I tugged my cock free with regret a few minutes later. I would fuck her again if I didn’t, and I was pretty sure she was getting sore.
I turned the water off and grabbed a fluffy towel and patted her down before carrying her back to the bedroom and laying her down.
“Are you hungry?” I asked as I used the same towel to hastily dry myself off. “We sort of skipped dinner.”
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Cynthia said shyly, grabbing the covers and tugging them over her naked body.
“That’s probably a good idea, sweetheart. Unless you want to go for round four. I could spend a couple of hours with that sweet little ass of yours if your pussy is sore.”
She turned bright pink and I laughed.
“That can wait. First, we need to talk.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cynthia
My body was heavy and drowsy from the pleasure Preacher had given me. I felt wrung out and hung to dry, like laundry. But not in a bad way. The truth was, I’d never felt better. I was pretty much blissed out.
I felt a little shy about everything we’d done. Well, more than a little. I felt a lot shy. But I didn’t exactly regret it, either.
I kept telling myself that he’d be gone in a few weeks, anyway. That I wouldn’t have to face him day after day, knowing that he had intimate knowledge of every inch of me—literally. That I’d finally given into this crazy fascination I had with the man, the crazy push and pull I felt toward him. That he’d thoroughly initiated me and now we could both move on.
We had to be out of each other’s system by now, right? One night of passion should do it. We could both get back to work managing the church and doing our best to help the people who lived around here.
So, the sex had been mind-bendingly good, but we didn’t have to do it again. It was time to stop. I’d kiss him goodbye and tell him never again.
But . . . maybe I was being too hasty. I didn’t have to call it off, or at least not until Paul came back, I decided. I wouldn’t mind being ‘initiated’ a few times more.
Preacher sat on the bed and looked at me. He was as bare as the day he was born. Somehow, his body hair and long waves made him look even more naked. So . . . male. And that giant member of his was pointing at me again.
“Don’t you want . . . pants?” I asked. I grabbed my nightgown from under my pillow and was tugging it over my head when the fabric was yanked away.
“What?”
“No need for clothes between us. Secrets either. Not now.”
“Oh.”
I stared at him, not sure what he was after. I’d thought he just wanted sex. But now he wanted to talk?
Preacher was one hundred percent a mystery.
“Eyes up here, missy,” he joked in his gravelly voice.
I blushed bright red. It was true. My eyes had been wandering. It was hard to look away from his broad shoulders, hard chest, flat belly . . . those narrow hips, thick thighs, and that giant . . . well, you know.
I tossed a pillow at him.
“Cover yourself up, then.”
He chuckled and placed the pillow over his crotch. His ink covered chest and shoulders were still visible, golden and tanned and muscular. Not to mention his thighs and calves. The man’s legs were like tree trunks. Even Preacher’s feet were sexy. Big and manly and well-made.
His handsome face was relaxed, his sensual lips parted slightly as he stared right at me with those unnervingly perceptive blue eyes.
“Better?” he asked with a smug smile. I nodded curtly, already feeling the urge to argue with him returning. Fuck or fight, that’s what Preacher made me want to do. I wasn’t so sure I liked that.
“Tell me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, still feeling one hundred percent naked under the blankets. More than a hundred percent naked. A thousand percent naked.
He’s seen everything, I reminded myself. Felt everything. Tasted everything.
And just like that, I was blushing head to toe again.
“What?”
“The one who hurt you. Tell me what he did.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said defensively. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he countered. Ugh.
“Do I have to?” I groaned, sliding down my pillow. “I’d rather not.”
“Yes, you have to.”
“Why?” I asked, sounding like a child. Preacher made me feel that way, I realized. Young and foolish compared to his steady confidence. But he made me feel beautiful and special and desired too.
And he listened to me, whether I wanted him to or not.
Like right now, it was a definite not.
“There are a couple of reasons, but number one is that I need you to trust me.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “It’s time we started talking about the real stuff.”
“So, you’ll tell me why you’re angry with God?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Yes, darlin’. I will.”
I sighed and sat up, keeping the blankets tucked under my arms. I scooted back against the pillows and rested my head against the headboard.
“Zach was . . . everything I wasn’t. Popular. Gorgeous. Captain of the football team.” I sighed, then spilled everything. The awkward first few times we’d talked. How patient he had been with me. How he’d charmed me and my single mother—not an easy feat in and of itself.
Preacher listened, his focus entirely on me. He never wavered and he didn’t interrupt to ask questions. Not until I stopped talking.
“What did he do to you?”
I shivered at the scary look on Preacher’s face. He looked exactly like one of those guys in an old Western who was about to draw and shoot. I was flattered and a little scared at the same time.
But not for me. For Zach. Or anyone who messed with me.
Preacher was a protector, I realized. He would do anything to take care of the people he cared about. Apparently, I was on that list.
It felt nice. It was a little intimidating, but nice.
I tried to explain how it had felt to have a popular upperclassman pick me out of all the girls in our school. Lord knows, he could have had his pick. But for a couple of perfect years, I was the one he wanted.
