The Good Bad Girl Read Online Ella Goode

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Novella, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)


The Abbey is a neutral space in the midst of a lawless city and I stand as its steward. Anointed by the High Power and answerable only to the Bishop, I keep the peace. Sometimes people try to bribe me with gifts—property, cash…people. None of that interest me. After all, I’m a man of the cloth. I’ve said my vows and abide by them and I have never, ever been tempted to stray. This new gift might break me. She might make me forsake my vows. She’s definitely leading me down the road to sin.


Okay, I was dumb. In my attempt to protect my friend, I got kidnapped and dropped on the doorstep of some…church like place? I don’t really know. The stone mansion is surrounded by high walls and the windows are made of stained glass. There’s a man here with wearing vestments and oh, I’m going to hell for the things I’m thinking about him. Truth be told, though, I need to get out of here because I’m worried if I stay, I’ll never want to leave.

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“You’re a priest?” shouts the girl when I enter the small antechamber where my staff has placed Kane Santino’s gift. I stop short when I see her. Jet black hair, honey complexion, eyes as dark as my soul. Her sneaker-clad feet dangle in front of her. Idly, I speculate on her age. Old enough to know better, but too young to be here, I conclude. I rein in my galloping imagination and reply, “Is there a problem?”

“No priest I know would tie a girl to a chair.” She jerks against the bonds.

I drag a finger along my white collar. If she knew, she’d probably scream in anger. She has all the hallmarks of a good girl, which means she’s off limits to someone like me. I place a hand on her head. “Careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Unless she likes that. Unless the slight bit of pain would make her body clench with excitement and anticipation. Unless the bite of a strap or the hot drip of candle wax brought out moans of pleasure. Then she could hurt herself. Or I could do it for her. I make a careful fist with my hand, squeezing my fingers tightly until need loosens its grip on my neck.

“As if you care.” She jerks again with an angry scowl etched into her brow. Not even those lines can mar her prettiness. She probably looks like an angel when she cries. Men have laid treasures at her feet before. I’m sure of it. Where did Santino find her and what was important about her? That’s more important than anything. I don’t want to have to fight his organization. I laid down my weapons long ago. Someone in this dirty world needed to be an arbitrator, a Switzerland, and why not me? Of course, I had to snuff out a few contrarians, but no one opposes my position now. Everyone has acknowledged the necessity that is Father Bjornsson and the Chapel. In the past, people would’ve brought this girl to my doorway as a prize. No one does that anymore since these are the types of sinful things I’ve rejected.

I capture her jaw in my palm and turn her face from left to right. “You look too fine to be caught up in Santino’s messes. Although my advice might be too late, hmmm?”

“How about you then? Are you just the right amount of ugly to be doing business with this Santino guy?”

I burst out laughing. “Yes, of course. No one likes this face.” I lightly slap my cheek. The girl flushes and averts her gaze. I’ve been called a lot of things in the past—heartless, amoral, ruinous—but not ugly. I’m amused. “What part of my features bothers you the most?”

“Any guy who has to ask for compliments is a guy with a small dick.” She sniffs.

“A small, wicked guy would feel the need to disprove this immediately.” I tilt my head to the side and catch her eyes. “I’m not here to hurt you, Angel, but there’s a girl at Kane Santino’s home. You have a relationship with her. Why don’t you share with Father Bjornsson all the details? You can consider it your confession for the week.”

Silence descends as the girl’s mouth remains stubbornly closed. I could pry it open. I have my hands, the pills in my pocket, and the belt around my black wool pants, but I do nothing. I let the silence hang between us like a heavy cloud. This girl has a sweetness about her, an innocence that you can almost feel. It stirs something primitive inside of me. I’m not a man given to reckless impulses. I’ve built my empire on steady, thoughtful decisions. It has made me reliable to people in all walks of life. If there’s a problem that you can’t solve, call the Chapel.