Irene had only studied Latin for a few years, and she was quite rusty, but she’d been able to make out a few words of Father O’Shea’s rant - “...hatever they say, you shall become” - something like that.She was running across the front yard of the church she’d gone to her whole life, when she heard Father O’Shea’s voice behind her. Looking up, she saw that he was poking his head out of the window of his office.“I do wish you wouldn’t run on the grass!” he said, and though Irene wanted to get out. "“It’s stunning,” she said, barely above a whisper.I stood behind her and kissed her neck. ”It looks even better with you here,” I said and she turned around. Her lips were full and moist, her breath tasted slightly of gin and her tongue had a life of its own, snaking between my teeth."Come on into the house," I breathed into her mouth. "Let's get rid of that awful hair down there." I'm very wet, Karla,” she said, using my name for the first time that I could remember."So am I."It took only a. More

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