Page 118 of Savior

I can’t help but laugh at her absurdity.

But then she swirls her fist around the head of me, and I’m straightening, leaning back against the shower wall and watching as she works me over with two hands, my cock hard as steel as she makes her hands like a tight canal and fucks me with them.

She drops to her knees before me, looking upward at me with water dripping off her lashes. “Tell me, Father Russo. Do you like how I make you come?”

Oh! fucking hell.

I nod. I can barely even remember my name as I look down at her. Her thoroughly kissed lips are pouty, her honey-colored eyes playful and wanton. Her hair is a beautiful brown with streaks of sun-kissed blonde, and I know somewhere her scalp is red from the last time I sunk my hands into her hair and used it as leverage to fuck her dirty ass mouth.

“I said to tell me,” she muses, a rueful smirk lifting her lips upward.

“I love how you make me come. Every single way you make me come,” I breathe.

It never ceases to amaze me how fast she gets me to the edge or how long she toys with me when I’m there.

There might be an age gap between us, but she’s leading me to damnation, teaching me things I never knew about myself. Like how much I like to watch cum drip down her face after she’s driven me over the edge.

“I love watching you come. How you look at me like I’m the only woman alive who you’ll let touch you makes me feel so fucking beautiful.”

Her admission nearly makes me push her away to heft her off the floor and hug her.

“You are beautiful, Sloane. Every bit of you is alluring. And you are the only one I’ll ever let touch me. I’m yours. Only yours.” I breathe through a clenched jaw as my body grows rigid for her.

She smiles up at me, opening her mouth wide and teasing me with those fucking eyes.

“Show me.”

My mouth drops open, knees bending, pelvis arching forward as I come for her. Each time feels like the first time. I erupt in impure shouts of lascivious pleasure, my cum marking her tongue, cheeks, nose, and forehead as I lose control of the thrusts I make inside her hands.

She doesn’t stop, though. She keeps stroking until I’m begging for her to.

Too sensitive.

Too much.

She stands, making a show of cleaning my cum off her face under the water.

“You know, I heard priests were filthy, but I had no idea.”

I gasp, shaking my head as I wrap around her and pull her to me, digging my fingers into her sides to tickle her until she relents.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! God, stop!” she begs.

I kiss her hair and wash her face, thinking about never wanting this to end.

But it will. All things end.

After we shower and return to bed, we both fall asleep, holding onto one another like it’ll keep the demons away. But when I wake, my fear is realized.

Sloane was gone from the bed and missing from the cabin.

When I rush outside to tell someone, men are running every which way with guns drawn, and shouts fill the area.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

SLOANE

One hour earlier

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