Page 56 of On Your Knees

Part of me wants it again. All of it. The feel of his skin on mine, the heat of his breath against my neck, the way he kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered. My heart pounds in my chest as I move against him, and I can feel the intensity radiating off him. I can’t help but wonder if he feels the same.

But even as my body craves his, my stomach churns with fear. I’m terrified—scared to death of being in this room, in this situation, with the Delgado family watching us. Lazarus sits at the far end of the room, his gaze like a predator’s, always calculating, always watching. Enzo is no better, his leer making my skin crawl. I can feel their eyes on me, sizing me up like a piece of meat, and it takes everything in me not to flinch, not to show how much I want to crawl out of my skin and disappear.

Benedict tightens his grip on me, pulling me closer, grounding me. His face is calm, but I can feel the tension in him. He’s angry—furious, even—and I know it’s because of the way these men are looking at me. It’s like he wants to tear them apart, one by one. But we’re playing a dangerous game, and we both know it.

I keep moving, my hips swaying gently as I pretend to be lost in the music, but my heart is racing. The fear of what might happen next is nearly paralyzing. What are we even doing here? Why did we agree to this? I glance around the room, seeing nothing but shadows and faces I don’t trust. These people… they could kill us if they wanted to.

Benedict’s hand slides up my back, a reassuring touch that’s meant to calm me, but it only intensifies the internal conflict raging inside me. I want him so badly. I want to forget everything else and lose myself in him. But I can’t. Not here. Not now. Not with Lazarus Delgado smiling at me like he’s already decided my fate.

I glance down at Benedict, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the fear loosens its grip. He’s here. He’s got me. But even as I cling to that thought, the reality of where we are, the danger we’re in, seeps back in like a cold, unwelcome fog.

The music shifts, the bass deeper, more intense, and the men around us start clapping, egging us on, their voices slurring with alcohol and power. I try to focus on Benedict, to block out everything else, but it’s impossible. I can feel Lazarus watching, his gaze heavy and expectant, waiting for us to slip up, to give him a reason to strike.

I force myself to keep dancing, to keep pretending everything is fine, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go horribly wrong.

“Suck his dick,” Lazarus bellows from across the room, calculating and controlled.

My eyes widen as I gaze back at Benedict. I shake my head slightly, like we can’t possibly agree to something so drastic.

Lazarus stands, crossing the tiled floor of the club with purpose until he’s standing right next to me. “Do it,” he whispers close to my ear.

“On your knees,” Benedict commands, and my eyes nearly pop out of my eye sockets. He can’t be serious. “Don’t make me tell you again, Lina. On yourfuckingknees.” His voice is demanding, powerful, but I know it’s the part he’s playing.

I sink to my knees, knowing full well I’m going to have to do this.

I spot other Greedy Girls in the room doing the very thing I’m being asked to do with no protest.

Lazarus’ hand makes contact with the back of my head as he pushes me closer to Benedict’s lap. “Be a good little girl and suck theFatheroff.”

I can’t believe this is happening. Don’t get me wrong, I want Benedict more than words could ever convey, but not like this. Not with everyone watching.

I glance over my shoulder at Enzo, making sure he’s not videotaping this whole thing. That’s all we need. A video of us floating around to be used as blackmail.

I make sure my wig isn’t going anywhere, reminding me of my new persona. Lina. The Greedy Girl.

Benedict undoes his pants, pulling his dick out, and Lazarus slinks away. “Eyes on me. It’s only me and you right now,” Benedict says and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

The tension coiled deep inside me settles slightly at the sight of him. He grips his long shaft with one hand, pumping it slowly as his eyes glaze over.

“Open your mouth,” he demands of me, and I do as he says.

I stick out my tongue slightly as he pushes the tip of his dick against my open, waiting mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The gravity of the situation isn’t lost on me. This man is a priest, putting aside his vow for the sake of the greater good. A part of me should feel guilty, but it’s hard to feel so guilty about something that feels so right.

So good.

So unbelievably unattainable. This amount of pleasure should be the real testament that there’s a heaven.

Benedict groans, bringing my thoughts back to the present, and his eyes roll back into his head as he closes his eyes. His mouth hangs open as I swipe my tongue over the tip of his dick, letting my tongue nestle in the groove there. “That’s it,” he says through gritted teeth.

I raise my hands, my fingers wrapping around his girth. I wonder what it will feel like to be stretched by him. Have his dick so deep inside me. My core tightens as the thoughts invade my mind like a tidal wave.

I work his dick, not caring about anyone else in the room except Benedict and me. His thickness swells, and I grip him, swirling both my hands, letting my grip tighten slightly the closer I get to his head.

I then move my face closer, opening my mouth, taking as much of him as I can toward the back of my throat.

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