Preacher Man
Page 6
We left Mississippi with nothing but the clothes on our backs five years ago, but Joseph had enough money hidden away to keep us living comfortably for a lifetime. My husband is not the type to rest on his laurels, however, and has made good money working as a builder at each of our stops.
He specializes in churches.
Every evening, Joseph returns to me covered in dust and starved for my body. Almost feral in his need, he finds somewhere we can be alone and he licks between my thighs, moaning and fisting his manhood until I’m damp enough to be taken. And then he does. Until I’m limp.
Our first stop after leaving Mississippi was California and there we met a former Vegas go-go dancer named Marilyn—a woman in her late sixties with a knowing smile and a tender heart who lived in the house next door. When I found out I was pregnant, she became my surrogate mother, guiding me on what to do to have a healthy pregnancy and what to do when the time came to give birth. I don’t know what I would have done without her. And when our daughter came along, Marilyn fell for her, the same way me and Joseph did. Marilyn is our nanny now and we’ve brought her all over the world with us.
Lord knows we need her around. My husband’s appetite for me has not cooled in the last five years, but grown increasingly stronger, along with mine. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll both combust due to the power of our lust. Most nights, we retreat to the beach and rut like animals in the moonlight, my knees digging into wet sand as Joseph slams into me from behind, his hoarse voice in my ear.
Did my little girl miss me?
Or those other, dirtier nights.
You’ve tempted me for the last time, brat.
My skin tingles with awareness and my husband’s hand slips to my breast, lightly pinching my distended nipple between his knuckles. I move my backside in his lap, slowly writhing against the thickness of his erection. Joseph owns me. Heart, body and soul. And for the first time, I’ve found a place on this earth that speaks to those same parts of me, caressing them with intuition.
We’ve finally found a place that’s worthy of our love.
“Yes, this is it, Joseph,” I say. “I want us to stay here forever.”
He nods into my neck. “Then I will build you and our children a house right here on the water.” His tone is fierce. “This is where I’ll love you until the end of time, Mila.”
Tears sting my eyelids. “I love you, Joseph.”
“I love you, too.” He presses his mouth to my ear, his voice in a rasp. “I’m obsessed with you. I lust for you. I take every fucking breath for you.” His hand grows more insistent on my breast. “Now call for the nanny.”
Moisture gathers between my thighs and I’m vibrating head to toe, but I manage to turn and gesture weakly to Marilyn where she stands on the porch of our rental cottage. She knows that gesture. It’s a nightly occurrence.
Without letting a moment pass, she calls to my children, promising them cookies. No sooner have they run squealing toward the house than Joseph spins me around, yanking down the bodice of my dress to free my breasts.
“Ah Jesus, little girl,” he growls, pulling me up against him and dipping his head to suck my nipples one by one into his mouth. “I’ll never get enough. It’s never enough. What you do to me. I think of nothing else. Just Mila. My Mila.”
I reach under my dress and tug down my panties, goose bumps flying up my skin at Joseph’s starved expression, the way he groans when my panties hit the sand, that huge part of him bulging behind his fly. Wide eyed, I bite my lip and hitch my legs up around his waist. “Is it playtime, Daddy?”
Joseph fumbles with his zipper and finds my entrance with his erection, bouncing me five, six, seven times until I’m fully impaled and we’re both moaning. “It’s always playtime when we’re alone, little girl.”
And with the sea roaring behind us, we play fiercely, we love obsessively.
We begin our forever.
THE END
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