Page 36 of Priest (Priest 1)
“I want to see you again,” I said in a low voice. There was no mistaking my meaning and she shifted, rubbing her thighs together.
“Is that…I mean, should we…”
“I don’t think I care anymore,” I said.
“Neither do I,” she whispered.
“Tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “I have to go to Kansas City for some club stuff—we’re switching over to new accounting software. But I’ll be back Thursday night.”
I wanted to groan out loud, but I managed to stop myself. “That’s three days from now,” I said.
She put her fingers on the latch to her back gate. “Come inside,” she said. “Let’s hang out tonight.”
“It’s late,” I said. “And I want plenty of time for what I have in mind.”
She exhaled slowly and her red lips parted, showing me those two front teeth, the tiniest glimpse of tongue.
I looked around to make sure we were truly alone, and then I grabbed her hand, opened the latch and tugged her inside the garden. I pulled her under the overgrown trellis, and then I spun her around so that her ass was pressed against me—pressed against my erection. I put one hand over her mouth and then unfastened her jeans with the other.
“Three days is a long time from now,” I said in her ear. “I just want to make sure that you’re taken care of until then.”
And then I slid my fingers down her stomach, slipping under her silk panties. She moaned against my hand.
“Shhh,” I said. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.”
She whimpered in response.
God, I loved her pussy. I’d never felt anything softer than the skin between her legs—and fuck she was wet. So wet that I really could pull these jeans down and take what I wanted, right here, right no
w. But no. She deserved better than that.
Not that I wouldn’t fantasize about it as I got her off.
I started in on her clit in earnest now, circling it hard and fast, loving the way she bucked against my hand. I knew it was more pressure and speed than was comfortable, but I also knew that she would like it that way, savor that tiny, tiny bite of pain with her pleasure.
“I could do this all day, little lamb,” I told her. “I love reaching down the front of your jeans, playing with your cunt, making you come. Do you like it?”
She nodded, her breathing jagged against my hand. She was getting close.
“Thursday night,” I said, and I almost felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, listening to myself say these words. But I was beyond caring, or more accurately, beyond the place where the rules I cared about mattered. “I want to be with you. I want to fuck you. But only if it’s what you want.”
She nodded again, eagerly, desperately.
“I can’t wait,” and my voice was hoarse now. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Feel me. Feel how hard I am just thinking about it.” I ground my cock into her ass, and she shuddered against me, my words and my hard dick pushing her over the edge. She made a tiny cry that was muffled by my hand, quaked under my touch for a long minute, and finally came down, sagging against me.
I kept my hand in her panties for a minute or two longer, loving the way it looked, loving the way it felt, and then I reluctantly withdrew, zipping and buttoning her back up. I sucked on my fingers as she turned to face me, eyes bright and cheeks clearly flushed even in the dark.
“Go to bed, Poppy,” I said when I could see that she would protest me leaving. “I’ll see you Thursday night.”
It hit me like a ton of obvious, kiss-sized bricks as I recited Mass the next morning: I was falling in love with Poppy Danforth.
I wasn’t just desperate to fuck her. I wasn’t just happy to help her find faith. I was well and truly on my way to being in love with her.
After a month.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
