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27
River
Aftershocks of pleasureare still rippling through me, but my orgasm is already forgotten.
I feel like I’m holding my breath, waiting to see what the viciously beautiful blond man in front of me is going to do. The look in his ice-blue eyes doesn’t make it clear whether he wants to kiss me or kill me, and when he grabs me roughly and lifts me off the piano, I’m still not sure.
Without saying anything, he carries me over to the couch that rests against one wall and throws me onto it.
He braces one hand on the back of the couch and leans down to hover over me, his body practically vibrating with some emotion I can’t even name. There’s probably anger in there, because if Priest is showing an emotion it’s usually anger, but there’s so much intensity in it that I have no fucking idea.
He lets out a harsh breath and reaches for me, one hand gripping my throat in a harsh hold.
I gasp instinctually, but he doesn’t cut off my air. Not quite. Close, though. Close enough that it sends a thrill of adrenaline through my body that makes my heart race and my clit throb, even though I just came.
With his nostrils flaring, he stares down at me. His free hand moves down my body, and he shoves it into the front of my panties. I know he can feel how wet I still am, and he closes his eyes and groans low in his throat. He sounds like he’s truly tortured by it, and I shiver at the sound.
Priest drags his fingers through my folds, exploring me roughly. Like he wants to map out every inch of my pussy with his fingertips and doesn’t care to be gentle about it. He doesn’t kiss me or touch me in any other way, just keeps that hold on my throat while he lets his fingers do their work.
I feel pinned in place… but not in a bad way.
His touch is harsh, but he’s not hurting me. Not more than I’ve come to like, anyway. It feelsgood, the way he holds me here, working his fingers through my mess before shoving two long digits inside me.
I gasp out and arch up against him, my eyes fluttering closed for a second.
There’s no gentleness, no hesitation. He slams his fingers into me again and again, working me up and working me open while I writhe beneath him.
I grind against his hand, and he squeezes my throat a little tighter, making it a little harder to breathe.
My chest tightens from the lack of oxygen, but there’s no flash of panic or worry that he’s going to kill me like this. Instead, there’s just the slow, heady burn of arousal, curling through me and growing like a fire starting to spread.
Priest adds another finger, all three of them stretching me to the point where I can feel the burn of it. He fucks me with them the same way he might with his dick, hard movements that make wet noises echo in the room.
It’s such a contrast to the beautiful music he was making before. His rough touch, the callouses I can feel scraping against my sensitive walls. The guttural, quiet sounds I make as I let him do whatever he wants to me.
I buck beneath him, trying to get more pressure, unable to hold myself back. I feel raw and primal in a way I like. Not thinking, not trying to be sexy or intimidating or anything. Just reacting to the way he touches me, the way he forces me to feel this pleasure.
It’s fucking amazing, going to my head with every thin breath I manage to suck in.
All through it, Priest doesn’t say anything. He stares down at me, watching, waiting. His face is twisted into a slightly different version of his usual neutral mask, but I can tell he’s focused on this. His breathing is as harsh as mine, and his bright blue eyes burn like they’re lit from within.
I choke out his name when he hits that spot inside me just right, and he lingers there, slamming his fingers into it again and again. Until I can’t form words at all anymore. I writhe and buck, my body moving on pure instinct.
His hand tightens just that bit more on my throat, cutting off my air enough that darkness edges my vision as my orgasm hits me hard. It rolls through me and over me like a truck slamming into me at a hundred miles an hour, and I can’t even scream.
All I can do is shake myself apart as pleasure ravages my body, leaving me limp and gasping.
It takes a few long minutes for me to come down from the shock of that high, and of our encounter. My pussy feels a little sore from how roughly he handled it, and when he releases me, it’s like I can still feel the phantom touch of his fingers at my neck.
Priest backs off, letting me go and standing up. He leaves me sprawled on the couch, still trying to catch my breath.
His features are back to that perfect expressionless mask once again, and he looks down at me with cool eyes. All trace of anger or passion or whatever I saw in them completely gone.
I half expect him to turn around and walk out, or spit some threat at me, but instead he just takes a breath and keeps looking.
A few seconds pass before he speaks.
“You want to know why I went after you? Why I saved you?” He lets the question linger on the air for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
