At least, after that first incident when I got off at Pelham Parkway and looked around, utterly confused. The people were different, the buildings seemed smaller, and even the Starbucks looked strange. It was then that I realized I was in a different borough altogether, and I got straight back onto the train while shaking my head.
But that’s okay. This is what New York is about. I’m so excited to be here for college, and away from the small town I grew up in. Plus, the food is amazing. I love trying new cuisines and they have everything here, from Ethiopian to Kurdish food. Who even knew that there was such a thing as Kurdish food? But I love kubbeh and tashreeb because who doesn’t love veggies wrapped in hot, toasty naan bread? Definitely not me.
I want to rush off to get me some food right now, but I’m waiting for my friend Jessie. We try and eat together a couple times during the week, and I love spending time with her. She was the first friend I made when I got here and really the only real friend I’ve made so far. She’s a born and bred New Yorker which makes her an absolute godsend because with Jessie by my side, navigating the city became one hundred times easier. She taught me all the tips and tricks, like where to get a metro card and how to tell whether a bus is going uptown or downtown.
But now I’m really starving, and I don’t see Jessie’s typically excited self bounding down the hallway. I’m a little tempted to just go and get some food. I feel really bad ditching her like this, but I can’t get my stomach to calm down and it sounds like the Loch Ness monster somehow got trapped in there and is splashing about furiously. Jessie wouldn’t mind, right? She likes the Loch Ness monster, after all. Unli
I decide to shoot her quick text.
Sry babe. Too hungry to wait. Meet you in the café!
She will most definitely understand. Jessie is really a great friend, and she gets my intense love of food because she’s also a curvy girl. I couldn’t have asked for someone better to get me through university.
I head to the cafeteria and get in line. I am so hungry. All the food laid out beneath the sneeze glass has my belly rumbling. I start piling it onto my tray, one dish after another. My eyes are probably bigger than my stomach, but that’s irrelevant. Right now, I just need sustenance bad.
I end by picking up two peanut butter and jellies right before paying. The sandwiches were just sitting there, looking so delicious, tempting me with their golden crusts and oozing red jam. Even with all the food already on my tray, the craving was so strong and so sudden that I had to grab them. A sandwich is really going to hit the spot. Just imagining the nutty taste combined with that fruity goodness had me salivating in line.
I finish putting away my wallet and find an empty table. Jessie still isn’t here, but I know she’ll stroll in soon. Her class lets out about ten or so minutes after mine, so she’ll see my text and head down.
I may as well start eating, though. My stomach is making way too much noise for me to just keep staring at all this food, and it all looks so good.
I begin unwrapping one of my sandwiches when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s probably Jessie, ready to give me a piece of her mind for not being able to wait just five minutes. Smiling, I turn my head
“Sorry, I didn’t–,” I say, stopping when the person standing behind me isn’t my best friend. Instead, I come face-to-face with Cindy Parson, queen of the mean girls.
I don’t like to think of her as my mortal enemy because that kind of thinking feels quite ungodly to me. Part of what gets me through my days is the power of prayer, and I don’t want to ruin my efforts to be good by dwelling on bad thoughts. Hopefully though, my devotion will get me through these next few moments, which I can already tell are going to be challenging.
“What are you sorry for, Mira?” Cindy asks, condescendingly.
“Nothing,” I mumble. “That wasn’t meant for you.”
I’ve never understood why Cindy dislikes me so much, but ever since our first day of classes, she’s had it out for me. I honestly think the only thing I’ve ever said to her was “hi.” Maybe she felt like it was a sassy hi, and has hated my guts ever since.
Even more appalling, I always thought this clique-y bullying business was part of high school, and that I’d leave it all behind when I went on to college. At least, that’s what all the books I read said. People were finally going to be able to spread their wings and find their footing, and give up their need to taunt others. It’s all rooted in insecurity, said the books, and I believed it fervently. But so far, those books haven’t been accurate.
