Page 108 of Sinner (Priest 2)
This does make her pull away, just enough to straighten up and look at me, but the act of straightening brings her cunt squarely against my erection and her eyes flare with understanding. She swallows at the same time, warmth coming to her face.
“Oh,” she says. She’s been infected with that word too.
“Yes, oh,” I tease, trying to make light of it, make light of a very sad and aching cock. A sad and aching heart. “It would be better if you moved, darling.”
She doesn’t move. Instead she sits on my lap, regarding me, her breathing moving fast and hard and pushing her perfect tits against her Jesus wedding dress.
My thighs are actually shaking with restraint now, my stomach is clenched with it. It is taking every shred of decency inside me not to reach under her skirt and pull myself free, not to find her slit and pierce her with my fingers and then with my cock. Not to piston into her with her wedding dress billowing around us all while I trap her to my chest and dig my teeth into her neck. I can actually feel my lust like a physical thing, a fire or a pool of molten metal creeping up my legs to my belly.
“Baby,” I rasp. My hands are shaking as I put them to her waist to gently ease her off. “It’s—you’re—” I can’t make words.
“I’m what?” she whispers.
“I’ll always want to hold you, but I’m thinking about more than just holding you right now, which I know you don’t want.”
She looks at me with an expression torn between curiosity and responsibility. Air quavers in and out of her lungs as she asks, “What if I do want it?”
My head falls back against the wall. “Zenny,” I beg in a hoarse voice.
“Maybe…we could…just one last time?”
I have no response to this. None. Because if she’s asking if I want to fuck her one last time before she gives her life to God, then of course the answer is yes. Yes, and I’ll plunge inside of her this very second.
But I don’t know that it’s a good idea. And I don’t know that I won’t go to hell for it.
“It wouldn’t be smart,” I say, sliding my hands under her skirt and finding her thighs.
“No,” she agrees.
“And it would be crazy, here in this room, so close to the chapel.” I stand up, taking her with me.
“Yes,” she says, her legs wrapping around my waist and her arms sliding around my neck. “Crazy.”
I walk over to the door to the side room and close and lock it. I don’t know what I’m feeling—or I do, but it’s too much of everything to keep hold of at once. I should stop this, it’s going to hurt us both even more, I should be the older one and the wiser one and put her down.
I don’t want to put her down.
I don’t want to stop.
If this is my last taste of her, I’ll take it, weeping all the while.
“Does this little nun need to be fucked?” I growl into her ear as I pin her against the wall. “Is that pretty pussy feeling empty already?”
Her head rolls back as I nip softly at her neck—careful not to leave marks she’d have to explain away later—but hard enough to make her gasp and shudder. Under the skirt of her wedding dress, my hand finds the crotch of her panties and moves it aside, plunging two fingers into her split. She’s wet, so fucking wet, and so fucking soft, and suddenly I have to eat her, I have to have her on my tongue.
I let her legs slide away from my hips and I set her on the floor. Her whimper of dismay when my fingers leave her cunt is replaced by a jagged inhale as I reach for the hem of her skirt. With my other hand, I take her wrist and press her palm to her mouth, giving her a stern look. “Quiet, darling. You don’t want everyone to know that you’re in here getting fucked in your pretty dress, do you?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide, hand clapped tight over her mouth.
Which is a good thing, because the moment I get to my knees in front of her, a low belly moan of anticipation comes from around her hand. A moan I feel all the way to the tip of my cock.
My tongue runs along the rim of my lower lip as I push up the skirt of her dress and ease off her plain white panties. I need to taste. Need to lick. Need to suck.
Then she’s bared to me, that precious part of her. The neat nest of dark curls, the ripe bud of her clit peeping out from under the vulnerable hood. And when I open her up to me with my thumbs, I see the soft petals I love so much unfurling to reveal her slick, tight secrets.
“You weren’t feeling good, were you?” I murmur, rubbing thoughtfully at her clit. “Put your leg over my shoulder, sweetheart. Sean’s going to make you feel all better now.”
A noise comes out from under her palm—a noise that sounds a lot like oh God oh God—but she slides her leg over my shoulder anyway, allowing me access to the heart of her. I press my nose into her curls and breathe in deep, trying to memorize the sour-sweet-earth of her scent. I try to memorize everything—that first blooming taste of her on my tongue, her hips tilting and searching for my mouth, the jerk and quiver of her breathing as I begin eating her in earnest.
