When he turns around, something balled in his hand, his eyes alight upon me.
And he freezes.
But his erection slips out of his boxer briefs, pushing at the elastic, throbbing until it frees itself.
My heart starts to pound at the sight, and I do as I did last night.
Touch myself.
The sight has him tensing, and his mouth snarls somehow.
For the first time, I see him as the predator he is.
And I bask in it.
I’m his willing prey.
I’m his willing victim.
I thrust a finger inside myself, unused to the touch, a little achy because of it, but I do it because I know it will incite him further.
Somehow, he looks bigger. Harder.
Meaner.
And I love it.
I want the sinner and the saint.
I want both.
In me.
On me.
I almost groan, but I remember just in time. I have to be quiet. I have to be quiet. I have to be quiet. I have to be quiet—it’s a litany in my head.
I must have released a noise, though, because it pushes him into action. For a second, I fear he’ll leave me, but he doesn’t. He storms over to me and takes a seat at my side. Carefully, he raises my head, letting his fingers brush over my hair, and my scars, then as he tips it up, he bites out, “Open your mouth.”
I obey, and he pops what I see is a handkerchief into it.
The cotton feels funny against my tongue, but it’s worth it when he rumbles, “Good girl.”
I like that.
I don’t know why I do, but I do.
His hand gently lowers my head to the pillow, then he lets go and begins to trail fingers over my shoulders down to my breasts.
“What am I going to do with you?”
It isn’t the first time he’s asked me that, but I can’t answer. The fabric is thick in my mouth.
One hand moves down between my legs where he runs his fingers over my outer folds, and the other goes to my nipple.
He pinches it hard, and when I squeal, the noise is dampened by the cloth but not fully, triggering him to tap my pussy.
I jerk at that, not having anticipated it, but somehow?
It feels like fire has just combusted in my veins.
It’s roaring through my body, raging through my system.
“You like that,” he rasps. “I can see you do.”
He pats me again, and I don’t moan, but I feel how wet I am suddenly. The tap is more of a splat, and before I can be embarrassed, he rolls onto his back.
Though I see the flash of pain cross his expression, he grates out, “Sit on my face.”
Sit on his face?
What on Earth?
Before I can hesitate too long, he growls, then hauls me up.
Within seconds, I’m sitting over him, my knees on either side of his head.
This can’t be—
This isn’t—
Oh, God!
A scream throttles me, robbing me of air, choking me of breath as I struggle to contain it. His tongue lashing against my clit is like everything I never expected, and nothing I could have imagined.
It’s fire and ice, pleasure and pain. He sucks, he nips, he licks. He growls and grunts, the vibrations making me throb with delight and wonder, even as he makes me think this might be hell.
How can something be this good and hurt so bad?
How can I want it, but need something that’s so far out of reach I don’t know how to attain it?
The sounds he emits, the slickness of my flesh, it makes my head pound. The spots return, dancing in front of my eyes, only not in a bad way.
In a way that’s heaven sent.
My hands hover at my side as I try to figure out what to do with them, and in the end, I plunk them on the wall above the bed.
When I almost loosen the crucifix, I tense, but before I can worry if it’s going to plop down and smack him, he sucks on my clit and makes the most delicious noise—like I’m a fudge ice cream sundae and I’m the best he’s ever had.
I think my eyes cross, and suddenly, what I was reaching for is so close.
That I have to be silent, mute, is a torture so exquisite I don’t know if it makes this more enjoyable or not.
It’s painful not to be able to cry out, not to be able to shriek the glory of how he makes me feel, what he’s forcing me to experience.
I never expected this.
I thought the first time would be shameful for him, that he’d have sex with me and then roll away, abashed.
But he isn’t unwilling.
He’s not the priest right now. He’s the sin eater, and he’s eating me.
I almost melt into him as I’m bombarded with so many sensations I don’t know where to turn. Then, a finger slips inside me, and that’s it.
Game over.
How I don’t scream, I’ve no idea.
It throbs in my throat until I feel like I’m suffocating, and for a few seconds, maybe I am.
Maybe I’m choking on air, because the need to release all these wonderfully chaotic feelings is overwhelming me.
But then, just as it starts to overtake everything, it’s ratcheted up another level until I feel like I can fly.
When the orgasm slams into me? I crumple. My bones melt, my body turns to goo. I flop into the wall, and still, he eats at me like he’s ravenous for my pussy, and God help me, but I hope he is.
I can feel the crucifix knocking into my face, the cold gilt burning me for my sins, and I turn my face away, but not enough.
It’s there.
Just as he is.
Always.
God guiding me, forever, to Savio.
A keening sound is torn from me as I’m forced up the mount to bliss once more, but he stops the second I make that noise, and I tense as the realization I fucked up hits me square in the heart.
His fingers dig into my butt, hard enough to mark, but I like the pain. I love that he’ll have marked me.
Out of nowhere, I’m pushed off him, and just as I fear he’s going to storm off, I’m thrown over his lap. One of his legs comes over both of mine, and his hand comes down on my butt.
He delivers sharp, hard slaps that make me squirm on his knee. Nine in total, each harder than the last. Then, he leans down, takes some of my flesh between his teeth and bites down hard enough to make me squeal.
I almost choke on my tongue, but when he moves his leg, changing my position so only one of mine is held down by his, I’m not surprised that his fingers go to my cunt.
He spears me on two digits, scissoring them wide, and with his other hand, he starts spanking me once more.
The cold, hard slaps, the thrust of his fingers, it’s nothing like I thought my first time would be, and while there are tears in my eyes, it’s from happiness.
Each spank triggers a sweet release that has me creaming around his fingers.
Each hard thrust makes me squirm and rock back into his punishment.
I did the crime, I’ll more than gladly do the time.
When he pulls out, then starts tapping my pussy, I barely refrain from groaning. Staying silent is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
And I just had brain surgery.
So, yeah, that tells you how impossible this feels.
I shudder instead, forcing the pleasure back inside me until my muscles turn to goo once more.
As an orgasm rips through me, I have no place to go, nowhere I’d rather be, than impaled on a part of him.
When I fall lax, limp on his lap, his hand, wet from my juices, drifts over my butt and to my back.