Page 42 of Priest

Priest couldn’t resist the temptation of that long, slender column, sliding his hand up Oliver’s abs and over his chest until he rested his palm on his throat, curling his fingers around the back of his neck. He held him firmly, not cutting off any air, just holding on possessively.

Oliver tipped his chin back down and met his gaze, his damp lips slack with euphoria.

Priest pulled out and then thrust back in, holding Oliver’s eyes. “You’re not going to run off like that again, are you?”

Oliver shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

“No. Because if you do, next time, you won’t get the pleasure of my cock inside you.”

Oliver sucked in a quick breath.

“No, if I have to chase you down again, I will throw you over my shoulder.” He thrust hard. “Carry you back home.” Another. “Andtie you to this fucking bed.” One more, even harder, driving Oliver an inch up the bed. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Priest. I understand,” Oliver moaned, still holding Priest’s eyes, even though his were heavy-lidded. His long, slender cock lay untouched between them, but it was practically purple, the tip drooling precum obscenely.

“Good. That’s good,” Priest said through gritted teeth, picking up his pace, beginning to chase his own pleasure as well. Oliver looked like one wrong move and he was flying over the edge, and Priest wanted to be there with him. “You are precious to me, Oliver. I will not be held responsible for what I do if you were to get hurt or be taken from me.”

Some of the lust cleared from Oliver’s eyes as he blinked a few times. “I’m right here. I’m safe.”

But he almost wasn’t, was almost lost in an explosion that tore apart his home and store.

And if Priest hadn’t come home when he had and found him gone, would he have been able to find him as fast as he had? Oliver had been sprinting away from the bookshop and club, following something no one else could see. How far would he have gone? Would he have made it? And what would’ve happened if he did?

Terror began to combat the pleasure growing inside him. Groaning, he fell forward, moving his hand out of the way and pressing his face into the crook of Oliver’s neck, shuttling his hips in and out.

He wrapped a hand around Oliver’s neglected dick and began to stroke in time with his fast thrusts. Just as they both reached their peak, he murmured against Oliver’s skin, “Don’t leave me.”

He was sure Oliver didn’t hear him. How could he over his shouts of ecstasy?

The scent of his come was thick in the air as Priest kept working him, drawing out every drop that he could before finally allowing himself to find his own release, grunting and pushing as deep inside Oliver as he could get, wishing he could crawl inside him. He released his seed into his lax body, sating part of the urge by leaving some of himself behind.

Oliver’s eyes were closed, his breaths still ragged, but he peeked up at Priest when he got up from the bed and wentinto the bathroom to grab a washcloth, bringing it back to clean Oliver up.

When he climbed back in the bed, he didn’t bother asking that time, just pulled Oliver into his embrace and held on. His body and his hunger were sated, but his mind couldn’t rest. Oliver didn’t seem to have the same problem, drifting off to sleep shortly after he curled into Priest.

He lay there with him for a long time, stroking a hand gently down Oliver’s bare skin, as much to soothe himself as Oliver. He inhaled their combined scents, taking it deep into his lungs and letting it fill him up, every cell of his being.

He needed to make sure that Oliver stayed safe. Even though he had said he trusted Priest and that they would find Poe together, he couldn’t forget Slate’s words from the second bombing site. If Oliver was the only person left from either attack, could someone come after him to try and take him from Priest?

There was no way he could be with him every second of the day if he was working with the team, and if he stayed home with Oliver instead of going to work with the others, Oliver would get pissed off at him, rightfully. They needed all hands on deck to figure out what in the nine hells was going on, but he couldn’t be distracted and worried that while he was at the office or out investigating, Oliver was out on his own, playing at detective and trying to use powers he didn’t understand yet.

No, things had to change. They had to adapt.

Pressing a quick kiss into Oliver’s hair, he carefully extracted himself and grabbed his cell phone from his discarded pants before strolling out of his bedroom naked. He went downstairs and headed straight for the den, pouring himself a large glass of gargoyle whiskey.

He drank down half and then unlocked his phone, pulling up the contact he needed. He didn’t let himself stop and think aboutit too long, worried he’d second-guess or get cold feet. He just hit the number and raised the phone to his ear.

A deep voice answered after two rings. “Hey, Priest. I’m surprised to be hearing from you so soon.”

“I need a favor.”

12

OLIVER

Consciousness was slow to come to Oliver, like his body was fighting waking up. Though the more he was, the better he felt. There was a faint energy buzzing under his skin. He’d never felt anything like it before. He couldn’t be sure if it was from his angelic blood as it continued to wake up and be more aware inside him or if it was from his sexy lust Demon making a whole damn meal out of him.

The longer he was awake, the less he could detect it until it fully faded away, leaving only him and his deliciously sore body behind. He was contemplating falling back asleep, a complete lack of urgency inside him to get up or do anything. Just as he was about to turn onto his side and attempt to drift back off, something thudded on the floor, and then that same lust Demon who’d turned him inside out with the flick of his tongue muttered under his breath, “Oh balls.”

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