Or I’d thought so, anyway.
“He chose me. Nobody expected it, least of all me. I was a few years behind him. A skinny little nothing.” Preacher raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t interrupt. I flushed. I wasn’t skinny anymore. But back then, I’d only had the beginning of my curves. “But he chose me. It was like being inside and you step outside and the sun shines on you. Only you.”
He nodded and I took a deep breath.
“He was so good to me. I fell in love with him. Completely and totally head over heels in love. I would have done anything for him. Except . . .” I trailed off, feeling silly for my insistence on staying a virgin. Sure, I had been young, but in retrospect, it kind of seemed like less of a big deal.
“Except?”
“I wasn’t ready to, you know.”
“Have sex?”
I nodded eagerly, glad he got it. I was even more relieved that I hadn’t had to say it. The whole story was humiliating enough.
“And he said he would wait. He did wait,” I clarified. “Just not as long as I needed him to.”
“He forced you?”
I could see actual blood in Preacher’s eyes. Not his blood. Zach’s.
His hands were balled into fists. To be honest, he looked more than a little bit scary.
No. Preacher looked lethal.
“No! He just kept being my boyfriend and found someone else to fulfill those . . . um, needs. My best friend, to be exact.”
“He slept with your best friend?”
“Yes. And I guess, other things? But he didn’t date her. He’d basically leave my doorstep and walk over to hers. It was more of a booty call situation.”
“Idiot,” Preacher sneered. “I would have waited for you.
”
“It was over two years, Preacher.”
“Doesn’t matter. I would have waited ten.”
My mouth opened. I shut it abruptly.
“Regretting last night?”
“No. I . . . no,” I said, suddenly flustered with the images of what we’d done together. Mostly what he’d done to me. Dirty, filthy things. Wonderful things.
Preacher things.
“When I finally caught on, I don’t know how long they’d been, you know, getting together, but he said it didn’t mean anything. That he still loved me and wanted to marry me. That she was just getting him off. He said it right in front of her.”
I lifted my eyes to Preacher.
“I almost felt sorry for her in that moment.”
“Don’t. She deserved it.”
I sighed.
“They both still . . . try. To make up with me.”
“He calls you?”
I nodded. Zach did call and text. I rarely responded. I didn’t hate him anymore. I just had nothing to say.
“That ends now,” he growled. “I don’t share.”
“Preacher! I’m not a toy,” I said, shocked that he was being so possessive. I thought this was a one and done thing. Clearly, he had other intentions.
I got a crazy feeling in my stomach at the realization. Part of it was worry. I hadn’t planned on getting into something with Preacher. Not even if it was purely sexual. The man was overwhelming, to say the least.
And certainly not what I’d had in mind when I imagined having a boyfriend. He was old and filthy—a degenerate, really. A criminal, definitely. But he was a lot of other things too.
Sexy, loyal, wonderful things.
He smiled at me, but not a friendly smile. It was dangerous. He grabbed the covers and pulled.
“You said you would tell me your story,” I protested.
“Later.”
Chapter Nineteen
Preacher
“Don’t move so much, sweetheart.”
Cynthia opened her beautiful mouth, and I kissed it, stopping the protest.
“And don’t tell me not to call you that. I’ve earned the right,” I added, smacking her hip. She was wiggling around the bed in anticipation of what she knew was coming next.
I turned my attention back to my work—turning Cynthia into a breakfast buffet.
“Do you want a flapjack, honey legs?”
She growled at me, sounding like a fuzzy little kitten. I chuckled and poured a little bit of syrup over the stack of mini pancakes between her legs. I dripped a little on the pancakes covering her chest too.
“You said we would talk last week, and we haven’t,” she grumbled as I fed her a bite of eggs and pancakes. I was feeding her too, but my meal was going to be a little more fun for both of us. “I need to get up soon.”
“Oh, this won’t take long, sugar britches.” I stared hungrily at her insanely beautiful body. Her golden skin tone contrasted with the white sheets, making every inch of her stand out.
Not that Miss Cynthia ever had an issue with getting my attention. In fact, for a full week, I’d been near or actually inside her almost constantly. I made allowances for work and schoolwork, but barely. Mostly, we just screwed.
“Hmm, you look good enough to eat.” I grinned. “Try not to squirm around too much. Could get messy.”
I dipped my head down and licked some syrup off her stomach. I let my fingers graze her thighs as I straddled her. Cynthia was wearing nothing. I was wearing jeans, but only because cooking pancakes with a bare skin boner was a very stupid idea.
There was no way I was taking a risk with my dick now that I’d found paradise. Not taking chances when I was riding, either. And despite my fears, Cynthia had yet to wise up that I was too old, too filthy, and too fucking crazy for her.
She seemed to like me just fine. Especially . . . right . . . now.
I dove in, chewing through those little pancakes like a wild beast foraging in the forest. Except I wasn’t after a little mouse. I wanted a kitty cat. I wanted that pussy.
