Page 93 of West Bound
She lifts her hand from the rail to touch me, and I snatch her wrist, halting her and shaking my head as I place her palm back on the wood. I want full control of this—some measure of revenge for the way she used me so fucking dirty out in the field. Even if I did love every second of it.
I won’t take her freedom from her, stealing it away like her ex would have. I want her submission, freely given and greedily fucking taken. I want her on her knees for me, staring up at me like she is right now. Reminding her I’m the one who's given her salvation. That I’m the one who will do anything and everything she needs. She might be reciting devotionals, but I’m the devoted one, drowning in my obsession with her.
It doesn’t take long before I feel the first tingle of awareness, the slow build of my orgasm against her tongue. It’s too soon. I’m overstimulated from hunting her down and cornering her in her little sanctuary. Taken too close to the edge by watching her eyes stare up into mine with unfiltered desire as she sucks my cock like she’s been dedicating her life to the task for years behind the convent walls.
I pull back, shallowing the thrusts of my hips into her pretty little mouth. Making her work for every lick and swirl of her tongue around my tip. Her fingers curl around the rail and grip it as she works herself up in the process, the kaleidoscope of light from the stained glass falling over her breasts and making her look like a work of art. One I want to add my mark to. But not yet.
“Stop,” I demand as I pull my dick back from her lips. She whimpers at the loss, and it almost tempts me to finish off right here and now on her tongue. My eyes land heavy on her hard nipples, beading up from the cool air that wafts through the stone chapel.
“Please,” she begs.
“Please what?”
“I need something. Anything. It’s torture.” Her eyes are wide and imploring as she stares up at me.
“Come here.” I tuck myself back in before I take her hand and bring her to the benches, placing her in front of me as I sit down. “Hands on the rail again,” I instruct.
She looks back over her shoulder doubtfully, but she follows my lead, gripping the wooden rail. I use my boot to kick her feet wide and slide myself to the edge of the bench.
“Bend over.” My demand resonates against the rows of wood pews.
She eases over slowly, and I lift her skirt, resting it on her lower back.
“Lower.” I urge her down farther and farther until her ass and pussy are on full display, so wet and swollen for me, I can hardly stand it. My cock strains against my pants as I palm her cheeks, rubbing small circles over them and then squeezing a handful.
“So fucking beautiful and wet for me. I think you like it best when you feel like it’s wrong, sweetheart.”
“Please, Levi.” She whispers my name like I’m her last line of defense against torture.
So I put her out of her misery, taking a long, slow lick up her core, tonguing her cunt, and using the pads of my fingers to rub circles around her clit. She lets out a soft moan of approval and spreads wider for me. I wrap my hands around her thighs, laving my tongue over her, and following her cues until I have her so worked up that she rocks back against my face with each touch of my tongue.
I let out a dark chuckle, gently nipping the inside of her thigh, expecting her to squeak and curse my name.
“Fuck, do that again,” she mutters.
“This?” I nip the inside of her other thigh, letting my teeth barely scrape her, while I tighten the circle around her clit with the pads of my fingers.
“Oh god, that feels good. So good.” She climbs to her tiptoes and rocks back against the next pass of my tongue. I move lower then, nipping the back of her thigh, just under her cheek. Another soft pleading curse follows.
“You like a little pain?”
“A little. It makes it easier to stay on the edge, and the longer on the edge the harder I come,” she confesses.
“Good.” I run my tongue over her again and then squeeze one of her cheeks. I’ll be keeping that bit of knowledge in the arsenal I’ve built up for her benefit.
I let my fingers wander, dipping them inside her and softly working over her sweet little cunt until she drips. Then I brush the pad of my thumb over her second, tighter entrance, letting it glisten in the low light.
“Have you ever let someone take you here?”
“No.” She shakes her head and glances back at me. “Never wanted to.”
“Would you let me?” I meet her eyes, and she nods.
“If you were gentle, I’d try for you,” she answers quietly. “Is that my punishment?”
“Fuck no. I’d make that a reward. For both of us.” My dick and my heart swell at the idea of having something of her for myself. Something she’d always remember as being mine.
She smiles back at me, one so soft and sweet that it erodes whatever was left of my need for revenge. Now I just want her sated. Staring up at me in appreciation like I’ve given her all the things no other man can.
