Page 52 of Daddy's Sinner

“I'm not yours,” she whispers, cold and final, before slamming the butt of the gun into his face. He falls to his side with a soft thud, his hazel eyes remaining locked on her as she rises and walks toward me.

“Now I had to do the rescuing,” she teases, a smirk playing on her lips.

“You are so fucking amazing,” I chuckle, my body still wracked with pain, but the sight of her, the feel of her power, drowns it out. She turns back to Gabriel, her gaze predatory.

“Let me show you worship,” she says, her voice dripping with venom. “Watch me fuck my God.” Without another word, she straddles me, hermouth crashing into my bloodied lips. The taste of iron and lust mingles as our tongues battle for dominance. My head spins, my body throbbing with a mix of pain and raw desire. Despite everything, I'm turned on—more than I’ve ever been. The pain, the chaos, the sheer primal need in her eyes—it drives me wild. I’m willing to give her anything she wants, and if that means my cock, then so be it.

Her hands move down to my pants, no tenderness in her touch, just pure, unfiltered need. She frees me with a rough yank, her fingers gripping me with a worshipful hunger. In one swift motion, she sinks down onto me, her pussy tight and slick, swallowing me whole. The sensation is overwhelming—hot, wet, and consuming. Her movements are fierce, driven by something more than just lust; it’s reverence, adoration, and dominance all in one.

Each thrust is a sin, each moan a blasphemy, and I’m lost in it, lost in her. The church fire rages in the distance, the heat of the flames matching the inferno between us. An explosion rocks the ground, but it only fuels her further. She throws her head back, my name escaping her lips in a cry of ecstasy, a call to the heavens.

Her climax is violent, her body trembling as she milks every ounce of pleasure from me with a final shudder. She pulls off me, her eyes wild and unrestrained. She drops to her knees, taking me into her mouth, finishing me with ruthless skill. I come hard, my release flooding her mouth as she moans around me, the vibrations sending aftershocks through my body. But my little sinner is still not done. I watch her rise to her feet, her eyes still wild and a wicked smile on that beautiful face, her mouth still full of my cum. She strides over to Gabriel, who’s barely conscious, his eyes fluttering between pain and delirium. She grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, and leans in close, her lips hovering over his.

“You will be purified,” she murmurs, before spitting my cum into his mouth. His eyes widen in horror, but he doesn’t have time to react. Shepresses the gun to his stomach and pulls the trigger, the shot echoing like a death knell as his body jerks violently.

Gabriel's groan of agony mixes with the crackling fire as she stands over him, her gaze cold and unforgiving.

Corinthians

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Corinthians 5:17

Dove

Three Months Later…

Georgia

Idied that day. Well, to be exact, Marisol Morales died that night. After Matheo beat Gabriel to death, he released the files given to him to the local police department. With the church compound burned to the ground, there was nothing left to pursue. Everyone in the church died that night. It wasn’t Matheo’s fault; he would have never known about the pact… the true devotion. Nothing prepared the town of Taos for the discovery of all those bodies. Families. Children. The innocent and the guilty, all gone.

As for us, we left New Mexico and headed east, shedding our old lives like the skin of a snake. Matheo became Michael, and I became Paloma. The irony. We settled in a small town in Georgia, far removed from the desert landscapes and the memories that were too painful to carry. The new place offered us the scent of magnolias and Spanish moss; most of all, it offered us a fresh beginning. One I welcome.

Matheo walks out of the shower with his towel wrapped around his waist and beads of water still lingering on his inked chest. His eyes, no longer carrying the haunted look from before, meet mine with a warmth that coils around my heart.

“Morning, little sinner,” he says, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” I murmur, drinking him in like a tall glass of lemonade on a sunny day. The religious ink that adorns his chest, a constant reminder of our past life, seems out of place amidst the peaceful serenity of our new home. The old symbols of faith that once filled him with guilt nowmerely echo an old chapter of our lives, a book closed and sealed forever.

“Keep staring like that and we might have to delay that morning run you’re so fond of,” he says with a devilish grin that stirs a flutter in my stomach.

I throw him a playful smirk and take another sip of my coffee, its bitter richness melding perfectly with the sweet taste of safety, freedom, and most importantly, love.

“Empty threats, Matheo,” I reply, my eyes sparkling with mischief and the morning light. He laughs, a rich, rolling sound that fills the room with warmth and joy. It is a beautiful sound; one I could spend the rest of my days listening to.

He raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a teasing smile as he slides the towel from around his waist. Gripping the base of his hard cock, he simply says, “Your call, love.”

I raise an eyebrow, my mischievous smirk deepening as I set my coffee cup down on the kitchen counter. “You’re going to tempt me into sin, Priest,” I say, and the devilish smirk that spreads across his face tells me he is. Slowly, he moves his hand up and down his shaft as he approaches me. “Lay on the counter, I’m hungry.”

Without a word, I comply, my heart racing with anticipation as I perch myself on the cool marble counter. The contrast of cold stone against my warm skin sends a shiver down my spine, but it’s not from the cold. Matheo follows, his gaze burning with desire that matches mine. The sight of him approaching sends a thrilling rush throughout my body, making my heartbeat faster in anticipation. His tattooed chest glistens under the dim kitchen lighting, his muscular arms flexing slightly as he moves towards me. I can’t help but admire the man before me. He is like a prowling panther, powerful and sleek, every muscle beneath that inked skin coiled and ready to pounce.

Without a word, he grips my legs, his fingers warm against my skin, sliding them closer to the edge of the counter. The glint in his eyes and that rapacious smile promise all sorts of wickedness, a sweet sin I am ready to indulge in.

He gently spreads my thighs apart, stepping in between them. His gaze locks onto mine as his tongue traces down my leg, then back up again, leaving a hot trail of anticipation in its wake. His hands slowly move up my body, and my breath hitches as his lips continue their path, leaving a trail of fire.

His hot breath fogs up my skin, his dark eyes never leaving mine, watching me, studying me, as if he were committing every sigh, every shudder to memory. Every nerve ending is on high alert, anticipating his next move, and my devil doesn’t disappoint. Matheo leans in, his breath warm against my inner thigh before descending onto my sensitive skin. He teases me lightly, his tongue doing wicked things that send pleasure coursing through my body. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, my hands clutching the edges of the counter as his teasing grows bolder.

His fingers trace up my inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet setting me on fire. Matheo’s fingers linger at the hem of my nightgown, his dark eyes never leaving mine—a challenge, daring me to deny him. But I am already lost in him, my pulse quickening with every second that passes.

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