Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
A man of the cloth does not leave a parishioner’s need unmet. It’s my duty to help her, ease her suffering. I drag my hands up over the sweet curve of her ass and slide between the soft fabric and her softer skin.
She makes a small sound and scoots closer. The motion drags her damp pussy over my erection, and my vision blacks out for a half second. My fingers find the heat of her, the slick fire of her core. I bracket the softest flesh between two of my callused fingers and stroke her slowly.
“Oh, yes…” she pants. “There. Right there.”
Her own fingers find my collar, and she begins to trace the top of the stiff white fabric, her movements matching the pace of mine.
“More?” I ask with the tips of my fingers at the opening of her sex.
She drops her head so that her forehead rests against mine. “More.”
I slip my index finger inside of her, feeling the piercing of that whisper-thin veil of maidenhood. Virgin no more. The pain stills her for a moment and then she moves. I thrust another digit into her pussy. She rides my hand, rubbing against me like a cat desperate for attention. I add another finger. I know why this is forbidden. This—she—is addicting. Her whimpers and moans are a chorus I want to hear every minute of the day. The wetness of her cunt, the press of her tits, the taste of her tongue are sensations that I’ll never have enough of.
I want to look at her for hours, in this garden of punishment, in this prison of my own making. I am burning with need for her. My fingers inside of her pussy is not enough. I want my cock enveloped inside that sheath. I want her riding my erection and not my hand. I want those sounds coming from her throat and mouth to be because of my shaft, not just my fingers.
I want to feel the wet erotic suck of her and then the flood of cum on my thighs as she reaches her pinnacle.
I want. I want. I want. All of her.
“This is not the end,” I whisper fiercely before taking her mouth. I don’t know if she understands. I don’t know that I comprehend the vow I just made. My world has shrunk to her. Only her.
I thrust harder inside of her with fingers in her pussy and tongue in her mouth. I force her to take more until she bursts apart in my grip, crying out as she shakes and shudders from the force of the sensations. When the wave passes over her, when she finally calms and looks me in the eyes, her gaze is full of wonder.
She licks her lips. “I … want more.”
“Yes. And you’ll have it.” I claim her mouth once again.
If this is sin, then maybe I’m more suited for hell than heaven.
CHAPTER 12
ANGEL
I cling to Bjornsson. My orgasm is still coursing through my body. His mouth stays on mine as he thrusts two fingers in and out of me. Bjornsson’s hand is down the back of my pants. I rock my hips to press down on his erection.
I was on the verge of coming the second I felt it. It had taken me by surprise for some strange reason. The mere thought of me being the one to tempt this man to cross lines he never had before. I’ve never had someone do that for me. To pick me over anything else.
Bjornsson shifts, his fingers leaving me as he pulls his hand from out of my pants. I whimper in protest against his mouth. He turns us, laying me down on the bench.
“You wanted more,” he reminds me, pulling my pants along with my panties down my body. “The top,” he all but grunts. His eyes roam all over me, the same way they always do. “Off.” Bjornsson smacks my sex. I gasp. “Take it off or you’ll get another.”
In a bit of shock, I do as I’m told. The slap went straight to my clit, making it throb harder. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. But the ache is almost unbearable now as though I hadn’t just orgasmed moments ago. Bjornsson stands over me. I’m completely naked, laid out in his garden. Anyone could walk up to us right now.
Bjornsson's eyes roam up and down my body. I lie back down fully on the bench, my legs spread. He pulls at his collar. When he does, a smear of blood marks the white cloth. For a second, I thought his palm might be bleeding, but I realize the blood came from his fingers. When he took my virginity. The barrier of it, at least.
The sharp pain was sudden when he’d done it. It quickly faded and only turned me on more. Why do I keep enjoying these small bites of pain he gives me? Then it dawns on me.