Page 54 of The Preacher's Pet

How can Roman stand to just watch?

“Feel that? My finger inside you?” I look up at her and she’s got her eyes open, her intense, dual-colored gaze holding mine.

This is so fucking crazy. She’s my childhood friend, and I’m going to be the first person to ever breach this virgin pussy.

“Add a second and start to stretch her,” Roman orders.

I do as he says and gently add a second finger. She’s so wet, it makes penetrating her easy, but I can feel how tight she is. Her pussy grips my fingers like a fist. I give her a moment to stretch and get used to the invasion, then I slowly withdraw, sliding them back out of her.

“Oh, God,” Ophelia cries.

I slide them back inside her and build up a slow but steady rhythm, pumping them in and out of her. I want to open her up enough that it doesn’t hurt when we take her virginity. I realize I’ve been ignoring her swollen clit, so I flick my tongue over it again and again.

Curling my fingers, I press against her front wall, searching for that pad of tissue. I find it, and rub and press against it, and soon she starts to pant. She’s breathing like a steam train, and her fingers grip my shoulders like claws.

“Oh, Cain. No. Yes. Oh, what …?”

Her thighs are shaking so much now that I’m surprised she can hold herself up. I know I’ve hit the right spot as she grows wetter and wetter. My fingers make obscene sounds in the room. I press again and again, right against that internal spot as I flick my tongue over her, until she shatters with a wailing cry.

She soaks my hand with her release, her muscles clenching my fingers, and I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life. I need to be the first inside her with my cock. I withdraw my fingers and bring them to my lips, sucking her juices from them. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are parted, but her eyes widen in shock at my action, and her cheeks get even redder.

I undo my zipper and push my jeans down.

“Did I say you could get undressed?” comes a voice from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder and give Roman what I hope is an angry enough look to make him realize that nothing is going to stop me from what I need. He’s still wearing his skeleton mask, so it’s impossible for me to read his expression.

He shrugs and acts as if this had been his idea all along. “That’s fine, by all means, carry on.”

I pull my shirt over my head as Ophelia stares at my chest. She reaches out with shaky fingers and traces the scars left by my father’s belt. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.

I catch hold of her hand, stilling its movement. “It’s okay.”

She gives her head the briefest of shakes, telling me it isn’t. I know that, but now isn’t about me. It’s about her.

I release her hand, and she heads lower, trailing down over my pecs, over my abs, to come to rest at the waistband of my briefs. My hard cock is outlined perfectly beneath the material.

“Take off her panties, Mal,” Roman orders.

Malachi does as he says and rolls them slowly down her thighs. Ophelia is with the program because she lifts her feet one at a time to help facilitate him taking her panties from her. With a grin that’s only partially obscured by his mask, he tucks them into the back pocket of his black jeans.

“I’ll keep this as a souvenir since you still have my jacket.”

Then he goes back to standing behind her and runs his hands over her breasts, down her sides, and skims them over the gentle curve of her hips. He trails them over her mound, where he slips his thick index finger between her folds and gently rubs her clit with his thumb.

She shivers and gives a soft whimper. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“You can and you will.” Roman steps into the circle but doesn’t touch her. Instead, he looks deep into her eyes. “This will heal you. You think I like this? It goes against everything Ibelieve in. That’s why I’m not getting involved. But I can see that healing work is happening here.”

I think he’s lying to himself, and he’s most definitely enjoying this. However, I don’t want it to stop, so I don’t point out his hypocrisy.

Roman glances around. “If you’re going to take her, we need a condom. I don’t have any, and I don’t think there are any here, so do either of you have one?”

I shake my head. Disappointment hits hard and fast. We can’t take her bare because we can’t risk getting her pregnant. I doubt she’s on birth control.

“You’re not on the pill, are you?” I ask her.

She nods frantically. “I am. When I escaped from the commune, my therapist thought it best if I went on the pill, just in case. I agreed, so even though I’ve never had sex, I’m protected against pregnancy.”

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