Preacher

by Blake, Joanna

  Mama and Preacher had a lot in common in that regard.

  Usually, I dealt with church and school stuff immediately, checking my email multiple times throughout the day and answering each message as it came in. I did my homework the day or night it was assigned.

  A rolling stone gathers no moss, and neither did I.

  Plus, being busy kept the loneliness away.

  Until Preacher.

  He is definitely not a good influence on me, I grumbled to myself. I didn’t have to wonder what my mother would think. She would like Preacher well enough when she got to know him, but for her daughter? I doubted she would approve.

  Then again, she hadn’t much liked Zach, either.

  I sighed deeply, scrolling down two pages to see what I’d missed. I’d been distracted all week by . . . well, sex.

  SO much sex.

  I sighed again, feeling oddly contented. Preacher had taken me by surprise in so many ways. He was tender, for one thing. His passion for me was always intense, but it wasn’t always rough. There was a sweetness about the man that surprised me. He was protective, but I’d known that. Of course, now that he considered me ‘his’, that had gone to an extreme.

  He insisted on walking me both ways to work, taking me to my two classes each week, and arming my apartment with high-tech alarms sent by a friend. He’d muttered something about motion sensors and lights for the block as well, but it hadn’t happened yet. I wasn’t so sure the neighborhood wanted huge lights that went off whenever a stray cat jumped off a trashcan, either.

  He’d tricked out the parsonage as well, getting a new bed for one of the smaller bedrooms for the nights I slept over and putting in security there as well.

  Sleeping at the parsonage was a whole other kettle of fish.

  So far, no one had seen me coming or going, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I still had no idea what I was doing. What we were doing. How well we worked together when we weren’t fighting seemed to defy all odds. Plus, I couldn’t seem to resist the man, rough around the edges as he was.

  Lately, something was going on with him and I didn’t know what it was. He insisted on hearing all about me and my life, but when I asked about his, he was still close-lipped and quiet. He’d quickly turn to distracting me with food or sex. Sometimes at the same time, I thought, blushing at the memory of the pancakes.

  Mostly sex.

  I knew Preacher was happy when he was with me. He told me so. But whenever I caught sight of him at the church, he looked worried.

  Especially when he didn’t know I was looking.

  “Any news about Paul?”

  Clarice was standing in the doorway, nearly filling it with her six-foot frame. The fact that she also loved platform shoes just added to the effect. Today, she was wearing a silver and gold lurex dress that looked like it was straight out of Studio 54.

  In fact, it probably was, knowing Clarice. She had what could only be described as an ‘eBay addiction’. I was more of an Etsy girl myself. Every Christmas, I headed over there. I felt a lot better about spending money when it went to craftspeople and small businesses.

  Not that I was a big spender, by any means. I pretty much wore the same stuff I had in high school, though Clarice dragged me to secondhand stores on the regular. So I had some shirts and sweaters from there.

  Clarice had taught me years ago that the trick was to wash everything in Borax and vinegar. It killed mold and left everything smelling clean, not artificial.

  I sighed, forcing myself to focus on her question. It was the same question I had. The same question that I was trying to distract myself from every single day since the Reverend had left.

  “No, but Preacher’s friends said they have a lead. They won’t say anything else.”

  “I hope he’s okay. I’m scared for him, Cynth.”

  “Me too.”

  She sighed and shook her head as if shaking off her worries. It was a special skill she had. One that I envied.

  A feline expression came over her face. She arched a perfectly plucked brow and gave me a look. I watched in admiration as she cocked one hip and placed one exquisitely manicured hand on it.

  “What’s going on with you and the big guy, hmm?”

  My eyes got wide. My mouth dried up. I was definitely not ready to answer questions about Preacher.

  “Who?”

  “Oh puh-lease, girl. I have eyes. I can see.”

  “We’re . . . um . . .”

  “Fucking each other’s brains out at every possible moment?”

  I turned beet red. That was pretty much what was happening. I hadn’t told her about Preacher yet. I knew that was a pretty big faux pas in best friend code.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It just . . . happened so fast. It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “Oh, child, you must tell me everything,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite mine. “How is he? Isn’t he your first? Is he big?”

  “Surprising, yes, and none of your business.”

  She clutched her invisible pearls and feigned offense.

  “You won’t tell me? Your best friend? I must know if that man is hung like a horse.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Does that mean you’ve kissed it? A mouthful?”

  I frowned. Actually, I hadn’t. I wanted to try, but Preacher wouldn’t let me.

  “What does surprising mean?”

  I sighed, grateful for the change of topic.

  “He’s much gentler than I would have imagined. Thoughtful. And the way he makes me feel . . .”

  “Yesss,” she purred, leaning in.

  “It’s so much more than I ever imagined sex would be.”

  She clapped her hands together.

  “I’m so glad you finally gave in! The man was drooling over you for long enough! From day one. No, from minute one!”

  Preacher chose that moment to enter the office. I tried to shush Clarice, but she was on a roll.

  “You needed a real man, not like those boys you grew up with. Someone strong but kind. Someone to lift you up and get you down in the dirt. Someone” —she took a dramatic pause— “to fuck the shit out of you.”

