Page 41 of Bathed in Blood

If he asked me to help him drag each congregant out and introduce them to the violence and misery that chokes me…with tears in my eyes, I would.

My hands grip the back of the pew as he has me kneel on the seat, his lips peppering each notch in my spine with kisses. I can feel them deeper than the surface of my skin, as if he’s touching past the vertebrae and into the sinew and meat—a kiss, an itch I’ll never be able to rub out. I suck in a breath as he reaches my ass, his tongue dipping out to taste the sensitive skin linking my core to my asshole.

“Relax, princess. I will never take you here.” The words are a growl, menacing.

Instead of embarrassment, my eyes again burst with tears. My nails dig into the built-up wax on the pew, leaving little crescents in their wake, a gratitude I can’t swallow past cloggingmy throat. When I bend, my forehead knocking into the pew, emotion I’ve spent years refusing to feel threatens to drown me. It’s his tongue that helps me surface. My breath is robbed from my lungs as his tongue finds my already wet slit, lapping at it with slow, methodical strokes. He spreads me further, careful of my still-healing ass, his tongue seeking out my clit. He sucks it between his teeth, making me buck, the pressure too much all at once. When pain borders too close to pleasure, his hands pave their way up my sides, his fingertips tickling me, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Christian…” I plead, my clit still held captive between his teeth, his tongue teasing it.

He groans against me, giving the swelling nub an extra flick of his tongue.

He’s saying wait.

But I can’t

I’ve waited years for him.

My knight in shining armor.

“I need you.”

His fingers find my nipples, teasing and flicking. I’m moaning, bucking into his mouth, blind to the way my bandage is pulling free from my skin, the warmth of my own blood coating my hip. Christian pinches my nipples at the same time as he releases my clit, lavishing it in tiny circles, and light explodes behind my eyes, the scream leaving me guttural. He wields the pain I’ve grown accustomed to, the pleasure I chase expertly.

“Fuck, you are perfection, sweet Lana. All mine.”

“Yes, yours,” I pant, my head reeling from the violent and sudden climax. I’m grappling, but he’s already pulling me up into him. My legs are weak, blood running down my leg again, but I don’t care as I work his t-shirt over his head. My heart is racing in my chest as I look up at him, asking permission.

His smile is everything, and I don’t waste a second.

My lips trail over his chest, the scars there, wondering when he got them, vowing I’ll memorize every story one day. My tongue teases over his nipples. When I go to kneel, my hands working to open his belt, he catches me. “I’ll let you explore my cock with that pretty mouth another night, princess.”

Princess. That name should fill me with resentment, hate. Maybe even fear.

Yet, every time he says it, my stomach fills with butterflies.

He backs me up the small stairs on the stage, leading me to a long table laid out before the large crucifix suspended on the wall. It’s cold on my back as he lays me out, spreading me open. “I was worried you wouldn’t want me.”

I freeze on my mission to remove his pants, so he takes over. My eyes snap to find his on my chest, not meeting mine, and it’s not until his brows knit together that he does. The vulnerability in his deep green depths hits me like a ton of bricks, and for a second, I believe him without reservation, forgetting everything that brought me here. “And if I had?”

His teeth snap together, venom filling his voice. “I would’ve slaughtered everyone in this church and then implored you to reconsider. My sweet, sweet Lana. I stole you from your tower, but you had claimed me long before I met you.”

I scream for friction as he rubs his daunting length up and down my slit, covering himself in my arousal. “You were a fan?”

“I was obsessed with you. It was out of necessity at first. You and those cunts were ruining my life’s work. Then, you stumbled on your way back to the SUV. You were… delicate, awkward,sweet.You were mine.”

I gasp as he sinks the head of his cock inside me, bobbing there for a moment despite the clenching of his jaw, the restraint it's taking him to draw this out plastered on his taut muscles. “And when we return to your home? What’s changed?” I gasp,desperately trying to bear down, needing to be filled by him despite my blood now slicking the table underneath me.

The smile he grants me is nothing short of sinister as he leans down, kissing the tender area just beside where he cut me. “For Vanegas, family is forever. Family comes first, always.” He moans as he runs his tongue through the blood, dragging it up towards my navel. “So I made you family, and when I pump your pretty little cunt full, and your stomach swells with my child,” my core tightens, desire making my version blurry as he licks his lips, “neither you, the Sullivan line, nor the full force of the Vanegas wrath could tear me from you. This…” He leans up, towering over me like a god.My god. “This is forever. Even if I’m long rotted in the ground, you will carry the Vanegas legacy. There will be no other for you, no other for me,wife.”

With that, he buries himself inside me, and I watch Christ—my husbandunravel. He grasps my hips, careful of the damaged skin, lifting them off the table as he makes good on his words. Every vow, he pounds into my flesh. I’m a leaf dancing on the ocean, at his mercy as he fucks me. The roll of his hips is long and deep, hitting something inside me that leaves me desperate, whimpering. My mouth gapes to tell him, to beg maybe, but my voice fails, so I settle for showing him.

I’ll be worthy of the Vanegas name. There’s no going back for me either—only forward, and I choose him every bit as much as he chooses me, whatever that means.

I’m not ready to say goodbye to the breeze, but one day… I will be.

My nails score his skin as I claw my way up to him until he’s holding me, his cock still plunging into me relentlessly, sending me to levels I’d never achieved. Our skin slapping together fills the chamber, the stained-glass bearing witness to our need. His hand knots in my hair, forcing my head back. “You want me to stuff your cunt full of my cum?”

“Yes. Please.”

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