Page 72 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

I palm my tingling cock. I’m not going to last nine minutes, so ease a second finger inside her. Her throaty sound of pleasure almost undoes me. I work her harder. Can’t stop. I’m ravenous for her, so aroused that I’m dry-humping the bed.

She whimpers, “Please, please, I need it⁠—”

When I curl my fingers inside her, digging for that spot, she tenses so hard that she trembles. Her breath hitches, and then she breaks. With a deep cry of abandon, Mercy comes hard, inner walls fluttering against my fingers.

I keep going, keep fucking and tonguing her through it, keep eating it up, raw and savage until she goes limp with a sob. And still, I lick her through the aftershocks, savoring the taste. I was too taken by the hunger at the Vatican to remember how this feels, but I want to live here in her thighs. I want to inscribe her taste to memory, and every sound she makes to my heart.

She’s so soft, all woman, and made to be consumed. Made to be worshipped.

Made for me.

At some point, she whimpers and digs her fingers into my hair, yanking me upward. As I trail hot, open-mouthed kisses up her stomach, I glimpse my shadowed reflection in the mirror. I don’t recognize myself, the wildness in my eyes, the joy.

“Beautiful,” I mutter, palming her breast. “You come for me so beautifully, piccola.”

She babbles an incoherent response and then moans softly. Two breaths, a moment of peace, and then she releases a sharp, choked-out, “Again.”

I glance at the timer and frown because it hasn’t gone off yet. “We have four minutes left until⁠—”

“Fuck the timer.”

I meet her defiant eyes and grin.

Twenty-Five

Mercy

Cisco’s feral grin is the last thing I see before he flips me onto my stomach.

My head spins, half from the orgasm and half from the ache of being kept on edge for hours. The damn plug is still in me, a deep, throbbing ache of fullness.

“Up on your elbows and knees, piccola.” He swats my bottom.

I try, God, I do, but my limbs are jelly. “Can’t.”

“You have until I’m undressed to get into position.”

“Yes, boss,” I moan, blissed out, and lazily lift my head. The mirror reflects Cisco’s profile, silhouetted at the open window. He strips off his trousers, and I can’t look away. Maybe it’s just my heightened hormones, but everything about him tonight is just so damn hot. As his briefs come off, his cock springs out, long and hard.

He catches me staring, and a smug knowing smirk lifts his fuckable lips. When he walks away to fold his trousers, the neat freak that he is, I roll for a better view of his naked buttocks. Jesus-fuck, it’s also tattooed. My pussy clenches, and I have to bite down on my lower lip to hide the moan.

How on earth did the Vatican invite this sinful man to become a priest? Just look at him. He’s the sexiest, most dangerous-looking man I’ve ever met. Surely they knew he’d have parishioners falling over themselves to get to him for communion.

That was probably the point.

And he has no clue how appealing he is, which makes me want him even more.

After removing a small bottle of something from his folded trousers, he neatly deposits them on a chair. Approaching the bed from the base, his lazy eyes drift over my body, and he gives his erection a slow pump, dragging the head through his fist.

My mouth waters at the sight. His forearm is thick and veined, inked down to that fuckable ring finger stamped with a cross. I’ve fantasized for weeks about watching that finger disappear inside me.

“You like the view?” His muted voice slides through the dark.

“Why don’t you look and see for yourself?”

He strolls back to the window side, where my legs fall, and the moonlight is stronger. His facial features blur a little in the shadows, but I see his scowl when he realizes I’m not in the position he wanted. But he doesn’t complain. He moves me into the position he wanted—on all fours. I lower onto my elbows, arch my back, and present myself to him, watching his reaction in the mirror and trying not to whimper at the plug moving deeper.

“Sì, like this.” Cisco’s voice deepens and grows rough. “Look how wet you are, piccola. You ache for this, don’t you?” He pumps his length. “For me, not that plastic.”