Page 18 of Preacher Man
When his lips left mine and traveled down the curve of my jaw, I made a sound—half gasp, half whimper—that I would’ve rebuked from the pulpit.
“Fuck,” I hissed, as he kissed the side of my throat, warm breath fanning over my skin.“Jake…”
He didn’t stop.His tongue flicked out, tasting my skin, dragging along the tender line of my neck like he was branding me with his heat.
“You smell like guilt and desperation,” he murmured into my skin.“It’s driving me fucking insane.”
My knees buckled.Not metaphorically.They literally gave out for a second, and I had to grab his shoulders to keep from slumping to the damn floor.
“You okay, Preacher Man?”he said, pulling back just enough to smirk at me.
“No,” I breathed.“God help me, no.”
His grin turned feral.He reached down, took my hand, my trembling, calloused, traitorous hand, and laced his fingers through mine.
“Then come with me,” he said.“I want to show you how good sin can feel.”
He led me through the house, step by slow, electrified step, like we were crossing into sacred ground.Except nothing about this felt sacred.It felt primal.Dangerous.Soaked in heat.
“You ever been fucked properly, Ethan?”Jake asked as we moved down the hallway, his voice low and dirty.“Not that clumsy sneaking-around shit you did with that married deacon.I mean slow.Deep.Honest-to-God moaning-into-the-pillow kind of fucking.”
My breath caught.
“I bet no one’s ever had you on your knees and made you beg.”He glanced back at me, eyes gleaming with lust.“But I will.I’m gonna get you so worked up, you’ll be praying for my cock like it’s the Holy Spirit.”
Oh.My.God.
My cock pulsed, leaking, aching, absolutely helpless.I should’ve turned back.I should’ve said no.But all I could do was follow him, like a lamb, to the slaughter.
He pushed open the bedroom door.
Dark sheets.Big bed.Dim light spilling through the slats of the blinds.
Jake turned to face me, framed in that soft golden light like temptation itself.His shirt clung to his chest, and his fingers were already at the hem, lifting it slowly—teasingly—up, revealing taut abs and a trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“Take off your shirt, Ethan,” he said, voice rough.“I want to see you.All of you.”
I stepped forward.My fingers reached for the buttons on my collar—out of habit, maybe—but then stopped.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
This was real.This was happening.
And I… I couldn’t.
I took a shaky breath.
“Jake—wait.”
He froze, mid-motion.His eyes snapped to mine.
“I… I can’t,” I said, voice raw.“I’m not that man anymore, and I promised myself I wouldn’t sin again.”
The air thickened between us.I was trembling, caught between salvation and desire, heaven and the sin standing half-naked in front of me.
Jake stepped closer again, but slower this time.No seduction.No swagger.Just… intense.
“Tell me,” he said, “what are you really afraid of?”
