Page 56 of The Preacher's Pet

OPHELIA

“Yes,”I whisper in answer to Cain’s question.

My heart is beating so hard I feel faint. Despite being naked, I’m hot and clammy. I’m not sure if it’s arousal or nerves, perhaps both. Cain tangles his fingers in my hair as he pulls my head back and places a gentle kiss against my lips. It’s quite a chaste kiss, and I think it’s meant to be reassuring, but all I can taste is myself on him, and it’s such a shock. He kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose, my forehead, then kisses me once more on the mouth before stepping back.

“Anytime you need to stop, just say.” He squeezes my hand once before he pulls his briefs down.

His huge cock slaps against his stomach, and I gasp. I stare in shock.

Reacting without even thinking, I point. “That’s not going to fit.”

Cain laughs softly at my words.

Roman steps to one side, as though to get a better view, and folds his arms. “It will fit, because we’ve got you ready. Malachi will use his fingers to open you up more, then he’ll guide Cain inside your virgin hole. You’ll be our perfect offering. Just thisone time, we will do this and, after tonight, we won’t speak of it again. For tonight, though, Ophelia, you are ours.”

I swallow hard. This is suddenly oh, so real.

He said Malachi would touch Cain; that’s such a sin, surely?

“Do you mind him doing that?” I ask Cain.

He shakes his head. “When we are masked, it’s different. You go into a different headspace, become something else entirely.”

“It’s a transgressive state,” Roman says.

The idea gives me a frightened thrill.

There’s a huge bed in the corner of the room, but it’s clear my first time is to be within the circle of candles. It reminds me that we’re not only doing this for the fun of it—there’s a reason behind it, and it’s important. This is to make sure that once and for all, I’m free of the Prophet, and not only because of the cleansing ritual to rid my head of his voice.

Once I’m no longer a virgin, he won’t have any use for me. The physical Isiah Abram is still out there somewhere—something I’m still conscious of. Though he has no idea if I’m even alive, it’s a constant worry in the back of my mind that one day he might find me again.

If I’m soiled, tarnished, then he’ll no longer want me as a wife, though he may still kill me as punishment for escaping him.

Maybe it’s my fear of that happening that has created the voice. And if the voice isn’t real, and it’s just my mind making him up, once I’ve done this, I’ll have proven to myself I’m in charge of my own destiny. Either way, I’m hopeful this works for me.

Roman steps out of the circle to grab a blanket from the back of the couch, and he places it on the floor.

Between the three of them, they gently lower me to the floor. I am the sacrificial lamb.

Cain picks something off the floor, and Malachi does the same. I realize it’s their masks. They both pull them back over their faces, and my heart steps up a notch. Roman never removed his, so now I’m lying on the floor with three masked men standing over me. Only Cain is naked except for his intimidating face covering, and he fists his huge cock and strokes it up and down.

It’s so erotic because he could be anyone. For a moment, I slip into a fantasy that it’s not Cain, my childhood friend, but a masked man who found me in the woods and is going to do sinful things to me, whether I let him or not. My body likes that fantasy, and my clit throbs.

Cain continues stroking himself, his chest rising and falling. I’m mesmerized. I’ve never seen a man’s erect cock in the flesh before. The belled curve of the tip is smooth and dark red, and as I watch, a single bead of fluid appears from the slit.

“Oh!” My mouth suddenly waters, and I scramble to my knees. I’m nervous as hell, but I want to experience all of it. Everything. Didn’t Roman say this might be the only time I get to do this? “Can I taste it?”

Cain’s abs flex, and he nods behind his mask.

I feel like I should get to know this dick before I let it inside me. I flick my tongue hesitantly over the slit, tasting the bead of fluid. It’s salty and hot, and I roll the flavor around my mouth. My pussy pulses in response, my nipples tingling. Then I lean in and inhale the musky scent of his cock, running my nose down the length, brushing the tip against his skin. How can something so silky soft have such hardness beneath?

Cain’s breathing has grown ragged above me, and I find that I’m enjoying having this effect on him. Maybe I’m submissive by nature—or perhaps it was trained into me—but there’s a power in making a man breathe in such a way.

He doesn’t touch me, allowing me to explore him. I use my tongue to trace the thick ridges of the veins, then tentatively cup my hand to his balls, and lightly squeeze. As I gently play with his balls, his slit pulses out another bead of fluid, and I find myself utterly fascinated by his body’s reactions. I’m aware of both Malachi and Roman watching. How do they feel about me lavishing such attention on their friend’s cock? Do they feel any jealousy? Do they wish it was them?

A quick glance to the front of Malachi’s jeans confirms he’s hard, and as I glance at Roman, I see him press his hand against his robe at his crotch. It’s a brief touch, but I see how turned on he is from the hardness his palm highlights for that second in time. Roman insists he doesn’t want this, despite his obvious arousal, but I know Malachi does.

“Angel,” Cain groans, “you need to stop now if you want me inside you.”

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