Page 95 of Priest and his Anarchist

Focus. I must stay focused.

I smile sweetly, shifting the loose strand that falls over his forehead. “If you’re going to start announcing me as your wife, you don’t get to play with your little toys anymore.”

His head hits an angle that accentuates all the pretty angles the Devil decided to grace him with.

“The girl from the party?” His brow rises. “Answer me something.” He turns serious a moment, his hands disappearing from my body. “Is she still alive?”

“No.”

I’m confused. And I don’t like the way my chest squeezes all the air out of my lungs every second his hands aren’t on me.

They land back on my thigh, and I relax.

Ridiculous.

He leaves a trail of fire in his path when he slides them up further. “So you’ve answered your own question.”

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore…” I say the words before I can shove them back down my throat.

“Oh?” He’s mocking me. “How so?”

My stomach dips when I notice the way he’s looking at me. “Because I am too.”

He rolls his eyes, his fingers dipping beneath my underwear. “You don’t count.”

“How so?” He directs my hips over the bulge in his jeans the same way I’d ride him.

He clears his throat and rests against his chair. As if relishing in my torment, there’s a deliberate slowness in the time it takes for him to answer.

“Because you’re the canvas, Luna. No longer the artist.” His mouth is back on mine, the strap to my dress sailing over my shoulder. My heart doesn’t know what to do as it rattles against the cage in my chest.

Sucking my nipple into his mouth, I don’t notice him untying the ribbon from my hair until it’s looped around my throat.

Tugging him out of his jeans, the shiver that rolls through me is potent enough to make my head spin when my fingers curl around his smooth skin.

He jerks on the ribbon, gesturing to his cock. “Spit.”

I lean back, saliva rolling over my tongue, before aiming my spit down at him. Using my thumb, I circle it over the rim while being careful to watch his cues. In all my years of knowing this man, I’ve never seen him more normal than he looks right now.

“Ride me.” His words set fire to my world as I roll my hips over him, gasping when he fills me to the brim. Inch by inch, my body takes him as if made to do so.

I sink my teeth into his neck to bury my groans, his fingers at my hips as he takes control, using my body as his own fuck toy.

Sweat leaves a trail down my spine as the pressure of his thrusts burns through my clit, my orgasm ripping through my body in desperate waves.

He catches my moans with his lips, sweat-slicked over my cheek. He looks up, and my heart flatlines when I’m met with velvet green instead of torment. The color reminds me of earth. The kind he most likely dug his way through when he crawled his way out of hell.

The unexpected shock of uncovering even a shadow of the man that resides beneath the darkness leaves my heart in pieces. It’s magnetic, and at this very moment, I’m not only obsessed with him.

I’m in love with him.

A sob chokes me on its way up my throat, but he catches it by kissing me again. His hand cups my face to hold me in place as he empties himself inside of me.

I’m screwed. I’m so damn screwed.

Cleaning the edge of my lip, he chuckles. “Put this on.” Removing his hoodie, he slips it over my head, leaving my hair tucked inside.

“I have a dress.” I raise a brow at him.

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