Page 39 of The Reaper

He was so still. I wondered if he was going to leave. I doubled down and spread my legs apart, hoping to draw his attention. I released a gasp when he grabbed my throbbing cock. The warmth of his touch hurtled me near the edge. I struggled to hold back the release threatening to erupt. I needed to last.

Twenty: The Reaper

He was awake, I was fucking sure of it. His eyes fluttered, the eyeballs following my every step through closed lids. Father Saint James gave up his last ace when he spread his legs apart. No way it wasn’t intentional.

He was driving me fucking crazy. He must have had a death wish provoking me the way he did earlier. Only a mad man would do that. But, then again, he didn’t have a clue who I was and what I was capable of. Storming out of the church was a needed separation between us. My instinct had been my north star guiding me through countless sticky and deadly situations, but not where he was concerned. I didn’t know if my anger was toward him or me, for allowing someone like him to rattle me the way he did.

The priest shivered under my touch. I slid my palm up to the head of his dick, spreading the pre-cum leaking from the slit with my thumb.

He gasped.

Sleeping my ass.

If the father wanted to keep up this charade, I was fine with it. Having him lying naked on the bed, available to whatever I wanted, offered me a rare opportunity to explore his body.

It couldn’t have been comfortable pretending to be sleeping with a rock-hard cock. What man alive hasn’t woken up to find himself stiff and horny. So, if he wanted to play, I would willingly go along with his ruse.

While I rubbed my thumb across the head, I cupped his balls. His legs twitched and his cock flexed, the head expanding with each flex.

Spitting in my other hand, I brought them both to his cock and twisted up and down the shaft. Subtle cues of pleasure gave away how it must’ve felt for him, so I increased the friction and noticed his breathing had become ragged. I wondered if he thought he was having a wet dream. That was a possibility, but I still bet he knew exactly what was happening.

I kept the pace going as I twisted and tugged on his girthy piece. Moving a hand away, I gently moved it over his chest, cupping each pec as I crossed them and giving a soft twist to each nipple. Every time I pinched down on one, his cock sprung, letting me know the wiring was definitely connected.

I undid my jeans and shoved them down to my knees while keeping my attention on him and his burgeoning erection. He was leakier than a flat tire. Spreading his natural lubricant, plus my spit, each stroke became easier. My own cock was thickening and looked purple and angry from lack of attention. So, I rubbed, helping it achieve its full potential.

He remained quiet and motionless under my touch, so I leaned over him and took his cock in my mouth, licking around his mushroom head before slowly going all the way down on him until I felt him nudging my throat muscles. I had a mouthful, but I knew my way around a dick.

His cock was buried in my mouth and I tugged on his balls, massaging and squeezing them as I moved up and down on him. His breathing was heavy. He’d hold his breath with each tug on his balls until I relaxed the pressure and focused on his cock, then he’d slowly exhale.

My own dick was dripping and needed release bad, and since he was sleeping, I knew it would be up to me to find my own pleasure without any assistance from Sleeping Beauty. I stroked my cock, keeping time with the twist of my tongue around his dick. His breathing quickened and his legs stiffened straight out, locking his knees in place.

I deep-throated him and held his cock in place, feeling him swelling in my mouth. Very subtly he lifted his hips from the bed and met my mouth with small thrusts. I didn’t care if he was awake, asleep, or in a fucking coma. His cock tasted amazing and I was down for whatever type of sex he wanted.

My orgasm was nearing and I carefully watched for hints that he was ready to bust a nut as well. My own breathing became heavier around his cock and I concentrated hard on pushing him over the edge. My speed and suction increased as he lifted his ass from the bed and forced into my throat as deep as he could. He’d remained careful not to move one of the hands lying by his side, even though I wished he’d grab the back of my head and face-fuck me. He seemed close, and so was I.

A gasp escaped his mouth one moment prior to him shooting his load into my mouth, and then he held his breath as I stayed focused on draining him completely. I enjoyed my mouthful of his cock and sucked gently until his tremors subsided. I smirked, sure he’d had a satisfying dream.

I stood, and when I thought he was done coming, his cock shot another load onto his stomach.

Three pumps later, my own load gushed, coming all over Father Saint James’s chest, some drops finding his cheek. I fought the desire to yell out loud from my enjoyment but stifled my moan.

I zipped my pants up once my breathing was steady. The sight of him covered with our releases was the most erotic scene I’d ever participated in, and I’d been involved in more than the average number of trysts. Fighting the urge to lick every drop of cum off his body, I pulled a small box from my pocket and dropped it on the nightstand. It was a golden rosary from Monaco, a gift for Father Saint James. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the sleeping priest when I noticed the drawn curtains of his bedroom windows. Without hesitation, I pulled the drapes open before walking out.

I was next to my Harley when my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Tobias, The Savior. Finally. After a couple of weeks of radio silence, I’d dreaded something had happened to him. It wasn’t far-fetched considering the lives we lived.

Same place at 11 PM tonight. I deleted the text, a precaution we took whenever we didn’t want a trail of our conversations. I slid my phone back into my pocket without responding and whizzed through the quiet streets, the growling of my bike earning me a couple of looks from night crawlers like myself.

Going around my ass to get to my elbow, I spent an extra twenty minutes zipping through traffic and going out of my way to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The parking garage for my apartment was quiet—almost too quiet. I carried my helmet in one hand while keeping the other on the gun at my waist. The sound of my boots pounding on the concrete floor echoed in the cavernous space.

The sound of rattling metal snatched my attention. I stopped. A loud bang slammed behind me. I drew my gun, whirling around.

“Damn car is dead,” the guy said, kicking the front of his old beat-up Mustang. He glanced my way, eyes widening at the sight of me. He raised his shaking hands. “What the hell, bro? I ain’t got no money ’n’ shit!” he said, thinking I was there to rob him.

I wedged my gun back into my waistband after realizing it was my neighbor who’d caused the noise. Without an apology, I headed up to my floor. I need to fucking calm down.

I hadn’t yet made it into my apartment when my phone buzzed with another text from Tobias.

Change of plans. Meet me @ Castle Island. Another message followed. By the fort.

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