Page 25 of The Reaper

I stood in front of his half of the booth, giving myself one more chance to walk away. I should’ve walked—ran, even—from what waited on the other side.

But, like all sinners, I was weak.

I pulled the curtain open.

“On your knees, Father. For once, I want you on your knees, instead of you demanding we bow to you. Not tonight. Not tonight.”

I fell to my knees and had his swollen cock in my mouth instantly. My original plan was to torment him by teasing up and down his shaft with my warm and wet mouth, but he made it abundantly clear he had other plans. He held the back of my head and forced me onto his cock. I gagged and spit air as I tried to pull away but he was too strong and showed no signs of relinquishing control. I felt the first tinge of fear spread across my skin. I was in a small space with a murderer. All the signs were there. I’d made a huge mistake. And yet, I was thrilled beyond any euphoria I’d experienced.

Archer used his free hand to yank my hair. I might be a priest but this wasn’t my first experience. I became comfortable with being face-fucked and reached for his balls, squeezing and tugging on them aggressively. He squirmed in his seat as the pain and pleasure shot through him. Two people could play this game.

“What’s this, Father?” he asked. “I knew you were a cocksucker the moment I laid eyes on your pretty face. I hope you have more in you than that pathetic attempt at foreplay.”

I pulled his balls harder as his body stiffened, instantly extending his legs straight out, nearly knocking me over.

My hands slid over his stomach on the way to his nipples. Once there, I secured each one between my thumbs and index fingers, gently teasing and twisting, nothing too crazy yet. His cock twitched in my throat so I knew I had his attention. He moaned and stiffened, his body so rigid he was nearly horizontal in the booth. I waited like a cheetah crouching low in the grass, allowing him to relax and walk blindly into my trap.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, removing his hand from the back of my head and grabbing a wrist for more control in case I decided to get rough.

Once free from being gagged by his girth, I gently tugged my hand free so I could slide up and down his length, twisting and slobbering all over him. He relaxed in pleasure and let me take more control of his cock. I continued sucking him, taking him deep and then pulling off him, massaging his balls until I was sure he was calm.

Relaxing my jaw, I took him in deep, my hands finding his sensitive nipples again. It was then I wrenched his nipples and wouldn’t let go when he struggled under a strength he hadn’t known I possessed. He tried to wriggle away but his cock was still in my mouth and he must’ve been afraid of what I might do to it if he struggled too much.

I came off his dick, moved one hand to his balls and secured them in a tight grip. His nuts looked like a water balloon as I squeezed. My other hand clamped a nipple tightly and then I twisted it as hard as I could.

“You want rough?” I spat. “I can give you rough.”

“That’s all you got?” he asked. “What the fuck is this, Sunday school?”

I moved my face to the inside of his thigh. He probably assumed I went there for some more oral teasing, but he’d be wrong. I bit down on a tendon in his groin and twisted his nipple again, causing him to yank my hair. He held me away from him by the hair and glared at me. Maybe he did have limits. But then he grinned and his eyes sparkled with insane delight. Maybe he didn’t.

He let go of my hair and wrapped his hands around my neck and began to tighten his grip. I was thrilled to be in his clutch, thrilled that a man like him wanted a man like me. I’d succumbed to the virtual stranger in black. I wasn’t afraid of death and we could meet our maker together. My airway was constricted and he simply stared into my eyes with the pleasure of a predator. This was it. I’d been suckered into a scene of horror by this man. What would the congregation think? I grabbed his wrists to get his hands off my windpipe, but he was too strong. He became hazy in my view, a fading pair of sinister eyes as I headed toward tranquility. His grip let go and I gasped for air, inhaling as fast as I could, sputtering and glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “You started it.”

I slapped him, cutting the corner of his lower lip.

He spit blood on the floor, his eyes never leaving mine. “Not quite the way this goes, Father Superior.” He grabbed my hair again and pulled me to a stand.

I cherished the ecstasy of being manhandled.

He was beyond strong and came to a stand beside me. We took up most of the space so there was no escape from him—nor did I want one, anyway. I elbowed him in his side and he fell against the inside of the solid mahogany confessional. The noise reverberated throughout the church.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, grinning at him as he pushed up from the bench.

His face told the story of how he handled other men who challenged his dominance. His eyes narrowed and he held his shoulder from where he’d crashed against the wooden interior. It was the only time I’d seen even a shred of evidence he could be hurt.

He jumped toward me and held the back of my neck, bending me forward when he secured one of my arms behind my back.

“This is so much fun,” he growled. “I didn’t peg you for a violent man, Father. What else are you hiding?”

“We’re all hiding something,” I hissed, my teeth grinding as he held my arm high behind my back.

“What do you need, Father? Tell me your wildest and dirtiest fantasy,” Archer demanded. His free hand searched between my legs for my cock. His grip tightened and I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t actually break my arm.

“Oh god.” I grimaced from the pain.

“You don’t need God. I’m all you need,” he whispered in my ear, before biting and nipping my earlobe.

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