Page 48 of Sinner (Priest 2)
“I want my fill of you.”
A long shuddering exhale. “I think I want my fill of you too.”
I give her a wicked grin. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
She smiles back, a smile that flickers into an adorable look of concentration as my finger probes her folds and slowly teases at the wet, soft border of her entrance. And then tenderly, carefully, I push in to the first knuckle, watching her face the entire time. She’s so goddamn tight, so goddamn small, that even with all her wet coating me, the tip of my finger still feels like a huge invasion.
I have to swallow when I think about how she’ll fit around my cock. She’ll stretch around me, grip me, fit me tighter than a glove.
Jesus Christ. I’m about to blow inside my pants again.
“This is how I’ll get you ready to take my body,” I explain in a kind voice, trying to focus on what we’re doing and THE PLAN, SEAN, THE FUCKING PLAN, which involves us going to bed together in a certain kind of way and does not involve me shoving my hand down my slacks and tugging on myself.
At least not at the moment.
I slide in to the second knuckle and watch her furrow her brow, as if she can’t decide if it hurts or it feels good. “I’ll stroke you from the inside, tickle you there and play with you, until you open up like a flower,” I continue. “Until you feel how empty you are. Until it hurts more to have me on the outside of you than on the inside.” I crook my finger up to press against that special spot on her front wall—I do it gently, gently, gently—and the light glints off her nose ring as she tosses her head back and forth.
“Sean,” she says, and there’s the first sparkle of sweat on her forehead and chest. “That feels…I…”
“Like you have to pee?”
“Yes,” she says, throwing an arm over her face. “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.”
I don’t stop what I’m doing. “It’s normal. Just let the feeling pass, darling. Ride it out. Ride it out on my fingers.”
Her legs move around me, her bare toes squeezing and digging into my sofa, as I carefully work the inside of her, and then just as I see her belly relax and her body-panic transform back into pleasure, I lower my mouth and trace the point of my tongue over her stiffened clit.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh.”
I alternate long licks and flickers of my tongue, my finger doing its work all the while and rubbing the inside of her wet little cunt, and then my skittish sort-of virgin starts panicking again.
“I—” she can’t find words, but her body is fighting itself, seeking release and also scared of the immense wall of sensation roaring ever closer, and I decide she needs a little persuasion to get all the way there. I take the entire bead of her clit into my mouth and suck.
The response is immediate, gratifying, electric. Something like a keening whimper echoes off the stained concrete and glass of my apartment as her feet dig deeper into the sofa and she arches her body, her inner thighs and belly going taut as a drumskin. And then the first rolling wave hits her, sending my name out of her mouth like a prayer, sending images of stained glass and gold-stitched cloth through my mind, sending spasms and butterfly flutters around my finger and against my tongue as she comes for the first time with me.
It won’t be the last. It won’t even be the last time tonight.
I coax her through the final waves with my mouth and my finger, watching her gorgeous face over the rise of her pubic bone and the planes of her stomach, watching how her eyebrows pinch together in something almost like worry, how her lips work around silent words, how her eyes stare down at me in glazed wonder. And then with a final kiss on her clit, I straighten up and slide my finger out of her, sucking it into my mouth to lick it clean.
Her eyes widen a little, as if she’s never imagined something quite so carnal as a man licking his fingers after touching a woman, and I smirk at her.
“I get a lot dirtier than that, darling. So buckle up.”
Chapter Fourteen
Zenny stares hazily up at me, languid-limbed, redolent of sex, and in a stunningly lovely sprawl that I wish I could look at for the rest of my life; the way her legs are parted easily now, her well-pleasured cunt available to view. The slowing, sated breaths of a woman coming down from orgasm.
“How did you like being eaten, sweetheart?”
“I like it a lot,” she murmurs. “Will you do it again, please?”
I laugh, pleased by her eagerness. “Any time you want. I believe I once promised you that I would show you how I can eat you from behind.”
Her mouth twitches up in a smile. “You did promise that.”
I’m on my knees at the edge of the sofa still, running soothing hands up and down her legs, trying to ignore my cock, which also wants a soothing hand up and down it. “How often do you masturbate?”
There goes that arm over her face again. “I don’t know if I can talk about this.”
