Page 26 of The Reaper

“Fuck me,” I admitted. “Use me.”

He laughed. “If you insist.”

Archer spat in one hand, keeping the other on my arm so he could maintain control. His fingers found my hole and he slathered his spit over it. He probed and tested my resistance to his assault, but found none. I had no plan to fight him off. I had my secrets, and he had his, but it was obvious we shared one of them. We wanted each other badly. He frightened and exhilarated me all at once. I fought all the warnings, including my best judgment, and still knew it was a losing battle.

The sound of foil ripping was followed by a cool sensation in my hole. His finger pushed through my barrier and he buried it in one swift movement. It was unpleasant and thrilling at the same time. This wouldn’t be sweet and loving. He knew it and I knew it. I doubted Archer even knew tenderness, let alone cared about it.

“If I let go of your arm, are you gonna fight me?” he asked. “Because I’m having this ass. It’s your call, Father.”

“Own me,” I said, bucking my hips. It was only his finger and I was out of control.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he responded. He pushed me forward before releasing my arm.

Archer ripped another foil open, and when I glanced behind me, the latex was stretched around his length. I awaited his cock during a brief moment of truce. He could play fair, I noted, but I felt the armistice would be short-lived.

He spat again, rubbing it over the condom. His hand came to my hip; a warning. I prepared for what I thought would be one painful thrust, but it didn’t happen that way. He pushed his tip against my hole and waited for me to accept him. I wasn’t a novice, but I wasn’t overly experienced either, so his approach was appreciated.

“You ready?” he asked, gripping both hips. “I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this.”

I was wrong.

He slammed into me in one thrust while I gripped the edges of the bench and inhaled deeply. The pain of forced expansion shot through me but I knew it would pass. In fact, calling it pain was a lie. It was all a part of the act—an act I quite enjoyed. I could play the part of the wounded animal until I was ready to strike.

“God …” I moaned as he filled me.

“You like it, don’t you?”

I nodded. “I love it,” I admitted, pushing back and taking him as deeply as possible.

His thick cock pounded into me while he held my hips, pulling me onto him over and over. He rested a foot on top of the bench and changed his angle as he fucked me aggressively. Pressing my lower back, he found his target; his aim was perfection as I began to feel a sensation inside that was the payoff for the initial discomfort.

“Take it, bitch,” he hissed, reaching for my hair and pulling my head back. “Cock-lovin’ priest.” He punched me once, hard, in the spot he’d been pressing on my lower back. It caused me to exhale abruptly, surprising me with its power.

I felt the first slap on an ass cheek. I flinched but didn’t say a word. Another smack, but this time with greater force, sending me to my happy place.

“Faster,” I panted. “Harder.”

He reached for my balls while he drilled me. He yanked them, taking me to the end of pain into pleasure. It was as if he’d read a script about how I needed to be used and knew each step in order.

“Stand up,” he barked. He pulled me to a stand by my hair and shoved me against the partition in the small space. He sat on the edge of the bench, glancing at his cock and then at me. “Sit on it facing me.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

His brow furrowed and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t recommend you make that decision.”

I pushed him backward and he fell clumsily against the bench. He studied me carefully as I reached behind his neck, joining my hands for support. Using him to keep me upright, I straddled him, my feet flat on the bench beside his thighs. He moved his hands to my neck again as I squatted, ready to receive him.

Archer lifted from the bench and shoved into me quickly. I would have gasped or grunted my disapproval but I couldn’t do either due to his grip on my neck. He eased some of the pressure and allowed me to breathe. I moved up and down, riding him. My dick rubbed against his stomach as we were joined in a frenzy. Two sinners chasing one goal.

“You’re good, Father.” He grinned when I stared into his light brown eyes. “Such a dirty fucking whore, aren’t you?”

He liked talking smack and he was a total badass too, but as we stared into each other’s eyes, he slowed down. It looked like he wanted to kiss me.

I slapped him, then spit in his face. “If you’re such a great killer, why do you fuck so poorly?”

He smacked me across the face and picked up the pace by holding my hips and forcing me up and down on his cock.

“You’re gonna have to try harder to piss me off, Father. I’ve fucked stronger than you dozens of times.” He reached for the sides of my head. He was clearly pissed about the back talk, so I prepared for a potential slap, or worse, maybe a gut punch or two. I received neither. He held the sides of my face and pulled me forward, kissing my neck. He was still inside me but had slowed down, grinding off the bench slower and with more targeted precision.

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