Page 61 of The Preacher's Pet

I groan at the mental image and squeeze my cock harder. Wanting some lubrication, I release myself and rub some of the blood from my knuckles onto my cock.

Now it’s Ophelia’s maidenhead blood I’m imagining is coating my shaft.

I continue to try to convince myself that wanting her isn’t wrong. It’s not the same as what happened to me—nowhere near it—but I still can’t shake the guilt.

Even with the guilt residing in my heart, I can’t stop now. In my head, I catch her and toss her to the ground. Then I’m on her, yanking down the front of her dress to expose her small, perky tits, feasting on them as I pull up the skirts of her dress. Her pussy is wet and wanting, and I press my cock between her legs and push inside her.

Movement on my cock grows faster, and my breathing increases, too. I know I’m close. There’s been so much buildup to this moment, after watching Cain fucking her, then Malachi coming all over her tits, that I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long. I buck my hips into my hand, my abs and thighs and ass clenching tight.

“Ophelia, fuck, yes, Ophelia,” I pant out her name.

Hot cum surges up my cock and splatters in an arc onto the forest floor. I jerk with each fresh new pulse, pleasure making my eyes roll, Ophelia’s name right on the tip of my tongue each time.

I fall back in a slump against the tree, breathing hard, my heart racing. When I recover, I tuck myself away then use my heel to scrape some fallen leaves over the mess I’ve made. I don’t have the energy to stand, and I don’t want to return to the tower, knowing the others will still be there, and they’ll know what I’ve done.

Sticky with shame, but finally sated, I close my eyes again and drift off to sleep with the tree trunk as my bed.

32

OPHELIA

I wake at first light.

I have Cain asleep on one side of me and Malachi on the other. Malachi is on his front, his face turned to one side, his dark lashes resting on his cheeks. Cain is on his back, one arm slung over his head. I find myself smiling at the sight of them.

Their big, warm bodies are bracketing me, and they make me feel so safe. I wish I could spend forever like this, sandwiched between them and protected. Their breathing is deep, and I love the way it feels to share this bed with them. I glance at my phone on the nightstand and carefully reach past Malachi to tap the screen. It lights up, and I see it’s early enough to stay a little longer.

I snuggle back in with them and snooze. I half dream, and all the fleeting thoughts and images are pleasant. This is how it must feel for most people. Those who aren’t haunted by the vengeful spirit of the Prophet. I can’t believe how tired the guys are. They’re both still sleeping heavily, and I wish I could stay with them all day.

I can’t, though. I have things to do, and also, I don’t want to make it awkward between us by overstaying my welcome. I really hope what we did doesn’t come between their friendships.People aren’t made to be in a threesome. Or even a foursome. But then I think of Camile’s friend who is with three men, and the girl at that party, and decide that maybe it isn’t impossible after all.

I’m wearing Cain’s t-shirt, which comes down to my knees, but I know I can’t walk back to the college like this. I need to grab my clothes and change.

With a pang of disappointment, I realize Roman still isn’t here. He left right after we’d finished the ritual. I’d hoped he would come back, but he hasn’t. Not last night and not this morning.

Has he gone back to his dorm room? I wonder if he did come back and found us all sleeping and left again because of my presence. I hate feeling as though I’ve chased him out of his own place. I bite my lower lip and try to push away the weight of worry. He’s a grown man who makes his own choices. That doesn’t make me feel any better about it, though.

I don’t want to wake Malachi or Cain, so I edge to the bottom of the bed and slide off. As I stand, I’m aware of the soreness between my thighs, but I don’t mind. It’s a reminder of what happened last night, and of how free I am now. My heart lifts with happiness. I want to skip and dance and click my heels together in a leap.

I’m normal, I tell myself. I’m just a nineteen-year-old girl who lost her virginity to her childhood best friend, and who is no longer haunted by a ghost.

I choose to ignore everything else that came with me losing my virginity—the inclusion of his two friends, for example, and the masks and candles and collection of bodily fluids by Roman.

I find my dress and slip folded up on the back of the couch, though there’s no sign of my panties. I remember Malachi keeping them in place of his jacket and hold back a giggle. I’m happy with that exchange. I quickly shrug off the t-shirt andreplace it with my own clothes. I hold Cain’s t-shirt to my face and inhale his scent. Would he mind if I kept it? I don’t think so. I’d like to keep it under my pillow and pull it out to smell every time I need comforting.

Leaving them sleeping, I sneak out of the water tower and hurry back to my room. The day is bright and warm, and birds twitter and sing around me. The sun is high in the sky, and I glance at my phone again and frown. Wow. It’s already late in the morning, so my snoozing means that I’ve missed the earlier classes—something I’m already feeling guilty about. I can’t go to my remaining classes like this, though. I must stink of sex, and after what Malachi did with my hair, it’s a complete disaster. I can feel the knots when I try to move my fingers through it.

My stomach flips again in excitement when I think of the events of the previous night. I want to hug myself with giddiness whenever I think about it.

I wish I could find Camile and tell her what happened last night. I desperately want to share my story with someone, but I also don’t want to be judged. I don’t know if she’d high-five me or reprimand me. But then I remember one of her other friends is with three guys, and she hasn’t said anything bad about them, so perhaps she’d be fine with it.

I know I shouldn’t worry about other people’s opinions, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been seen as the weird girl, the outsider, the one everyone has to tread on eggshells around for so long that now all I want is to fit in.

Nothing is going to ruin my mood today. I’ve got a constant smile lingering on my lips, and I can’t stop thinking about last night. I’m going to carry it with me like a good luck charm all day long.

Back in my room, I take a shower, gently washing my body and my hair. I wrap a towel around my wet skin and stand in front of the mirror to comb out any tangles. Do I look anydifferent? Will people walk past me and tell I’m one of them now?

Whore of Babylon! Abomination of the earth!

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