“Whatever, it’s unimportant,” Cindy says while waving her hand dismissively. “However, I see you haven’t taken my advice.”
Judy, Trish and Pia, part of the mean girls’ clique, snicker behind her. They’re all carbon copies of one another, and Cindy is their leader. Perfect Cindy with her long, straight blonde hair, her make up always perfectly done, and that sickly sweet smile.
“What advice?” I ask hesitantly. I certainly don’t remember anything. She lets out a loud, theatrical sigh.
“You know that bread makes you fat, right? They’re carbs and your body doesn’t process carbs well. But I guess you’re not really worried about that, are you? Too little, too late?”
“I, um…”
“You’re literally just eating sugar and fat with all that peanut butter and jelly. The jelly is the sugar and the peanut butter is the fat. In fact, everything on your plate is just going to make you bigger. Like, you don’t need any more of that in your body. Come on, Mira. Aren’t you tired of being disgusting? You have to be. I would be if I looked like you.”
I have no idea what to say. What am I supposed to say? Whichever way I answer her question, it’s going to make me look like an idiot. And this faux concern she’s preaching is getting on my nerves. I don’t think I could form a coherent comeback even if I wanted to.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” one of Cindy’s cronies titters.
“I don’t know, I just like PB&Js, I guess,” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. That’s all I can think of in reply. But also, it is really that simple. I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so I got two. Why can’t they accept that and leave me alone? Would it be different if I preferred ham and cheese?
The girl crew scoffs and rolls their eyes. Their plates are a far cry from mine, consisting of nothing but small bits of salad and glasses of water. I’ve seen them around enough times to realize they don’t eat carbs, sugar, gluten, fat, and definitely not salad dressing.
And while I don’t understand that, I respect their choice to put what they want in their bodies. But I don’t understand why they can’t extend the same courtesy to me.
Cindy looks at me with disgust in her eyes.
“It’s called having self-control, Mira. Maybe you should get some.”
What is she talking about? Self-control what? I eat because I’m hungry, not because I don’t have any self-control. That’s a myth when it comes to weight gain. People think that curvy girls have no self-control and stuff themselves with donuts when they should be working out. But it’s not true. Everyone in my family is chubby, and I’m no exception. It’s genetic, but I guess Cindy doesn’t realize that.
Moreover, with each passing second, I’m more and more uncomfortable. The stress of this encounter is weighing down on my shoulders, and pushing the air out of my lungs, making me feel nauseous.
Before I can fashion a reply, a few football players swagger over. One of them, Jet McCall, is a big man on campus with a pristine white letter jacket and charcoal black hair. But he’s got a mean glint in his eyes, and he walks straight up to Cindy and whispers something in her ear. She giggles before looking back at me and making me squirm. What they say to my face is already horrible, so what they say in secret is probably worse. But then again, I’m so irrelevant that it might have nothing to do with me at all.
“Well, it’s been nice helping the less fortunate, but now it’s time for me to get back to my much better life. Toodles,” she wiggles her fingers goodbye. “Don’t eat too much because it’s disgusting to see you stuff your face, Mira. And totally unnecessary, seeing that you already have plenty of extra padding.”
Her little crew giggles and follows her to another side of the cafeteria, a pack of football guys trailing behind them like lapdogs. God. I hate my life and wish I could sink into the floor. Why am I being bullied, even at age eighteen? I’m too old for this, right?
The worst part is that Cindy is really beautiful. She’s got long, golden-blonde hair that swishes left and right while she walks, and clear, cerulean blue eyes that look so innocent. I’ve always wanted to look like her, but it’s impossible. With my curly brown hair, mud-color eyes, and curvy figure, I’m just cast from a different mold.
As I watch Cindy’s crew walk away, I notice that Jessie has come into the cafeteria. Her tray looks similar to mine. We both have similar appetites and have bonded over our relationship with food, but at least Jessie makes me feel like I’m not wholly defined by it. Plus, she’s also had struggles with her body image, the way many women do.
