Page 74 of Heathens
I cry out, my knees getting so weak that I have to steady myself on his shoulders. And I watch him—this man, this holy man—on his knees, whispering to God,thankinghis creator.Worshipingme. I buck my hips as his tongue slides along my slit, firm and hard. One hand cups my ass, the other slides two fingers inside me without warning as his tongue softens, mastering my body in mere seconds.
It’s as if he’s getting more pleasure out of touching me than I am, if that’s possible. Every time I move, he moans. No one—not a single person—has ever touched me like this before.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, arching my back and throwing my head behind me as he growls and thrusts his fingers into me harder. I lose myself on his hand, noticing that his shirt is still buttoned at his wrist. For some depraved reason, that enhances everything. He’s still fully dressed—down to his shoes. And I’m practically bare before him. “Salem,” I groan, bucking my hips again as pleasure sparks through me at his touch.
“Yes,” he rasps, pulling away and studying me with dark eyes. “Say my name when you come.” The window slowly starts to lighten, and soon, we’re barreling through the country, my ass against the window, and—now that I can see clearly—Salem’s lips wet with my arousal. “Spread your legs, Lily.”
The way he says my name sends shockwaves through my body. Every time he says it, it sounds sanctified—like a hymn on his lips, as if he were reciting the Lord’s Prayer. My name is revered by him, my body glorified.
He nudges my knees apart roughly with his hand and continues his tongue and finger work, curling his fingers and pulling me so far into his mouth that I’m practically on top of him. Now that I can see him—now that I can see the dampness on his clerical sleeve, the way he so easily got to his knees, the way he’s working my body like a practiced violinist...
It sets me off.
I quake on top of him, my knees buckling as my climax roars through me. Struggling to breathe, struggling to stay upright... the firestorm unleashes from inside of me, spiraling along my lower spine and down to my toes.
“Salem,“ I moan, throwing my head back even further.
“Look at me,” he orders, and just that eye contact alone as his fingers work me set me off again.
Crying out, I shake and shudder, finding my second release as he watches me with savage intensity, deep in concentration as his thumb circles my clit. My legs become utterly useless as he slows, and I sag against the window, trying my best to hold myself up. He stands quickly, taking a step back and giving me a satisfied, victorious smile.
“Twice?” His lips quirk to the side.
“Only you,” I mumble, unable to fully speak yet.
He must ascertain as much, because he takes my hand and leads me to the bed. “Good.” And then, he slowly unbuckles his pants and pulls his belt out of the loopholes. “Are you ready, Lilith Damewood?” he speaks, his voice an undertone.
“For what?” I ask, as he nudges me onto my back and throws his belt onto the floor. My eyes trail down his tucked-in shirt, and I watch as his hands unzip his trousers, deftly pushing his underwear to the side and freeing his cock.Dear God.I peel my underwear off, and his eyes blaze as he grips himself and begins stroking. I swallow.
“For my liberation. And... for our salvation.”
Untitled
I Will Fear No Evil, for You Are with Me
Salem
Present
She looks at me like I am her deity, her God—the only thing saving her from wickedness. Like I am the only thing she wants to worship for the rest of her mortal days.
The late morning light filters in through the window, casting a creamy, gauzy film around the room. The curves and contours of Lily’s naked body are riddled in light and shadow—hidden momentarily by the lingering, lazy cigarette smoke, only to reappear in perfect view. As my eyes trace her skin, goosebumps erupt across her chest, her arms, her legs.Perfect.She is perfect. Why had I spent so many years worshiping God when I should’ve been worshiping the way the light played across her bare hips? I say a silent prayer before running my fingers down those furtive, cascading shadows.
“Please,” she begs as I crawl and hover over her. She reaches out for me, but I gently brush her hand away.
“Forgive me if this is over quickly,“ I murmur, nipping her ear with my teeth. “It's been a few years since I've been inside of a woman.“ Her breathing increases and a flush breaks out on her chest. I want to devour every shudder, ever ragged breath coming out of her perfect lips.
She moans in response, reaching up and cupping her breasts. “Please,” she repeats, quivering.
As I hover over her, inches from being inside of her, I stare at the way her hair is splayed out around her head—the way she touches herself, like she’s confident and unsure all at once. And I realize, with so much clarity that it almost knocks me over, that she is sin incarnate. Everything about her—all seven, unforgivable sins—have been wrapped up into one person and presented to me on a platter.
And I fucking love it.
I want her—over, and over, and over again. I can feel my need pulsating against her, begging to take her. I want to watch her as I draw more physical pleasure out of her.
I need her in my veins, and I need to be inside of her.
Slowly easing myself in, she gasps as she takes me, throwing her head back. I go slowly at first, savoring the sensation of her wrapped tightly around my cock.
