Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Aww hell.
“This here’s Delilah,” he says.
Our eyes lock, and my pulse thunders. Shit. The girl isn’t just an angel. She puts any fucking angel shit I’ve ever seen to shame. She’s beyond beautiful—this heady mix of pure, wholesome southern charm, and a Playboy college-girl fantasy. My cock instantly hardens, painfully so. It’s a reminder that I’ve been without the touch of a woman for a very, very long time.
There was a time, years ago when I first started this little entrepreneurship, where I’d have gladly, uh, partaken of the fruits of His flock. Lonely widows, curious and bored housewives, and God bless those “good Christian” girls who think a cross around their neck somehow absolves them of all sorts of sinful shit.
But that was years ago, and that was a different me. That me realized that if I was going to succeed at this, and actually make money, and not, you know, get shot, I needed to run things like a business, not a frat party. The dalliances were never fucking worth it, anyways, and always left me empty and hating myself. Don’t get me wrong, I am only a man, and I firmly believe a man needs his vices to get through this world. But that list of vices over the last year or so has sadly not included temptations of the flesh.
Believe me, you keep enough of a whiskey habit going, and it’s the only comfort you’ll really need.
For a man who’s bullshitting his way across this great country pretending to be pious, I’ve actually kept strangely celibate for a long time. I’ve forced myself to concentrate on the showmanship, and of honing my ability to separate fools from their money. But I take one look at this girl—at Delilah—and my walls begin to crumble.
The pulsing, thick erection tenting my bathing suit under the water is a pretty clear indicator of that.
“So we’re not too late, Preacher Gabriel?”
I blink. For a moment, I want to say yes. I want to say fuck yes and blow his fucking mind and shatter all of these people’s ideas about me before I pack up my shit and blow out of town. All because of her, because I know damn well this is trouble. I know she’s trouble, not because of her, but because of what she clearly does to me. And that’s trouble I do not need if I’m going to make this whole thing work.
“Brother Jedediah—”
“I brought cash, if that’s okay?”
He raises a fistful of dollars, and I groan. Fuck me, it might as well be thirty cursed pieces of silver. But a sinner like me sees that shit, and whatever reservations I have melt away.
I smile, and I nod. “Of course, brother!” I crow. My eyes dart back to Delilah, and I groan when I see the blush on her face, and the odd spark in her eyes. I want to tell myself there’s something wicked there—that this pretty little southern belle in the chaste white dress is hiding some very impure thoughts about yours truly. But I know that’s just my own imagination. No, not a chance. This girl is way too pure looking, and this town is way too bible-thumping for that to be real.
I make a mental note that I should probably start jerking off more to keep my head focused, and I smile once again.
“Well then, brother Jedediah. Which of you would like to be bathed in His cleansing waters first?”
“You go, papa,” Delilah whispers quietly. She swallows thickly and turns to smile at her father. “Please, you go first.”
Jedediah beams from ear-to-ear, and he turns to look at me. “Just step right in?”
As soon as I can get my fucking rock-hard cock to go down, yeah, knock yourself out, buddy.
“But of course, brother Jedediah,” I say gently, thinking of the most gruesome shit I can think of to will my dick down. I start going over baseball stats in my head as he kicks his shoes off. He’s wearing a bathing suit and a long-sleeved black shirt with “Canaan Auto Repair” on the front of it over his rounded belly, and he starts to climb the steps. Luckily, by the time he’s easing his big frame into the water, my cock is no longer in danger of starting some very awkward conversations.
“Brother Jedediah!” I bellow, more to the crowd than to him. “Do you renounce Satan and his wicked ways!”
“I do!” he bellows so loudly it takes me back a little. They’ve all screamed it, but Jeb here has the performance of the day, by far. Shit, he’s even getting a little misty-eyed.
“Then come and be cleansed!” I roar. I grab him, and I grunt, my muscles straining to lower him back into the water. Jeb here might have a beer-gut, but the guy is pure bear muscle. It’s just the final reminder I need to get my hungry fucking eyes off his goddamn daughter.