Page 21 of Praise Me: Priest

“Quiet,” I growl in her ear, lowering my mouth to bite her neck. Without gentleness.

“I…I…” Her pussy grinds around me, rolling my eyes into the back of my head.Mercy. Mercy. Have mercy on me.“I’m afraid I’m going to scream.”

“You cannot,” I pant, the fervor of my pumps increasing the volume of the bedsprings, the squeaks low, but insistent.Squeak squeak squeak. I manage to tear my eyes off the treasure beneath me to check on the monsignor, but he’s still blessedly asleep, despite the noise we’re making. A scream would definitely wake him, though. “Shall I pull my cock out and put it in your mouth to keep you quiet?”

She locks her legs around my hips, shaking her head vigorously. “No, Daddy.Please.”

I drop my forehead down on tops of hers, watching her expression melt into bliss when I grind, pressing and rubbing myself on top of her clit. “You’ve been asking for a hard fuck from your Daddy, haven’t you?” I rasp. “I’d say it didn’t takemuch convincing to chain yourself to my bed for play time, did it?”

“No,” she whispers, licking the seam of my mouth, an action that makes my balls jerk. “I just wanted to be a good little whore.”

My reaction is twofold.

I want to admonish her for calling herself that vile name.

I also want to treat her like one. Give in to the filth she’s offering me.

And I’m so close to climaxing, so ruled by lust, the latter wins.

“Yes, you are.” I pound deep, covering her mouth with my hand to muffle her moan. “You’re the best whore money can buy.” A rush of wetness from her sex, the languid loss of power from her neck, tells me she likes this treatment. Needs it. “But you’re such a horny brat, I bet you’d fuck for free.”

It’s a good thing I’m covering her mouth, because she does let out that scream and it results in rapture for me, because her cunt wrenches my shaft with the force of her orgasm, her feet kicking like she’s being assaulted, her hips lifting, legs doing their best to break my hips, but I’m too strong. I’m too mighty for that in this moment, with my hot, little sacrifice rippling around my dick, her mouth open and whining against my palm, her sexy body being flooded with so much pleasure, she’s shaking the bed.

“Feel me unload,” I grunt, forehead rolling side to side against hers. “Call me Daddy with those eyes, since I can’t hear it from your mouth.”

Just like that, she transforms into a man’s deepest fantasy, blinking up at me with open adoration, like she wants to play a secret game, and I fuck her for that. I ram so deep and so rough, she chokes like I’m pounding her throat, pussy a tight, wet mess that accepts me no matter how poorly I treat it, no matter howloudly the bed protests, it’s over now. My brain is off, my body is on and there’s one objective. A pregnant belly.

Pound, pound, pound.

Then, freedom.

I smother her, cursing hoarsely into the pillow beside her head while my balls pulse, sending electric spurts of seed up the column of my cock where I offer them to her womb, tendons twisting beneath my navel, every cell in my body on fire. Oh God,oh God. I can’t get close enough to the source of my pleasure, biting her shoulder and drawing my knees up beneath us, grinding into her for everything I’m worth, pouring my frustration and love and shame and exultation into the only body that I’ll ever touch.

“Mine. Mine, Farrah.You are mine.”

“You’re mine, too,” she gasps as I remove my hand, falling into the bed beside her, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. Seeing only her, the only thing I want to see for the rest of my life. Blind me to anything but her. I don’t care.

Remembering her need to be soothed after pleasure, I turn her toward me, rubbing my palms up and down her back and ass, laying kisses on her cheeks, in her hair, on her mouth. I kiss her until she passes out, deep in the pillows.

And then, with a sinking sense of dread, I begin to pray for guidance.

Chapter Ten

Farrah

Iwake up with a smile on my face that quickly dissolves.

Monsignor Hannibal is leaning over me, uncuffing my wrists. Morning light fills the room, forcing me to squint at my surroundings. Thankfully my nudity has been covered by a blanket, but when I turn to seek the comfort of the man beside me…

Rune is gone.

Rune is not here.

My wrists are freed and I rub the soreness away, while watching the monsignor warily. With a thick trench between his brows, he appears irritated, but I have no idea why. Does he know what Rune and I did in the darkness last night and his agitation stems from having to denounce a priest? Or is he annoyed because he thinks we passed his final test with flying colors?

Nothing could be further from the truth.

A prickly flush creeps up the sides of my face. Rune showed me last night what it is like to be desired to the point of desperation. Suffering. And I want that feeling again, as soon as possible. I want him on top of me, calling me his. Filling me. Degrading me at my own behest and cherishing me in the very next breath. Beneath this man is where I belong. My blood has never sung a truth so clearly.

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