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She hates herself afterwards. Wonders why she allows herself to be used. Can't she at least say no to him one single time? Yet, she doesn't and both of them know she never will. She can't. She craves him like a drug, needs him inside of her like junkies crave drugs inside of their veins. In the middle of the night he comes for her. She feels his warm hand touch her face. They don't speak. He takes her by the hand and leads her outside. In a dark secluded spot, surrounded by bushes and trees, she gets down on her knees and does things to make him scream her name. She is both ashamed and happy – to know that she can ignite that amount of passion in him does her heart good. Her knees and legs are already dirty now. Dirty – it is how she feels inside. It is her true nature – she can't turn away from it. They fall down on the ground together as he enters her. Sensations of pain and pleasure collide. It is this that she craves. The intensity of carnal sin is what she needs: friction, rubbing, licking, biting. All of it so very wrong but what she must have. She moans as the world goes black and silent. The sensations shut out all of her other senses. She feels nothing but pure pleasure. For a brief moment they are all that exist in the world. He explodes inside of her. It is the only time in her life that she feels complete. She enjoys the short lived bliss that follows – the brief moments she is in his arms, his chest against her bosom, the texture of his hair in her hands, and how his hands feel on her arse. It is all over too soon. She prays that he will at least say good bye this time. When they see each other everything will be different. They will not be lovers, barely acting like friends. Yet, each night she hopes that he will come and lead her into the cold dark night.

She turns to go and looks at him one last time. He is her addiction, her downfall. "Good night, Father Anderson." She whispers.

"Thank you, Wolfe." He whispers back.

For a moment - she is happy.