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It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone else, and my body protested. How had I found this place? I thanked God as Anthony violated me over the altar, and maybe it was wrong, but I didn’t think so. Nothing about Anthony had ever felt wrong. If he was wrong, I was wrong, and there was no fixing it.
He added another finger. “I’ve been imagining this since that day.”
“Since we kissed?” I stammered, back arching, my cheek against cool holy linens. “You’ve been imagining me?”
“Would there be anyone else?”
“It’s been twenty years. There could be,” I said, sorrow filtering through me for what was taken away from us. Our first times with one another.
“There has been no one else.”
“What?” I gasped, because he chose that moment to roughly twist inside me.
“You’ve never loved anyone else?” I asked, sad for him if it was true.
“I’ve never touched anyone else. Just you. You’re the only one who’s ever carried my marks.” He laid his hand over my cheek, sealing the statement in flesh.
“Wait…”
He paused mid pull back. “Yes?”
“You’re a virgin?” I asked, not wholly believing it.
“You have made me come before. Did you forget?” He spoke with a calmness that shouldn’t be possible with the ruthless way he fucked my hole.
“I didn’t forget, but that was two teenagers dry humping in dark corners. We never…” I’d never even seen his cock until he’d rammed it down my throat.
“If you believe penetration denotes virginity, then yes, I am a virgin. I entered the seminary at eighteen.”
“There was time between…” I hated the thought of anyone else touching him. I would kill them in cold blood if he ever let slip their names.
“Soon as they put us into witness protection, I decided I needed to atone.”
He teased his tip against me, not withdrawing his fingers. I strained so I could watch his beautiful cock entire me. Thick and veiny. I wanted it in my mouth again, but this time slower so I could take my time to fully enjoy it.
“Do you enjoy watching?”
“Yes. I want to finally see how you look inside me.”
He slapped my ass again, keeping to teasing, warming my skin. It stung, but hardly. Kneading between hits while his tip smeared oil along my split. He took his time and my patience began to break.
“Anthony.” Desperation bled into my tone.
“I can feel how much you want me.” He pushed just his tip inside me with his fingers.
I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. “More.”
“Did you say something, lamb?”
“More,” I croaked.
He offered another inch, but nothing more.
“Do I have to beg?” My heart jumped to throat, anticipation killing me.
“No, this is to my discretion. You may beg, and I may enjoy it, but I’ll take what I want when I want.” He wound the belt around his palm, pulling my arms taut, as he forced himself home.
Buried to the hilt, fingers and cock. Entirely invaded. Stretched beyond imagining. And it hurt. It was bliss. There was nothing in this life or the next that would compare to him. I knew it in my bones.
