Preacher Man

by Kane, Jessa

  Christ.

  I go down on my knees beside the pool and brace her shoulders with my right hand. “Take a deep breath, Mila,” I rasp, devouring the sight of her peaked nipples, the burnished gold of her eyes which are locked on me, the hollow of her throat where her pulse beats at a quick tempo. When she complies with an inhale, I lower her backwards until her head is submerged. I don’t like her being deprived of oxygen for even a moment, though, and lift her back up right away, murmuring the correct scripture, even as my mouth waters over the moisture dripping down her neck, soaking the see-through slip and leaving her essentially naked before me.

  I can see everything. Every inch of her perfection.

  My pants are a torture device, restraining my pounding dick. If we were alone in this church, I would already be shoving myself balls deep inside her cunt, telling her to hold still, little girl.

  She has no idea what beast she tempts.

  Or does she?

  Time seems to move in slow motion as Mila’s attention drops to the arousal at the juncture of my thighs and I watch with growing shock as her pupils dilate and she squeezes her legs together. She worries her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me with worried eyes. “The baptism didn’t work,” she whispers. “I still have the devil inside me, preacher.”

  A fist tightens around my throat. “Who told you the devil lives inside you?”

  The thin strap of her slip falls down, revealing the swell of her right breast and just a hint of her nipple. “My mama. And now I know it’s true, because I-I…”

  We’ve been whispering entirely too long and the congregation is eerily silent behind me, but I can’t look away from her gorgeous face. “Because why?”

  She draws her knees up to her chest. “I still want you to touch me.” Her eyelids flutter. “All over, everywhere. I…love tempting you to do it, even though you’ve chosen a path of righteousness. I’m sorry, preacher. I don’t know how to stop.” She bows her head. “I should have hung a curtain over my window and freed you of the devil’s hold.”

  My breath freezes in my lungs. “You know I’ve been watching you?”

  Mila nods slowly.

  “You’ve been putting that show on…for me?” I growl.

  Shame flames in her face. “Yes.”

  Jesus. Christ. Mila is still very obviously innocent of men, but my fears that she’d be disgusted—or worse, terrified—by what I want to do to her appear to have been wrong. She’s back to looking at my hard cock and writhing her hips in the water. My little girl is horny. For me. I have no choice but to make her mine now.

  YES. I MUST.

  As soon as that fact solidifies in my head, my lust hits a crescendo and I can feel my past self leapfrogging my present. For a year, I haven’t touched a drink or inflicted violence. Women became a thing of the past the moment I laid eyes on Mila and she became the sole object of my starvation. Perhaps depriving myself of all my vices is the reason I’m suddenly rife with need so strong, I have to grit my teeth from the pain and pressure between my legs.

  Mila obviously interprets my pained expression for irritation and starts to stand, but I catch her shoulders and keep her in a seated position. “Don’t get up yet.” I take off my black, waist-length jacket and hold it up, blocking her from the congregation. As soon as Mila stands, I wrap it around her near-nakedness and scoop her up, cradling her in my arms. “God’s children,” I say, turning to address the rapt audience. “It appears one our flock has been deeply affected by this holy ritual. The Lord has chosen her as a direct channel for His grace this morning. Please allow me some time to counsel her and make sense of this gift she’s been given. We will resume the service shortly.”

  I only catch a glimpse of Mila’s mother’s correctly suspicious expression before I turn and stride off stage, hooking a right into one of the back offices. Confused voices rise in the church behind us, growing louder, but I don’t give a shit what they think. I need to be alone with Mila. I need to get my fucking hands on her.

  And that total disregard for the consequences is dangerous.

  With my breath rattling in my ears, I set Mila on her feet inside my office, close the door and strip the coat away, tossing it aside. She starts to cover her nakedness until she gets a good look at my face. Whatever she sees there causes her to arch her back and present her wet, little tits to me. “You have the devil, too,” she breathes. “Don’t you, preacher?”

