Thorne’s POV.
Mary had a little lamb.
But Sister Mary here didn’t have a lamb—she had a cunt. And I was struggling, really struggling, not to tear it apart with my teeth and tongue right now.
I cleared my throat and dipped the soft bread into the tea. Took a bite. Then slowly picked a few slices of fruit. Chewed slower. She watched me—innocent, gentle. Too sweet for her own good.
I swallowed.
"So… even if Sister Annalisa comes back," I started, voice calm, "would you still like to remain in this parish? Or you’d rather leave?"
She tilted her head a little, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. Her habit shifted just slightly. Enough to show a bit of her neck. Creamy. Smooth. f**k.
“I think I’d like to stay,” she said softly, her voice almost like a whisper. “It’s peaceful h
