Page 19 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
Kensley could still walk away, straight into the bedroom and shut the door. End this torturous dance, let Bishop off the hook, make this whole protection detail just a job with no emotionalattachment. But he didn’t want to. For the first time in half his life, he was free. Free to do whatever the hell he wanted, vows be damned, and right now?
Right now, all he wanted in the world was for Bishop to strip him naked and have his way with Kensley’s body. He’d submit and love every second of it, because he’d chosen it. “I don’t want to stop,” Kensley whispered. He ran a single finger down the line of Bishop’s jaw. “Please.”
Kensley didn’t see Bishop move, barely heard the scrape of his chair and the snarl of a beast unleashed, and then his arms were immobile by his sides, both hands behind his back and secured in one of Bishop’s. Bishop’s other hand grabbed his jaw and held him still, dark eyes glimmering with desire so deep, so heady that Kensley moaned. Bishop mashed their groins together, and Kensley moaned a second time, enthralled by the thick erection pressing into his own. His hole clenched, and he felt the first trickle of wetness.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Kens?” Bishop’s voice rumbled into Kensley’s sternum, deep and almost scary. “For me to bend you over this table and shove my cock up your wet, dripping ass? To take your virginity in a dirty old cabin in the middle of nowhere? For the hitman to fuck his priest?”
“Fuck, yeeeees.” Kensley struggled against Bishop’s hold, but Bishop’s grip was ironclad, giving him no room to do more than pant and thrust harder against Bishop’s dick. “I need it, please. I’ve wanted it for so long. Wantedyou, Bishop.”
Bishop’s hand slid from his jaw to his shoulder, then down to his hip. Further around to press hard against his crease. Kensley gasped and humped back, wanting that hand touching bare skin. Needing pressure. Bishop rubbed over the thin cotton, pressing deeper. “You’re wet for me, omega. Reading about it in a textbook is one thing, but damn.”
“Please.” Tired of begging, tired of Bishop second-guessing him, Kensley’s oft-hidden defiant side came out, and he did the only thing that made sense: he bit the side of Bishop’s neck. Not a hard bite, but more than a nip, and it startled Bishop into releasing his hands. Kensley immediately dragged his fingers through Bishop’s thick hair, then curled them near the nape of his neck, holding Bishop’s head still. Their mouths mere inches apart, hot breaths mingling the scents of coffee and desire.
Bishop grabbed his hips and held tight, head angled so Kensley couldn’t see his eyes. All he saw were Bishop’s parted lips, then the slip of tongue that wetted them. “I’m going to hell for this,” Bishop whispered.
“I’d rather follow you to hell than keep living in this purgatory.”
“Fuck.”
Kensley had never been kissed before. Not a real, passionate kiss on the mouth; the kind that came from a lover whose only desire was to take him apart, one piece at a time. He’d read about it, squirreling away romance novels secretly traded among the priests, reading about things they’d only imagined. Experiencing fictional desires while barred from exploring real ones. Kensley hadn’t known what to expect from an actual kiss, beyond flowery descriptions in worn, stained pages.
Nothing he’d read prepared Kensley for the way Bishop owned his mouth. Lips and tongue and teeth and panting breaths became his entire world. Bishop’s unique taste filled his senses, blocking out everything except the need for more. Now. All at once. Nothing existed beyond the kiss and the way it lit Kensley’s body from the inside out. His dick throbbed and his hole contracted, soaking his underwear with proof of his desire. He melted under the power of it all, surrendering to the force of the kiss, and the world ceased to exist until the moment his bare ass hit cotton sheets.
Kensley didn’t know or care where his underclothes had gone. All he knew was the hard, thick body writhing above him, grinding him into the mattress, kissing him into the next century. He was mouth and dick and hands, and a hot, leaking ass that needed something to fill it more than he needed oxygen. He would finally have something bigger inside him than his own finger, and nothing would stop him.
He yanked at Bishop’s jeans, desperate to see him, to feel his bare skin against Kensley’s, for some part of Bishop’s body to touch his slick hole. “Get your fucking clothes off,” Kensley snapped, surprising himself with the sharp order.
Bishop nipped his chin, his smile both tender and dangerous, and climbed off the bed to strip, peeling back layers of clothes and revealing swaths of flesh. Some tanned and smooth, some pale and waxy, and all of it beautiful. His thick erection hung low, and Kensley’s mouth watered for a taste. He didn’t think; he crawled to the edge of the bed and licked the head. Bishop groaned, both hands reaching for and stopping just above Kensley’s shoulders.
Needing Bishop undone, Kensley wrapped his lips about the crown of his cock and sucked, poking his tongue into the slit, savoring the sharp flavor of Bishop’s flesh and precome. Loving the weight of the satin flesh, the soft skin over rippling heat. He wanted more but his untested gag reflex refused to let him worship Bishop the way he craved.
One day.
Bishop’s restraint broke, and he tangled both hands in Kensley’s hair, squeezing hard, waking Kensley’s scalp with the sting. It wasn’t painful. The possessiveness, the need to hold and claim, to use his willing mouth, was everything Kensley had imagined. Maybe he couldn’t give Bishop his throat today, but Bishop could have every other part of his body.
“Fuck, Kens.” One of Bishop’s hand released his hair and slid down his neck. Along the ridges of his spine to the small of his back. To the very top of his crack.
Kensley made an agreeable noise and sucked harder, needing this before he internally combusted. Bishop flattened his hand and slid it farther back, his middle finger dragging down his crease until it rested over his hole. Kensley arched his spine, desperate for that wicked finger to penetrate him. To feel how wet Kensley was, how much he desired this.
Bishop’s finger slid inside his loose hole, and Kensley keened around his mouthful of cock. Humped backward, wanting more than a single finger, wanting his whole damned hand if that’s what Bishop chose to give him. Instead, Bishop played, twisting his finger, stretching his rim, shallowly fucking him with it. Kensley could probably come like this, but he needed Bishop to fuck him with his cock. To take what he so enthusiastically offered.
He released Bishop’s erection and pressed his face into Bishop’s pubes, taking a moment to breathe and enjoy the new, intense experience of someone else playing with his hole for the first time. An intensity that doubled when Bishop added a second finger and fucked him harder with them. It created the dirtiest sound as skin and wetness combined, the perfect soundtrack for this moment.
“Please, Bishop, fuck me,” Kensley whined.
“Am fucking you, baby. Your hole is so hot and ready for me.” The hand in his hair loosened. “But your brother will skin me alive if I knock you up.”
“You won’t. My cycle ended two days ago.”
“Fuck, Kens.” That must have been the last tenuous thread keeping Bishop’s restraint in check, and it snapped. He had Kensley flat on his back, both legs shoved up high and out of the way, exposing Kensley’s cock, balls and hole to him. Bishopstudied his crotch with an almost feral expression, a predator admiring its prey before pouncing. “Are you?—?”
Kensley punched him hard in the sternum. “If you ask me if I want this one more time, I’m going to hit you with a piece of furniture.”
Bishop laughed. “There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows his own mind.”
“Good, because this man needs you to fuck him already.”
With a sharp growl that sent bolts of lust down Kensley’s spine, Bishop rested Kensley’s right leg on his shoulder, freeing his hand to steady his cock. A cock that finally pressed against Kensley’s hole. Kensley tried to bear down, to make this happen faster, but Bishop just sat there, staring where their bodies joined. Kensley reached between them and wrapped his hand around Bishop’s. Met Bishop’s simmering gaze. They held eye contact while they both guided Bishop’s cock inside.