  I grasp her chin and lift it. “Several of them,” I say, backing her up against the door and finally, finally pressing our bodies together. Groaning. “You, however, don’t have a single one. You’re sweet and precious in every way.”

  Her golden eyes melt and this is exactly how I’ve been dreaming of her looking up at me. Like I’m her number one hero. The man in her life who makes everything better. “But I make that part between your legs hard,” she whispers. “And I like doing it.” A blush stains her cheeks. “I like rolling around on my bed knowing you can see me.”

  A warm trickle of come shoots out of my cock and slides down my inner thigh. “That’s because your body needs mine, little girl. That’s perfectly natural.”

  A moan leaves Mila and she sways. “I like when you call me that.”

  I press our foreheads together and peel down the straps of her slip, baring her pretty, pink-tipped tits. Palming them gently. “Little girl.”

  She shudders almost violently and I have no choice but to snare her mouth in a kiss. It’s meant to cherish, to soothe, to reassure Mila that there isn’t a single evil thing about her. But her taste is a shot of adrenaline to my system. My entire being recognizes the female it has been hungering for and responds, my dick swelling to the point of agony, my tongue licking into her mouth and devouring. Before I know my own intentions, I’m gripping her juicy, little ass cheeks, lifting her up and flattening her against the wall, tongue fucking her with no mercy, imprinting her incredible taste and texture on my brain forever.

  “You wore this scrap of nothing to tease me, didn’t you?” I growl, ripping my mouth away so I can see her face when I thrust my cock into the notch of her thighs. Watching Mila’s eyes roll into the back of her head, feeling her legs begin to shake, I do it again and press my mouth to her ear. “You knew you’d break me.”

  “I hoped so,” she hiccupped, her knees digging into my ribs. “I’ve been hurting so bad.”

  “Shhh. I’m going to make it all better.” I lick my way through the hollow of her throat, using my hold on her bottom to ride her up and down my cock. “I’m going to fuck the ache away every day for the rest of your life.”

  Her gasp brings my head up. “You said the F word, preacher,” she says in a hushed tone, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re not who everyone thinks you are. Are you?”

  After the barest hesitation, I shake my head. “No.” My hips press her tighter to the door, pushing against the cushion of her pussy until she whimpers. “You came here to break me, but I’ve been broken for a year. I would have murdered any man in this town who tried to touch you. You’ve been mine—and that was before I knew you’ve been shaking your sweet ass for me every Sunday. I’ve busted so many times against the side of your house, I’ve worn the paint off.” I capture her mouth in a hard kiss. “There’s no changing your mind now, Mila. You’re mine.”

  There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Uh, preacher?” An elderly female voice calls through the door. One of the more involved members of my congregation. “The tents we rented for the bake sale have to be returned by two pm. I don’t want to rush your counseling session—what a miracle!—but, um…if we don’t finish the service soon, I don’t know if we’ll be able to sell off all the pies by the time—”

  “I’ll be right out,” I call, tight lipped.

  Mila’s pussy is so drenched, she’s starting to soak through my pants and I need to bury myself inside her so badly, I can barely maintain my sanity. But I’m not taking her virginity with a quickie, then leaving her here while I finis
h my sermon. It’s not happening. No, she needs to be stroked and praised and spoiled afterwards. I’m going to see it done, come hell or high water.

  “Will you wait here for me?” I ask quietly, kissing her hairline. “I’ll finish the service and then I’ll bring you straight home.”

  “To your house?” Mila asks hopefully.

  Is she eager to see my home? Or is she reluctant to go back to hers? The latter gives me pause and I resolve to question her about it later. “Yes, my house.” I ease my tongue into her mouth and draw it in and out, slowly, again and again, until she’s restless, squirming between me and the door. It hurts like hell, but I set her down, plant a kiss her forehead and step back. “Wait right here for me.”

  “I’d wait forever,” she murmurs, watching me back through the door a moment later.

