Page 115 of Savior

Was it ever going to go in another direction?

“You choose me,” she whispers, kissing me lightly, over and over.

It’s not long before another storm is building between us, and she’s moving languidly again, my cock hardening inside her, ready to stir up more trouble.

“Ah, it feels good to be the chosen one,” she jokes, and I bite her shoulder, making her squeal.

“Shut up and fuck me before I have to make you repent.”

“Yes, Father.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

LUCA

Iwake suddenly, with the urge to come and a tingle in my spine. My eyes fly open, landing on why sleep has run from me. Sloane looks up at me from between my thighs; the blankets lie in piles on the floor beside the bed. Her mouth, hot and wet, slides up and down my length, her throat gagging as she pushes her limits around the head of me.

“Sloane, are you trying to drag me to hell?” I seethe through gritted teeth.

Fuck, it feels so good. Each downward stroke has her mouth growing slicker, wetter as she sputters around my dick. Only last night, I decided to give up my faith and my life for her.

For this.

Long after she’d gone to bed, I begged that God would understand my decision.

He knows my flesh is weak; I’m his creation. But I was supposed to be better.

I can’t deny how right she feels, though. When she muttered in her sleep last night, snuggling closer to me and throwing her leg over my body, I closed my eyes in bliss.

She’s my other half. She’ll fill the hole that’s been empty since I was born.

I’ve never felt complete, not even when I was anointed one of God’s servants.

“Little dove,” I warn, but per usual, she doesn’t listen, only sucks and strokes, adding a hand as my cock swells in her mouth and erupts down her throat. I feel the convulsions as she swallows what I offer down.

“Such a good girl; look how good you swallow Father Russo’s cum,” I breathe.

Through the fading haze, I watch her as she straightens on her knees, her body bare.

All except for my rosary. The same one I’d slide through her pussy days ago in this very bed.

Soon, I won’t be able to call myself Father Russo any longer, and that rosary’s scent will fade. The question is: Was it the right move? Did I do the right thing? Will she make the same choice?

She climbs up my body, kissing me, fevered and heavy, making me taste myself on her tongue. I groan and flip her over, my cock hard for her again as she flicks her tongue against mine in a drunken dance. She’s high on this, high on me.

The knowledge has me stiff all over again.

Every feat is a milestone pale compared to anything I experience with Sloane beside me.

She breaks our kiss, flipping beneath me onto her stomach, waggling her ass back and forth.

“Go ahead, Father. Sink inside me. Show me how deep you can go,” she teases, looking at me with a sidelong, heady glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, you little tease, you,” I slap her ass, and she moans as if she likes it.

She loves this, this back-and-forth between priest and parishioner, our favorite game. If I am excommunicated from the church, I have to wonder if she’ll remain.

Thoughts cease, and white-noise sounds in my brain as she reaches back and grabs my wrist, tugging me forward. My cock brushes her warm entrance, feeling just how wet she is for me.

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