Page 46 of The Preachers' Promise
Mal breaks off from kissing Ophelia, and they both look my way. Their cheeks are flushed, hair ruffled, but there are smiles on both their lips, and that’s what matters.
“Sure is,” Mal replies. “This guy has a fuck-ton of money.”
“Doesn’t he?” My desire to know more burns deep. I find it hard to trust people, and especially hard to trust men with this kind of money and power.
“Is he a pop star, do you think?”
Ophelia looks at me as she speaks, and she’s smiling, but I can see that tiny bit of distance still in her gaze, and I know the smile is because of Malachi, not me.
I don’t want that hesitation there. I want to erase it and feel the closeness we shared the night I gave her my virginity. That night when, in return, she gave me everything.
Cain’s deep voice comes from behind me.
“He’s definitely not a pop star.”
I step deeper into the room, so he can, too.
He glances at Mal and Ophelia and grins. “Don’t you two look cozy?”
“Ophelia, are you sure you should be….” I trail off, gesturing ineffectively at her and Mal, not able to put my worries about her kissing and touching any of us right now into words. I hate it when I get like this. I second guess myself, and I find it hard to put my thoughts into coherent words.
She stands from Mal and walks to me.
“Roman, you scared me, I won’t lie, but you alsosavedme. I’m okay and, in large part, that’s thanks to you. And yes, I’msure. I needed some time to myself, but now I’ve had space to think, I don’t want that man’s touch to linger as the last thing on my skin.”
She shocks me when she takes my hand and lifts her top, placing my palm on her bare stomach.
“Wipe away his touch,” she whispers. Her gaze moves from me, to Cain, and back to Mal. “All of you.”
She doesn’t need to ask twice. The atmosphere in the room morphs from tenderness and concern to something animalistic. Cain stalks over to us and stands behind her, his huge palms coming around to gently cup her breasts.
He bends down and kisses her ear. “If you need a breather or want this to stop, just say.”
“Do I need my safeword?” she asks.
Cain makes a low rumbling sound of dissent and kisses the side of her throat. “No, baby, just saystop. Today, all you need isstop, and it all ends.”
He looks at me, our gazes colliding over the top of Ophelia. His eyes are storms of need and pain. He’s feeling the same emotions as I am, I do believe.
“Why don’t you let us show you how gentle we can be?” He peppers another kiss against her neck. “Let us worship you, Angel.”
Her head drops back, her eyes fluttering closed. “God, yes, please.”
The please comes out on a desperate moan and it goes straight to my cock.
“The bed upstairs in the second guest room is massive, and it has pure silk sheets,” I inform them.
“Then, what are we waiting for?” Cain swoops Ophelia up, tossing her over his shoulder, making her laugh. Her chuckles turn into a surprised little yelp when he brings his free hand down on her ass.
“No fair,” she protests, “you said gentle.”
“Couldn’t resist, but I’ll be good from now on, I promise, Angel.”
He carries her upstairs, Mal and me following hot on his heels. When he reaches the guest bedrooms, I direct him to the one I showered in, and he kicks the door wide open. He marches over to the bed but doesn’t place Ophelia on it. Instead, he puts her on her feet right by it.
“Stay perfectly still, Angel, while we help you get out of these clothes.”
The three of us make fast work of getting the t-shirt over her head and the shorts pulled down. She’s not wearing underwear and, when I see her pussy, I groan. Gods, this beautiful woman. She’ll be the death of me, of all of us.
