Sinner (Priest Book 3)

by Sierra Simone

  I’m shaking because—wait.

  Wait.

  Am I in love with Zenny?

  The idea stuns me even as the truth of it thrums down to my bones, and it floods every part of me as we kiss again, as she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me close. I love her. I love Zenobia Iverson, and maybe I have since the moment she knocked on my door, asking me to make her doubt. Since our first kiss, even. Or the night at the gala, when I met her as an adult and red silk kissed her skin in all the ways I couldn’t.

  “Teach me now,” she breathes, oblivious to the earth-shattering awakening I’m having, oblivious to the real source of my trembling. “Do the thing where you teach me?”

  I move my lips away from her mouth and kiss her ear. “Is that how you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” she says. “It makes me feel…special. Safe.”

  And how can I argue with that?

  I yank at my bow tie as I rise up on my knees, unknotting it and shucking my jacket. I’m in the middle of unbuttoning my shirt when she gives a little whine.

  “What is it, baby?”

  She bites her lip and then says, “We’re going to have lots of sex, right?”

  “Lots and lots.”

  “Then save all the tenderly undressing parts for later. I want you to fuck me now.” She sounds a little grouchy, and I have to laugh.

  “Such a demanding little virgin,” I murmur, leaning down to nip at her jaw. “I thought I was supposed to be the teacher here, hmm?”

  “As long as you teach me fast,” she says huffily. And after I untie the dress’s halter at the back of her neck, I rise up to look down at her. Her skirt is a puddle of blue-green around her hips, her thighs are spread revealing a wet and kiss-swollen pussy. The bodice of her dress is now drooping off her chest, revealing her upthrust breasts with their furled, needy tips. A demanding little virgin, indeed, all the traces of nervousness now melted away and leaving only unselfconscious desire in its wake.

  I let my hand drift over her tummy and find a place holding her hip still as my other hand goes to my fly. Pinning her like this as I one-handedly get my cock out feels filthy, on just this side of wrong, and judging from the way she squirms and chews on her lip as she stares at my hand working open my pants, she feels the same.

  The breath she lets out once it’s free actually eclipses my own, as if she felt the discomfort of my trapped arousal as acutely as I did, and then I take her hand and guide her to me, guide her into handling and stroking me. I grunt with pleasure at her still-uncertain handling of my cock.

  “You feel how hard it is, baby?” I ask. “It’s like that for you.”

  She makes a low purr of satisfaction, her eyes not on my face but on the crude thickness of my erection in her hand.

  “Here,” I say, taking her hand and wrapping it around the head of my cock. “This is where I’ll start. Just with the tip of me. I’ll find where you’re wet and tight, and I’ll begin to push in. It’ll feel big, Zenny, so big at first, like I’ll split you open, and just when you think you can’t do it, I’ll push in a little bit more.” I circle my hand over hers and push it down, just a little, so that she’s gripping me around my shaft just under my tip. “I’ll be stretching you to take me, and I’ll be petting you and rubbing you the entire time so that the stretch feels good, it feels like what you need.”

  “And then?” she asks in a whisper, looking up at my face.

  I guide her hand all the way down to my root. “And then I’ll be all the way inside you. And it will feel so good, baby, so full, full like you’ve never felt. Then I’ll start to move, start to slide—” I coax her hand into mimicking the motion. “—that’s when I’ll be thrusting. That’s how we’ll fuck.”

  “Yes,” she says, looking a little dazed and a lot excited. “That’s how we’ll fuck.”

  I lean over to my end table and fish out a condom, handing the packet to her once I have it, patiently waiting as she fumbles to get it open.

  “This way,” I say kindly, showing her how to start it with the pinch and the roll, and then letting go and allowing her to roll it all the way on. Seeing her like this, eager and clumsy, is painfully arousing, and I find myself breathing in deep, shaky breaths to keep from tackling her and fucking her bare. I’ve never fucked a woman bare, and it’s never been something that I’ve thought much about before, but God, the image of my naked cock pushing into that sweet, tight cunt…

  Fuck. I want it. I want it and I’ll never be able to have it.

