Page 92 of Sinner (Priest 2)
Fuck, fuck, why did I ever make such a foolish declaration? Because now it’s all I want, all I ever want, and it feels like if I can’t do this, if I can’t have this one thing, I’ll die. I’ll simply die.
“It feels so dirty,” she whispers. “You being back there.”
“You like it, baby? You like me back there?”
“Fuck—yes.”
“Filthy girl,” I growl, banding an arm around her waist and raising her up to near-standing, keeping her upright as I thrust with an arm against her chest and a hand around her throat. My other hand continues to rub her pussy, tease fingers at her sopping wet slit. “You’re wet all over my hand. You get so wet for me, don’t you? So wet to have my cock in your ass?”
My words and my hand have her squirming and tightening and her hands flying backwards to grab at my shoulders. And then, with me buried deep inside her, stretching her virgin asshole, she climaxes with a slow, rolling cry, low and earthy and long. My name comes out, so does God’s, but mostly it’s that long cry, a cry that could be a hymn unto itself. A cry I memorize like a prayer.
She is everything around me, not just the slick massage squeezing my cock, but the nubile press of skin and warmth in front of me, the rose scent in my nose, the sweet taste of her cunt still on my tongue. Her laughter still in the air, the evidence of her passion and devotion all around us. Her clever words and her contradictions and her bravery and her vulnerability and her determination—
The jagged lurch just behind my cock almost warns me too late, and I jerk myself outside of her right as I start ejaculating. Cum goes everywhere, thick ropes of it, and like the animal I am, I’m pressing her cheeks around my spurting cock and fucking the cum-covered cleft until the climax finally wrings itself out and my body relaxes by degrees.
We are sticky and slick with oil and cum, Zenny laughing weakly as she comes to standing and wipes a hand across her sweaty face. I know I look ridiculous completely naked, with a still-wet cock and moonstruck expression on my face, but none of that is enough to stop the stupid words from coming out. I’m just so happy and I feel so good, and she’s smiling and stretching like a cat, and I love her I love her I love her.
“I love you,” I say.
And the world comes to a crashing halt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zenny turns to me, her face frozen.
“What did you say?” she whispers.
I’m reaching for a handful of paper towels to wipe off the oil and…other things. “I said I love you. Now hold still for me, please.”
She bats my hand away before I can start trying to clean her. Her smile is gone, her eyes are wide, and her entire body is tensed—a frightened deer, ready to flee.
“You…love me?” She says it like I just confessed to fucking microwaved melons in my spare time; her words are filled with horror and near-revulsion.
“Zenny.” But before I can think of anything else to say, before I can even get a handle on the blistering, wailing hole in my chest—the hole that she made—she keeps going.
“You said, when we started this, you said we wouldn’t fall in love!”
“Let me clean you up first.”
She backs away from me. “You said,” she accuses.
I sigh and settle for extending the paper towels to her. She takes them warily. “I never said that,” I tell her. “You said that I hadn’t brought it up. And then I said I didn’t think it would be a problem for you.”
Something wounded flashes in her eyes, bounds away faster than I can trace it to its source. “And do you want it to be a problem for me?”
This feels like a trick question. One I should be old and wise enough to answer, and yet I can’t answer it safely, because I’m not wise. Everything with Zenny has been new from the start, and this is the newest thing of all. Loving her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask carefully.
She scrubs at her body without meeting my eyes. “You know what it means.”
She’s not baiting me, I know she’s not, and yet I can’t help but feel hurt. Hurt in the kind of way where you’ve made yourself vulnerable and someone else has made you feel foolish for it. And extra hurt because I knew better, I knew better, I knew I shouldn’t have forced her to hear this thing that only makes her life harder. And on top of it all, I know it’s stupid to have done this and then to pull the I’m a sad boy routine on her.
And then I see that crushed look on her face again and her trembling chin and she’s so young. So, so young.
“I don’t want you to have any problems, not a single one, not even me. When I told you I wanted to be your dragon outside of the castle, I didn’t mean it like…like I’m the only one who gets to keep you hostage. I meant it like I wish I could burn everything bad away in your life so you can do whatever you want.”
She looks down at the used paper towels in her hands, and I hate how cheap this moment feels, how tawdry. “Honest guy thing, Sean. Do you want me to love you back?”
