Page 7 of Seducing Daddy

Ludicrous how he towered over other men by six inches. To say nothing of his insistence on wearing butt-snug jeans, even when he preached a sermon.

What woman between twenty and eighty could resist lustful thoughts in a house of God with that kind of lineup?

Was I the only person who noticed that the man of God inspired fantasies of sexual healing and laying on of hands? Not to mention lips that appeared as though the angels had designed them to write poems upon flesh?

Heaven help us.

But that was all beside the point.

My storage room needed re-organizing so that my custom-crocheted vibrator covers were color-sorted on the shelves. Then I’d take new photos for the website. I raised the pricing for Peen-Unseen sleeves, which were the average size of vibrators and dildos—same as the normal penile dimension—between four and six inches.

Look, just because I avoided men like the plague didn’t imply I was incapable of being aroused.

My buddy, Slim, rocked me to mind-blowing orgasms whenever I had the itch. I repaid him by keeping his batteries charged and providing a cozy hand-crocheted pouch for him to sleep in.

Slim was reliable.

Never dipped his wick where it didn’t belong or teased me until I felt bad.

He was always there when I needed him—in the nightstand next to my bed.

Uncomplicated.

He had the right stuff to please the female clitoris and took care of me first.

Never demanded a thing in return and never left his dirty clothes on the floor for me to pick up.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed the benefits of an actual male penis as much as the next person. I just didn’t feel like dealing with what was connected to the other end of it.

Personal experience had proven that attachment to be a whole lot of trouble.

The reverend’s ridiculously husky voice broke into my reverie. “What does it take to turn that pretty mouth upward?”

I didn’t appreciate how he was thrusting those shoulders, a yard wide and molded like bronze, into my line of sight. “If Christmas won’t make you smile, maybe this will.”

He held a generous sprig of mistletoe over my head.

“A kiss?” I froze under his gaze and noticed he was watching me intently. “Sorry, but I have to go home and laugh at the idea of Preacher Pritchett kissing me on Main Street in front of the children’s choir.” I was both aggravated and excited. “You haven’t even asked me out yet.”

His voice was low and purposely sultry. “Would you say yes if I did?”

I could feel my heart beating strangely fast when suddenly, there was an outbreak of song behind him. “Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl.”

“Pipe down, kids!” I yelled at them, agitated. “Those lyrics are definitely not age appropriate for elementary school!”

He was now so close that I caught my breath, shocked, and murmured, “I don’t date. Surely, you know that. It’s a small town. Word gets around.” I climbed into my car, desperately intent upon escaping this man who, for some mystifying reason, had set his sights on me. “Besides, you’re a man of the cloth,” I said in a bossy tone. “Best mind your reputation or they’ll start calling you a ladies’ man.”

He leaned down to peer into my eyes, so close his breath stirred my hair, his proximity ensuring our conversation remained private. “There’s only one lady I’m interested in. Singular. Not plural. I obey the word of the Lord, but that doesn’t make me any less of a man, Jolene.” His stare contained something sensuous, flammable. “And God knows, you’re all woman.” His nearness was overwhelming, and much to my horror, he leaned closer and pressed his mouth to my cheek.

My inner Jezebel was apparently lying in wait until a man as devilishly handsome as he, with hands as big and square as a bible, came along.

Because, for just a second, the other end of that penis didn’t seem so bad after all.

Chapter 5

Rex

What was it about the woman that got under my skin?

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