  “There,” Zenny says, sitting back and admiring my shining, sheathed penis. She looks proud of her handiwork, and it’s really quite charming. She’s sitting in a pool of unbound chiffon, mussed and well-pleasured, and she’s looking at my erection like a term project she’s just gotten a good grade on.

  “Such a good student,” I praise. “Such a good girl.”

  She looks pleased.

  “It’s time, sweetheart. Lay back.”

  And she does, spreading her legs without me telling her, and I praise her for that too, for being so smart, for being so perfect. I lean forward and tuck a pillow under her head, and then I give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Watch,” I tell her, and with the pillow behind her head, she can and she does. She watches as I kneel between her legs, as I brace myself over her, my loose bowtie dangling between us. I should tear it off, but both my hands are occupied and I honestly can’t bring myself to care right now.

  I’m about to fuck the woman I love, and that’s all I can ever care about.

  I take myself in hand and caress her entrance with my cock. The head of me is blunt and fat and wide, and much, much bigger than the tiny seam it’s currently rubbing against, and she stiffens the moment I make contact, the moment she feels for herself exactly how big the cock is that wants inside her pussy.

  And so I lean down and croon in her ear about how brave she is to take me, how sexy she is, how good I’ll make her little cunt feel if she’ll let me. And as I say all this, I keep pressing and rubbing and gently pushing until finally, finally, my tip squeezes inside of her.

  She arches underneath me, letting out a stung noise, and I’m letting out the same noise, because it’s so tight, God help me, it’s so tight. I’m only barely inside her, and already I can feel my groin clenching hot and deep with the need to release.

  “Stay with me,” I murmur, dropping my forehead to hers. “Stay with me.”

  She nods underneath me, her hands coming up to lace around my neck in a gesture that conveys pure, unsullied trust. Trust I don’t deserve, but I’ll do everything not to betray.

  “It’s going to pinch,” I tell her. “But it shouldn’t hurt, because you’re nice and wet and ready for me. But if it does hurt, tell me and I’ll fix it.”

  She nods again. “Okay. I—” she gives the most tentative of movements with her hips, and I nearly come from that alone. “It feels better now. Put more inside me.”

  I lift my head so that she can lift hers and continue to watch as I push in another inch. The stretch of her around my cock is the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen and also the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt, and then I give her another inch. “You’re so tight here,” I mutter, and I can feel sweat starting to bead along the muscled furrows of my back and stomach. My bracing arm is trembling—my entire body is trembling, actually—with restraint.

  “You’re shaking again,” she says.

  “It’s because of you.”

  This earns me a kiss. “More,” she commands, like a little queen.

  “Darling, I’m going to have to push,” I say, my voice as shivery as my body right now. “It’s so fucking tight, I can’t—”

  “More,” she says impatiently, and so I press my hips forward and slide in deeper, regretting every bit of force it takes to wedge in deeper.

  She’s been watching me as I feed my cock into her pussy, but with this last thrust, she falls back, her eyes squeezing closed.

  I freeze. “Zenny?”

&nb
sp; “It doesn’t hurt…exactly,” she assures me, eyes still closed. Except her words aren’t very reassuring. I start to withdraw and her hands fly from my neck to my hips.

  “No,” she begs. “Stay. Keep going. I’m breathing through it and…oh.” This last comes as I rock in and out the tiniest bit, giving her a little taste of what it will be like when I fuck her in truth.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she says again, but this time her words have a faint wonder to them. “It feels good.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Halfway there, baby,” I soothe her. “Halfway there.”

  I look down at where we’re joined myself and groan. Fuck me, but she’s tight, and the stark visual of my thickness spearing her virgin pussy is nearly too much. It’s only the barest shred of my control that keeps me from piercing the rest of the way home in one, sure thrust. Instead, I go slowly, agonizingly slowly, until finally at last, I’m all the way inside. I’m finally able to let go of my cock, and I brace myself on my elbows so that I can cradle her face in my hands.