  And I think she would have.

  If she’d been given a choice.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mila

  As soon as the door closes behind the preacher, I throw my arms around myself and squeal, spinning madly around the office. Am I dreaming or did the man of my dreams just promise me forever? When I woke up this morning, I was determined to crack the preacher’s exterior, to push him into a reaction when I was standing right in front of him in the flesh…but I never expected him to be so loving.

  I slide my hands up my cheeks and bury my fingers in my hair, messing it around, unable to wipe the delirious smile off my face.

  You’re sweet and precious in every way.

  My breasts tingle at the memory of him touching me there, gently but with total possession. He called me little girl. He called me the name I’ve imagined him saying to me in the dark so many times.

  “He doesn’t think I’m wicked at all,” I whisper in awe, throwing my arms wide and twirling in a circle—

  I come to an abrupt stop when I see my mother standing just outside the office window, her face pinched with disgust. Did she see me kissing the preacher? No, I would have noticed her before. That’s just her default expression. Why is she here and not sitting in our usual pew, listening to the rest of the sermon?

  Hesitantly, I sidle toward the window and open it slightly. “Hi, mama.”

  It’s only when she gives me a once over and breathes the word slut, do I realize I’m still in my slip, the water having made it transparent. As quickly as possible, I cross my arms over my chest, just in time for my mother to reach through the window and wrap her fist in my long hair.

  “‘Direct channel to His grace,’ my left foot,” she sneers. “Get out here, you little tramp. We’re going home.”

  “No!” I dig my fingers into the windowsill but it’s too late, she’s yanking me through the opening and I’m crashing to the ground, rapping my head on the earth. I try to scramble to my feet and run, but I’m too dizzy and…and I can only stumble blindly behind my mother as she drags me toward the station wagon.

  “If you open your mouth, I’ll belt it shut, do you understand me?”

  “Yes, mama,” I sob, casting a longing glance toward the church.

  “You were always a willful child. Daydreaming when you were supposed to be doing schoolwork or chores. Maturing way too early, like you’d been sent straight from the devil—”

  “No mama, you’re wrong. The preacher told me—”

  Her backhand catches me across the mouth and I’m too stunned, my ears ringing too loudly, to do anything but let her push me into the backseat of the station wagon. “If the preacher told you something different, it’s because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Now you listen to me, young lady,” my mother says, her eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror. “I’ve already been forced to endure the humiliation of two husbands leaving me behind. You will not embarrass this family any further, do you understand? Naked in front of the preacher—I’ve never seen the like. It’s over for you. Starting today.” She shakes her head and revs the engine of the car, pulling out onto the dirt road leading to the main junction. “How am I going to show my face in church again after the stunt you pulled?”

  “I’m sorry, mama. Please just let me go back.”

  “Why? So you can harass that poor, God-fearing man? No ma’am. We’ll be lucky if he agrees to come over and perform the exorcism on you.” My mouth drops open, but she only nods. “I plan to call him soon as we get home and tie you up.”

  Stars wink in front of my eyes and blackness hits.

  Next time I wake up, my mother is tying my wrists to my metal bedframe, muttering about heathenism and this country’s youth being oversexed thanks to the television. One of my wrists is already bound and I can tell from the painful bite of the rope that attempting to free myself is futile. I try anyway, Joseph’s name sticking in my throat in the form of a wretched sob. I want to ask if she called the preacher to come perform an exorcism yet, but I don’t want to come across overeager, lest she cancel the idea and I don’t get to see him. The man who kissed me so tenderly.

  What if mama was right, though?

  What if the preacher was only being nice by telling me I don’t have the devil inside me? Isn’t mama always ranting about how men will say anything to make women lay with them? Maybe I tempted him so terribly with my wicked ways that he turned into a lying sinner—and it’s all my fault.

