Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
But this time, he traps my moan in one hand, while pumping two long fingers inside of me with the other. Heaven erupts on all sides of me, white flashes going off in front of my eyes. “He does make a good point,” Rune pants, slipping his fingers free of my sex and lightly teasing my clit with the pad of his middle finger, around and around and around until I’m jerking, whimpering. “I do want to breed a chained-up virgin.” He slaps my pussy quickly, so quickly, eight times at least, before squeezing it in a rough fist. “This one.”
Chapter Nine
Rune
I’ve been driven to madness.
An hour with Farrah’s lithe curves aligned with my strength. Her soft breathing. The scent of her, which calls to mind a meadow after rain. And the monsignor’s words circling my brain like vultures, feasting on my compassion. My gentleman’s nature.
What a pleasure it would be to mount something so tight, hmm, Father McDaniel?
Wouldn’t you like to breed a chained-up virgin, Father?
My flesh is winning this battle. I’m in unimaginable pain from having my cock crowded up against her asshole and the slick underside of her cunt. I can feel myself snapping. I can sense the deviant sexual genes that lurk inside me taking over. The devil on my shoulder tells me to claim what’s mine. Part of what’s driving my darker urges is knowing Farrah wants to be fucked.
She releases wetness that gives her away.
Every so often, she rides her bottom up and down my groin, perhaps an unconscious attempt to snap my tether.
Now, Monsignor Hannibal has fallen asleep, his snores filling the small bedroom and there is nothing that can stop me from taking her. Not the prospect of being defrocked. Not my determination to be a good, pious man. Nothing stands up to the velvet dampness of her pussy, so ready for a man’s seed. When I woke up two mornings ago, I was born to serve the lord. Here in the near darkness, my sole mission is plying my tight girl with sperm.
Fuck her.
Sweat breaks out along my hairline, my willpower attempting to wrestle back control, but then she shifts an inch against my dripping prick, and I moan silently into the air above her head. She is tempting me. She is breaking me. And in the demented heat of extreme arousal, I forget she’s a delicate, vulnerable girl. I forget that I’m supposed to be the one who treats her better than everyone else. The chains glint in the firelight and she becomes a vessel of relief for my pain. An offering for the gnashing beast that has been subdued for far too long inside of me.
Fuck her.
My left hand moves on its own, molding the front of her throat. Her surprised intake of breath only excites me more, God help me. My right hand slides beneath her hip, further around the front to her drenched cunt, squeezing two fingers into her damnably tight slit, pushing, pushing until I’ve filled her and she’s pulsing around my knuckles.
Oh, sweet Jesus. No wonder sins of the flesh exist. Men are doomed. Especially me, because I have the greatest gift of all. A beautiful, horny redhead trapped in my bed, her desire evident in my palm. Her need on full display.
“He does make a good point,” I manage, slipping my fingers free of her sex and lightly teasing her swollen bud with my middle finger, circling it until she starts to sob and squirm, smearing her wetness in my lap. “I do want to breed a chained-up virgin,” I admit, my tone gravelly. I slap that part of her that teases me to the edge. I slap and slap and slap her bratty cunt out of punishment, then twist it in my grip. “This one.”
“Y-you’re going to breed me?” she whispers.
Her question shouldn’t anger me, but I’m not myself. The overcome man I am right now in the darkness is only incited. A bull being shown a red flag. “You soak my dick for an hour in sticky temptation, then act surprised when I prepare to use it?”
I sense her shiver is from excitement, not fear. “N-no, I just…”
My fingers push deeper into the tight recesses of her, a low rumble compelled from inside me when I find the deeper I go, the snugger she gets. “This is at my service now.”
She takes two whimpering breaths. “Yes it is, Daddy.”
That title is a flame being thrown into a trunk of explosives. Yet somehow, I maintain the wherewithal to remember we’re not alone. The monsignor is asleep in front of the fire, his head tipped back, mouth open and snoring.
“Turn over on your back,” I say in a low voice, keeping one eye trained on the other man. “You’re going to hold still and stay very quiet while I rut you.”