Page 58 of The Preacher's Pet

To my surprise, I find myself close to tears, but I blink them away again. I don’t want to be known as the girl who cried after losing her virginity.

But my God, what a way to lose it.

30

OPHELIA

I am floatingdown from a blissful high as Cain gently pulls out of me. I’m sore between my legs and press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache.

Roman walks out of the room, still wearing his mask, and comes back a moment later with something in his hands.

He kneels right between my legs and gently pushes my thighs apart. He strokes the warm, damp cloth between my legs, carefully cleaning me. This feels so shocking, more so than the sex. It’s intimate beyond all belief, and I feel his gaze eating up every single millimeter of skin.

When he’s finished, he steps back and takes the washcloth to a sink on the far wall.

He runs it under a tap, then takes a mason jar from a shelf. He wrings the cloth out, and I gasp in mortification as my blood, and the water, run into the jar.

Why is he doing that?

Roman puts a lid on the jar and turns to me. “Thank you for giving us this gift. I’ve taken some of your maidenhead blood in case we need stronger magic to protect you in the future.”

He plucks a small metal tin from a shelf and heads back to me. I’d automatically closed my legs the moment he’d finished wiping me clean. His clinical demeanor is embarrassing.

“Open your legs, Ophelia,” he orders.

I do as he says, and Roman dips two fingers into the pot and sweeps a thick balm over my pussy.

It’s cool, but I gasp at him touching me in such a way, as he hasn’t at any point before. I’ve only just climaxed, and I’m still sore, but it sends electrical jolts of desire through me. He seems to pay extra attention to my inner folds, his gaze glued down there, as he smooths the ointment onto my skin, tracing every inch. He even dips the tip of his finger inside me a couple of times, and his breathing grows ragged.

He clears his throat and stands abruptly. “That will soothe you.” He places the tin on the shelf again. “Malachi, you have something you want to offer her?” Roman crosses his arms and leans against the wall, watching. Always watching.

“I was going to fuck her,” Malachi says.

He’s pulled the smooth, white mask back down fully over his face.

“No,” Roman commands. “She’s too sore for that. But you can give her your seed. While we are in this sacred space.”

Malachi turns his face in my direction. “Do you want that?”

Do I? I’m not entirely sure what it means, but I know I want more of this—more of the four of us together. Roman keeps hinting this is the only time it will happen, and I don’t want it to end yet. I want that connection with Malachi. I want to know what his cock looks like and hear the sounds he makes when he comes.

I nod, my mouth dry. “Yes, I do.”

Mal glances at Roman. “Where?”

“On her breasts and stomach,” Roman answers.

Malachi kneels over me, straddling my hips, and he pulls his cock out of his black jeans. It’s hard, not as thick as Cain’s, but long, and deep red at the end.

“I’m going to come all over these pretty tits,” he says. “Mark you with my cum.”

I’m boneless from my amazing orgasm, so I smile lazily at him. “Do it.”

Cain has dressed, and he stands by Roman, watching. The two of them, with their eyes on me from behind their masks, make me nervous. I’m so exposed to them like this. They can see everything about me, but I can’t even see their expressions.

Malachi edges his knees a little farther up on either side of my body, his erect cock leading the way. I wonder if he’s going to put it in my mouth, or perhaps squeeze it between my tits, but he reaches toward my face. He doesn’t touch my cheek, though; it’s my hair he sifts through his fingers.

“Can I wrap your hair around my cock?” His voice is harsh.

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