  Tears fill my eyes and the fight goes out of me. My mother leaves the room and I see her pacing back and forth in front of my bedroom, phone pressed to her ear. “Why won’t he answer?” She screeches. “This is an emergency!”

  Shame swamps me and I turn my face toward the window, unable to witness her disgust with me a second longer.

  The sound of screeching tires makes me stop breathing.

  Is it the preacher? Did my mother get a hold of him?

  If he comes in here and performs an exorcism on me, I don’t know if my heart will be able to stand it. I don’t want proof he thinks I’m a bad seed.

  An engine cuts out in front of my house.

  Silence falls, briefly. Then there’s a jarring crash at the front of the house. The door being kicked open? Boot steps move purposefully across the floorboards toward my room and I see my mother backing down the hallway, laughing nervously.

  “Preacher, thank the almighty Lord you’ve come.” She points a shaking finger into my bedroom. “I hope you brought your Bible because this one needs the demons driven out. Her feminine wiles are out of control. Why, I’ve even heard rumors she’s got the local boys worked up. I’m sure they won’t be held off any longer—”

  “I dare them to try.”

  Did that cold, raspy voice really belong to the preacher?

  Again, my mother laughs nervously. “W-well thank you kindly for coming, preacher. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Scotch.”

  A pause. “Oh…well sure. I’ll fix that right up for you, while you get ready.”

  My breath catches in my throat when Joseph’s tall form fills the doorway and he looks nothing like the town holy man. No, the look in his eyes when he sees me tied to the bed is decidedly hellish. A muscle snaps in his cheek and he seems mighty close to ripping off the doorframe. Because I made him forsake his faith back in the church office? Yes, that must be it. He looks so livid.

  “I take it you didn’t leave my office your own accord, Mila?”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “If I’d known what was happening in this house, I would have come much sooner,” bites the preacher, blue fire igniting in his eyes.

  “Well, I would have told you, only…” says my mother, joining him in the doorway and handing him a glass of amber liquid. “I thought the baptism might drive out the devil. It’s not your fault, preacher. Mila’s evil is more firmly rooted than most. Her father was the same. Left me high and dry with that hellion in my belly.”

  “Leave us.” Joseph turns his blue eyed fury on my mother and she stumbles out of view. “Let me do my job.”

  “Of c-course,” babbles my mother, her footsteps receding. “Y
-yes, preacher.”

  Me and Joseph stare at each other as the front door slams and silence reigns.

  He kicks the entrance to my bedroom shut and walks slowly toward the bed. Oh God, he’s going to try and exorcise me. He said so himself that he has a job to do. Oh, my heart, it’s ripping into a hundred pieces. The man of my dreams thinks I’m evil. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, pulling at my bonds. “I’m sorry I tempted you in a place of worship. I’m sorry I made you forsake your faith.”

  “Mila.”

  Tears roll down my temples. “Yes, preacher?”

  I think Joseph is going to sip his scotch, but instead he holds the glass to my mouth. “Drink, baby girl.”

  After I’ve done as I’m told and the burn in my sternum has calmed me some, Joseph sets the drink on my side table. Then he reaches down and brushes away my tears with his thumb. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing and stay away from you, I missed the horror you’ve been living with.” His lips peel back from his teeth. “Who could treat my sweet angel like this?” The lump in his throat slides up and down, his fists becoming shaking fists. “Have any of the local boys touched you?”

  “No. I’ve been staying inside lately, except for church.” Hope has snuck into my tone. He called me his sweet angel. Is it too much to hope for that everything he said to me in the office was true? I want to so badly, especially when Joseph exhales a pent up breath and rasps thank fuck. But I want to be positive I’m not going to ruin the preacher, so when he reaches over my head to untie me, I shake my head. “Maybe you should wait to untie me preacher. Make sure I’m not going to tempt you down a dark path first.”

  His soft laugh is incredulous. “I’ve been down every dark path this world has to offer. You’re the opposite, little girl. You’re the path of light. That’s part of the reason why I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance.”