My tongue searched through the crumbs and found her silky, sticky petals.
“Hmm,” I moaned as I stroked her up and down, teasing and tasting every inch of that glorious pussy. I’d tasted nirvana and this was it. I could do this for days.
But the seriously perfect girl spread out in front of me had other ideas.
“Preacher.” She sighed as her body arched off the bed, starting a series of shivers that spread through her whole body. I slid a finger inside her, lapping at that clit for all I was worth. I knew her orgasms by now. This was a gentle one. I wanted to build it into a giant wave.
I doubled down, using two fingers and sucking hard on her clit. That did it. Her orgasm grew and grew until she was thrashing around, her pussy clenching down on my fingers so hard it almost hurt.
Oh, yeah. Miss Cynthia was coming like a freight train.
I pulled back a little to enjoy the show.
Just enough to slip my cock inside her.
I grunted as her body worked me over, and my fingers snaked down to strum her clit and keep that orgasm going while the other hand held her thigh wide so I could get all the way inside her.
It was a good fucking thing I was ambidextrous.
I hissed my pleasure as her pussy squeezed me in undulating waves of ecstasy unlike anything I had ever known. Every time with Cynthia was like that. Beyond all expectations. Epic. Hell, the way my cock was feeling should have been physically impossible. It was like I’d grown new nerve endings.
Or . . . whatever she’d done to my heart had done something to my entire fucking body. I felt young again. Vigorous and virile. Not that I’d ever had any problems in that department, but this was off the charts.
Hell, there weren’t even any charts big enough for what was happening between us. The chemistry was more than off the chart. It was off the page, up the wall, through the roof, and all the way to the goddamn moon.
I cursed and started to move. I couldn’t wait. I had to fuck her now.
And I had to fuck her hard.
“Hold on tight, little girl,” I ordered, throwing her legs around me and bending down to pull one of her pointy little nipples into my mouth. She came even harder as I worked her tits, going back and forth and just slobbering all over her. There was nothing nice or neat about this. I was working on pure instinct, rutting with a sexy young thing like we were two wild creatures in heat. We were both sticky with sweat and syrup, her whimpering and me riding her like there was no tomorrow.
Part of me was afraid there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow with her . . . that there wouldn’t or couldn’t be a real future together. I treasured every fucking second with Cynthia like it was my last. If she ever woke up and realized she was a gorgeous young lady in bed with a filthy old dog, I didn’t know what the hell I would do.
Drink a case of tequila, walk into the Pacific Ocean, and never come out again, most likely.
The truth was, she had seemed surprised every single time I walked her home and followed her up the stairs like a dog looking to bury his bone. She’d tried to protest about it being a ‘one-time thing’ early on, but I’d quickly put a stop to that. Thankfully, I knew how to play her glorious body like a well-tuned fiddle. She hadn’t really stood a chance.
All these thoughts flew through my head as my body took over and went into overdrive. Cynthia may have drained my balls multiple times the night before, but I wasn’t going to last long. The feeling of her silky tightness wrapped around me was too much.
I ground my teeth to stop myself from saying it. It was too fucking soon and she was too fucking perfect. I couldn’t risk scaring her off by saying the three little words I’d never said to a woman before.
And every time I came, I fucking wanted to. I really fucking wanted to.
I love you.
I fucking love you.
I love you so much it scares the ever loving shit out of me, and that makes me love you
even more.
Instead, I grunted like a wild animal as my seed shot up and through my shaft. Her body welcomed me, coming with me as usual, tugging hard on my tip to get every last drop.
And by God, she did. The good Lord only knew, she’d earned it.
The big guy was definitely in my good graces these days. After all, he’d made her. And somehow, he’d made her like me enough to let me do unbelievably filthy things to her.
I owe you one, I thought as I shook from head to toe.
“My God, woman,” I groaned, careful not to crush her as my body found release. I was utterly content and at peace in that moment. I knew in a few minutes, the doubts would creep in. The worries that I wasn’t good enough. That she would put an end to this. That I’d be stuck here, wanting her and worried about Paul for months or even years without any release.
But for now? In this one perfect moment? All was right in the world.
Chapter Twenty
Cynthia
I grimaced as my inbox loaded. I was so behind it was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. Irresponsible. The kind of thing my mama would spank my butt for, God rest her soul.
She’d suddenly passed away a few years ago. I forgot sometimes that she was gone. I’d be busy at work or school and be thinking about what she would say or do and then realize . . . I’d never get the chance to know again. Her diabetes had been regulated, but it had taken a toll on her heart. One day, she woke up not feeling great, then just like that, it was over.
I had felt so lost and alone. But Rev. Paul had stepped in, helping me go through the paperwork and take over the household finances. That was the day he’d given me a job, too.
A job I was slacking at, for the first time ever. Mama would not be amused.
I could hear her voice in my head, and that was something I was more than grateful for. She was like my own internal compass.
And right now, that compass was pointing to a big ol’ nope.
Get your ass moving, or I will smack it.
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