  “How are you doing?” I ask her, searching her face. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she says, and her hands move to pet at my stomach and chest. “Very yes.”

  “I’m going to start moving now, and I’m going to play with your cunt as I do. We’re going to go slowly at first.”

  And that’s how we begin for real—in slow, succulent movements, with her running her fingers along my abs and me braced on one arm by her head, my other hand splayed near her hip and my thumb working soft circles around her clit. And I’m murmuring more teacher words to her, telling her how good she is, how clever and how curious, telling her to move her hips or to hug my waist with her thighs. It takes all I have to be a teacher right now, all of my threadbare control, because she’s fitting me like a tight, hot glove, she’s so wet and everywhere she is so beautiful, so perfect, so Zenny. Even the tangle of chiffon around her hips is her, even the unpracticed catch of her heels on the bed. I love her and I’m fucking her, and I see now why she used those words earlier, make love, because that’s what this is. It’s still dirty, it’s still raw—I’m still gloating over the way her virgin cunt feels on my cock, I’m still biting at her breasts like an animal—but how I feel about her is a shimmering, golden thread through it all. It’s electric, sizzling everywhere, ionizing everything, transforming everything into something more than just biology.

  I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it. I don’t understand myself, even.

  I only understand that I love her.

  “Sean,” she moans, and her head is flung back again, but this time not in pain, definitely not in pain. “I’m going to come again, oh God, oh my God—”

  With a cry, she buckles and seizes around me, going so tight and so delicious, and the difference in this orgasm from her first is stunning, momentous, like it’s eating her alive and she can’t get enough of it. Her cries echo through the room, and she writhes and twists under my body, even as I keep her pinned in place with my hands and my hips. Impaled on my dick, she squirms and whimpers her way through it, finishing at last with an almighty shudder, and the sensation is so carnal, so vulgar, to have another person use you so baldly for their pleasure—and then for that person to be a gorgeous virgin who currently looks stunned, as if she never knew something could feel so good, as good as your cock inside her—

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble, because I’m coming, I’m going to come while I’m in her pussy, and I can’t, I promised her I wouldn’t, and I slide out of her cunt just in time. We both watch in crude, animalistic interest as my cock juts glistening and heavy between us, and then with several vicious throbs, fills the condom.

  “Oh my God,” she breathes, “Sean, oh my God,” and then her hands are all over me as I finish grunting and pulsing my way through it, the condom finally full and my body drained.

  “Shit,” I say again, but it’s probably the most reverently that word has ever been uttered.

  Then my demanding newly-not-virgin sits up and says, “I want to do it again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I’m amused at her eagerness, but I’m an unmoving wall of aftercare, which earns me a charming little tantrum.

  “I’ll fuck you every time you ask me,” I promise. “But I need to make sure you’re doing okay first.”

  “I’m okay,” she pouts. “Now come over here and do it again.”

  I’m over at the bathroom door; I’ve just finished with the condom, and also with a ten-second staring session in the mirror where I stared at the face of a man who’s in love.

  I’ve never been in love before.

  It’s gutting and disorienting and dizzying—and joyful. Like a roller coaster careening wildly around corners, like a car punching into top gear as the highway streaks away underneath you. Like standing in a prairie summer storm—the blowing rain soaking your skin, lightning sawing across the sky, the wind a part of a song that you knew a long time ago but have since forgotten.

  It’s too soon, but I love her.

  She’s Elijah’s little sister and much too young for me, and she only wants me for sex, but I love her.

  And she’s going to leave me for her God, but I love her.

  I go back to the bed, and I undress her, I undress myself. I make us shower, flicking water at her from the spray while she stands just outside pulling on her shower cap and wrinkling her cute little nose at me. I spend a long time washing and soaping and massaging her, petting her and spoiling her and telling her how much I want her, how grateful I am, how perfect she is.

