Page 68 of Priest (Priest 1)
“I paid you to suck,” I hissed. “You can either suck me on your own or I can make you do it. So unless you want that, you better open that pretty little mouth and do your fucking job.”
She was covered in goose bumps, and I didn’t miss the way she tried to rub her thighs together. Impatiently, I stuck a finger between her lips and forced them apart.
“Put me in your mouth,” I warned, “or there will be hell to pay.”
It didn’t take an astute observer to notice the extra flare of interest in her eyes at that idea; she wanted there to be hell to pay, but I also think she wanted to suck me, because she finally perched her candy apple lips at my tip, and—meeting my eyes as she did so—slid her mouth down and over me, her tongue flat and scorching against my shaft.
Keeping my hand tight on the leash, I leaned back to watch the show, watch her breasts move as she worked me, watch those hazel eyes gaze up at me with a look that would get me hard in the shower for years to come. And those lips like a gorgeous red halo around my dick…it was the only halo I ever wanted again, a circle of wicked wants and devilish delights.
Up and down she went, sometimes fluttering her tongue, sometimes running it in a hot, wide line down my shaft. I thrust up to meet her, hitting the back of her throat and—losing all semblance of patience—grabbed the back of her head to keep her from pulling away. I held her head with both hands and pumped that way for several long seconds, fucking her throat like I fucked her pussy—hard and without apology, and she deserved it for being such a brazen, shameless tease.
“You like that?” I asked. She was breathing carefully through her nose, and she couldn’t speak, so I talked for her. “I know you do. You like it when a paying customer treats you roughly. It makes you wet to be treated like the slut you are, doesn’t it?”
She made a noise that could of have a yes or a no or simply a moan of pure pleasure. Whatever it was, it made my stomach clench and my hands dig into her scalp and my balls tighten with the need to release. But I didn’t want to come in her mouth.
“Off,” I ordered, pulling on the leash. She obeyed, coming off my dick with watery, smudged eyes and one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on her face.
I used the leash to bring her face to mine as I leaned toward her. “How much to fuck?”
Her smile faded into a darker expression, an expression that promised me everything I wanted. “We—we aren’t supposed to do that,” she said faintly.
“I don’t care,” I growled. “I want to fuck you. How much?”
“The rest of what you have,” she said, with a defiant arch of her eyebrow, and I silently commended her for her dedication to our game. I took out my wallet and the remaining cash—about $700 (fuck, Poppy had a lot of money)—and then tossed the bills in the air. They floated slowly down to the floor.
“Pick them up with your mouth.”
“No.”
“No?” I tugged on the leash, just enough that she remembered it was there. “I want to get what I paid for. Now. Pick. Them. Up.”
I saw the moment she gave in by the set of her shoulders, but as she started to bend down to reach for the bill closest to her, I put my shoe on the money. “Panties off first.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, and I don’t know what my face looked like, but whatever expression was there must have convinced her that she didn’t want to test me. She stood up, hooked her thumbs at the sides of her panties and slipped them down, one gold heel coming off the floor and then the other as she stepped out of them.
Then she bent over and began collecting the money.
I kept a loose grip on the leash as she did, spooling it out so she’d have plenty of slack, licking my lips at the swollen perfection exposed between her legs. When we got home, I wanted to worship her with my mouth, I w
anted her coming on my tongue again and again. She deserved it, my little lamb, for going to such lengths for me, creating this little game where I could take and take from her. Yes, after this, I was going to reward her.
But as for right now…
I got on the floor behind her, also on my knees, and because the music was so loud, I don’t think she heard. She was bent completely over, her face to the floor, her ass high in the air, and I took my dick and shoved into her with one rough thrust, all the way in, slapping her hard on one ass cheek as I did.
She squealed—a happy noise—and that was enough to keep my conscience at bay as I fucked her harder than was purely gentlemanly, not fast necessarily, just hard and deep, the kind of deep that made her toes curl and my balls swing against her clit.
And then the snake slithered again, that angry, bitter snake, as I remembered that I was not the first man to do this to Poppy here, that she’d been fucked before like this, in this very place, and then that anger was itching at my palms and coiling in my pelvis.
I wanted to punish her. I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me with making me care so much, but instead of hurting her, I pulled out and stood up, my cock wet and as hard as fucking steel, throbbing with the need to screw the pussy still raised up in offering to me.
I didn’t want to be Herod. Not really.
I sat down on the chair. “Come here.” I jerked my head towards my cock so that she knew what I wanted, and she didn’t hesitate to climb up my lap and then impale herself on me, sinking down with her tight, hot cunt, her tits right in my face.
And here, now that I could see her face, now that I couldn’t be brutal, I confessed. “I can’t, like that. It makes me want to…”
But I couldn’t get the words out. They were too awful. Instead, I buried my face in her breasts, smelling the lavender smell of her, the clean fabric of her bra.