  I slid down in my chair, covering my face. I peeked between my fingers and saw Clarice notice the hulking man standing behind her. From the look on her face, I had a feeling she had known he was there all along.

  Remind me to strangle you later, I said with my eyes.

  “Oh, hello there, Preacher.”

  He grinned at her and gave me a wink.

  “Good morning, ladies. No yoga today?”

  “Yoga is Wednesdays and Saturdays. Today, we have Pilates. That’s if I can tear Miss Thing away from her . . . work,” Clarice said meaningfully.

  “I’m sure we can spare her for an hour.”

  “Forty-five minutes,” I piped up, still looking everywhere but at him. “But I have a lot to do.”

  “You should go. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Um . . . okay,” I said, still not looking at him.

  I heard him chuckle and those big boots walk across the room into his office. Only then did I look up. Clarice was staring at me.

  “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “You do have it bad.”

  I grabbed my bag, deciding my inbox could wait, as well as any awkward conversation with Preacher about what he’d overheard. I knew he wanted to talk about the future, but I’d put him off. Just like he kept putting off talking about his past.

  Two could play that game, after all.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Preacher

  “How was Pilates? Did you learn any new positions?”

  I’d tried. I’d done my best to leave her be. But watching Cynthia try and avoid my gaze and pretend to work was just too tempting. I had to tease her about it.

  I had a couple of other things I wanted to do on my mind, too.

  “Stop t
easing,” she said, but there was a cute little twist to her lips. “I have work to do. Somebody has been distracting me lately.”

  “It’s almost lunchtime. Who says I’m teasing?” I leaned on the doorjamb between our offices. “I always put out for you.”

  She stifled a laugh, looking this way and that. Like people weren’t noticing that she was my woman. Like the way I acted around her left any doubt.

  Hell, I wanted to put a sign up.

  I wanted more than that.

  I wanted her wearing my ring.

  So far, she kept evading the subject. I wanted to be on the same page. Because as far as I was concerned, Cynthia was mine forever.

  The sooner she accepted and understood that, the better.

  It was worrying me, truth be told. I had never fussed like this about anything. I was a black and white sort of man. Live and let live.

  Except that I wanted her under lock and key. So to speak, anyway.

  Not literally, like Connor had done to sweet little Cass. That method did have its merits. I rubbed my chin, considering. I shook my head. Locking up the lady who kept this place running was not an option. Not yet, anyway.

  But for now, a little horizontal action during lunch was just what the doctor ordered. Literally. Doc, from the Hell Raisers, was my own personal physician. The man prescribed tequila, pot, and pussy for just about everything. He wasn’t a big believer in antibiotics or pain meds, and somehow, he kept the wheels turning and the bikers under his care alive and kicking.

  I smirked, imagining what might be going on back home. The Untouchables and the Hell Raisers were in flux. Shane was more of an Untouchable now, but the Raisers still considered him their leader. At some point soon, the Raisers were going to need a new Prez.

  I had some thoughts about that, too.

  “I just took a break for class! Don’t you want me to get any work done?”

  “I have a job for you. Over at the parsonage,” I said suggestively.

  She bit her lip and kept typing. I stalked over and stood beside her, trying to will her to stand up. She kept typing. I leaned down and blew on her neck, taking a little bite. I could see that her nipples instantly hardened. I reached down to tweak one.

  Fuck, and now my cock is hard as a rock, too.

  “Preacher!”

  “Preacher!”

  I nearly dragged her out from behind her desk for a kiss, deciding I’d toss her over that desk and bury my face between her thighs. I wanted lunch, but only if her sweet pussy was on the menu.

  Yes, that sounds mighty tempting right about now.

  “Come on, hellcat. I promise I will let you work after.”

  “Okay,” she said shyly. “I’ll see you in five.”

  Well, hot damn. I was going to get a nooner. I grinned and started whistling as I headed over. I threw a fresh sheet over the couch and fished around in the fridge to see if I could offer the lady anything to eat after I’d eaten her.

  A tentative knock on the door only made me smile wider. Three steps and I was there, pulling her inside and pushing her up against the door to kiss her. My hands were all over her, possessively squeezing and claiming her curves. My tongue plunged in and out of her mouth, mimicking the action I was really after.

  I wanted in. Now.

  “Wait,” she said breathlessly as I started tugging at her jeans.

  “What,” I growled impatiently. I did not want to wait.

  “I want to . . . try something.”

  I stared at her. Did she mean . . . something dirty?

  “Let me. Please?”

  I nodded. What else could I do? The most beautiful girl in the world wanted to experiment on me. I would be a fool to say no.

  And my mother did not raise any fools.

  “You promise not to stop me?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said gruffly. And I would. Even if she wanted to tweeze the hairs off my balls. I’d fucking stand there and take it.

  I would do anything for her, didn’t she know that?

  “Good,” she said with a secret smile. And then she lowered herself to her knees.

  Oh. Fuck.