  I don’t say that I love her. Not because I doubt it, not because it’s new, but because I honestly think it might spook her given her reaction to my there are no other women I care about like this comment the other day. I don’t want to scare her away, not when I’ve just gotten her, and also—is it even fair for me to tell her this? She didn’t explicitly say and we can’t fall in love when we were negotiating our arrangement, but I’d felt it in the air nonetheless, hanging like a heavy fog.

  I don’t think she wants that from me.

  And it might even be cruel to burden her with it in the looming face of her vows.

  So I stay silent about that part, and after we’re toweled off, I spend another long time rubbing her with lotion and she rubs me with her lotion so that I smell like roses and I don’t even care. I want to smell like her always, I want to carry roses with me wherever I go. And I use the lotion as an excuse to check the bite marks on her breasts, to gently test her clit for soreness. I’m hard, and I’d love nothing more than to burrow inside her soft heat once again, but I refuse to hurt her. I couldn’t stand it if I hurt her.

  But gradually she convinces me that she’s not sore, not hurting, and we go again, completely naked this time. She wants to try being on top, and she pierces herself on my offered-up cock in a slow, anguished slide. She’s shaking as she sinks home, and I murmur reassuring words to her, run gentling hands over her flanks and hips. I tell her how hot she is like this, perched above me like a goddess, how sweet her tits look, how hard it makes me to see her pussy stretched around my base, as if I barely fit. I do barely fit, and the thought is inflamingly coarse, sinfully vulgar.

  So of course I share that with her too.

  She rides herself to a whimpering, shaking orgasm—one I endure marginally more stoically than the last time—and when she’s finished, I make to pull off the condom.

  “No,” she insists, dismounting me as if I were her steed, her stallion.

  (God, that thought shouldn’t be as erotic as it is, but fuck me, I can’t help it.)

  She puts her hand on my wrist. “Come in the condom again,” she says, her eyes gleaming in the dark. “I like to watch it.”

  “Your wish is my command,” I whisper, and as she kneels next to me, my little anthropologist once more, I wrap my hand around my Zenny-wet cock and jerk off.

  Strictly speaking, jerking off through a co
ndom is not something I’d normally enjoy, but it doesn’t matter now. With Zenny next to me, her perfect tits hanging forward as she leans in for a better view, and her lovely, fascinated face in profile with her button nose and long eyelashes, it doesn’t take much. I only need to pull on myself a handful of times before my erection swells inside the condom and starts pumping out my release.

  It’s raw somehow, raw and almost unclean feeling—which is surprising given that it’s perhaps the cleanest sex act one can perform—but it’s something about how it traps my cock inside its own leavings, something about how much it puts my grunting, rough release on display.

  It’s enough to make a man hard again.

  Which is how we end up having sex a third time, this time tangled together on our sides, one of her legs over my hip and my arms tight around her. It’s slow and languorous and when she comes, it’s nearly silent: a caught breath and then the telltale contractions on my dick.

  I jack off a final time—yes, into a condom once again, I really can’t refuse Zenny anything—and we clean up and crawl into bed like two tired children coming home from a theme park. Exhausted physically, exuberant mentally, sleep a fuzzy, earned embrace waiting for us the moment we close our eyes.

  “Thank you,” Zenny murmurs, tucking herself into me. “It was everything I wanted. More than I could have wanted.”

  “No, thank you, darling.”

  And I almost don’t ask, because the night has ended so perfectly, so sweetly, but I have to. “Zenny, what happened with Northcutt today?”

  She yawns, and I relax the tiniest bit because I don’t think she’d yawn if something terrible had happened. “He met with me and the Reverend Mother, tried to convince us to issue a follow-up statement to the news outlets that Valdman and Associates has been nothing but helpful, it was all a misunderstanding, yada yada. We said no.”

  Relief rolls over me at the same time as delight. “You told him no? Just like that?”

  “Well, the Reverend Mother did. And he started to be shitty and then she asked him to leave her office and he did. She’s very intimidating when she wants to be.”