  Lord, please give me strength, I prayed fervently as she fumbled with my pants. She was nervous, I could tell. I knew she’d never done this before. But she was nowhere near as nervous as I was.

  I was afraid I was going to pop before she even started sucking.

  I looked down to watch as she tugged my already hard cock out of my jeans. She licked her lips, staring at the shaft in her hand. And then she leaned forward and licked it.

  And I nearly came right then and there.

  “Holy hell,” I breathed, my head falling back against the wall. Cynthia started to tease me—no, to torture me—slowly kissing and nibbling her way up and down my cock. I wasn’t sure if she thought that’s what a blowjob was or if this was her trying things out, and I didn’t much care. It felt fucking amazing.

  Holy fucking hell, that feels so much better than it should. It feels better than almost anything I’ve felt in my life. Other than her sweet little pussy or ass, of course.

  I huffed through my lips as my hands found her hair. I resisted the urge to push her head down on my cock. She was exploring my body and was on the verge of stealing what was left of my sanity. And from the cute little sounds she was making, she was pretty damned pleased with herself too.

  Oh, yeah, my lady was enjoying this way more than I could have imagined.

  I cracked open one eye and nearly erupted. My sweet little Cynthia was smiling as she gobbled my knob. She was having fun.

  Who was I to rain on her parade? Even if it killed me, I’d let her work her pretty little mouth all over me, not fast enough to get me there and not slow enough for me to back away from the brink.

  Yeah, the guys on Game of Thrones had nothing on my Cynthia. All you needed was a never-ending virgin blow job from the world’s most beautiful girl and anyone would crack. It wouldn’t take weeks to turn a man to emotional mush. It would take minutes.

  And then she pulled my cock into her pretty little mouth and sucked. Hard. I stared at her head as she started bobbing it slowly up and down my cock. That was it. That was enough to seal the deal.

  “Fuck. I’m gonna come. I want to . . . come inside you.”

  She made a little noise that sounded an awful lot like ‘no.’

  “Listen, little girl, I don’t think you are—oh, Christ! You are not ready for what is about to happen,” I ground out, trying to stop myself from throwing her over the 1950s kitchen table and screwing her six ways from Sunday.

  Of course, the rational part of my brain knew I wouldn’t get anywhere near the table. I was about to blow and it was going to be big. Yellowstone geyser big.

  Cynthia started humming.

  I knew she was trying to talk around my dick, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt like a thousand tiny vibrations that shot right down to the root of my cock. Everything turned white and my body convulsed. My legs were shaking as my seed pumped right into her gorgeous mouth.

  And she swallowed it. She swallowed it all, God bless her. I gripped her head, unable to control myself anymore. Hell, I was barely standing. It felt like my tailbone was a goddamn lighting rod in the middle of a hurricane.

  “Fuck.” I groaned helplessly as she kept on sucking until the last drop was gone. Then she swirled her tongue over the tip. “Baby girl . . .”

  I wanted to hold her head there and make her keep doing what she was doing. I also wanted to push her away because I knew I had zero control over what might come out of my mouth. Those words were hovering there again. The words I’d never said to a woman other than my ma and little sister.

  And then I decided, fuck it. Why was I holding back? The woman was down there, sending bolts of pure ecstasy through my body, making me hard again. She was perfect. I fucking loved the hell out of her and she deserved to know.

  But not like this.

  I gripped her shoulders and pulled her
up to face me. She licked her lips and my cock jumped, already at full mast again. I held her face and brushed her hair away so I could see her eyes when I said it.

  “I love you. I fucking love you so fucking much.”

  My voice was rough. Raw with emotions. Her eyes got wide with surprise.

  “Guess you weren’t expecting me to say that,” I said tenderly. And then I scooped her up and carried her to the couch. I wanted to have her. But more than that, I wanted to show her how I felt with my hands and mouth.

  She didn’t need to say it back. Not yet. But she would. I would get her on lockdown. Soon.

  I peeled off my jacket and got to work on her clothes, tugging her shoes and jeans off, then getting distracted by those plain white panties she wore. My girl was not fancy. But she didn’t need to be. She was so insanely gorgeous that it would have been like stringing diamonds on the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Diamonds were nice, sure, but you wouldn’t even notice them.

  Just like my girl, the tree was enough on its own.

  Hell, she could be wearing a bikini made out of platinum—no, titanium—and I’d find a way to tear it off with my teeth.

  I doubted I would even notice anything other than her.

  My mouth found those panties, too eager to even wait. I couldn’t be bothered to pull them off or take off the rest of her clothes. I tongued her through the thin cotton then pushed the fabric aside so I could feast on her perfect petals.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” I growled. “Lift your hips. Give me that pussy.”

  Bless her heart, she did as I asked.

  I grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and went to town. I had no finesse this time. No control. Yeah, I may have just come, but I was just as wild for her as I’d been before.

  Maybe even a little bit more.

  “Fuck, I can’t wait to get my cock inside that pussy,” I growled as I used a finger to strum her clit. She came almost immediately. I didn’t stop my finger as I yanked my cock up and put it just inside her. “So good,” I moaned as I slid home.