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A smooth, cold object brushes against the lips of my exposed pussy, and I dig my nails into my ankle bones, my muscles trembling with the added imbalance of the heels still strapped to my feet.
“I bought this in New York. The moment I saw it in one of those sex toy shops, it reminded me of you,pécheresse.”
“What were you doing in a sex toy shop?”
“Looking for a gift to bring home to you.” He spreads my ass and groans, running his thumb up and down the seam.
Eyes closed, I focus on his touch, the faint tickle of his skin over my sensitive flesh.
A hard thwack against my ass sends an outcry shooting up my throat, and I suck my lip between my teeth, concentrating on the delicious sting that follows. Another smack follows the first, creating jagged flashes of light behind my screwed eyelids, the hot wash of tingles chasing the fleeting pain.
“The Sacrement of Penance is the most beautiful act of obedience. It renews and washes you clean. And you are filthy, aren’t you,pécheresse?”
His thumb presses against my asshole, and I don’t realize I’ve bitten into my lip until the salty taste of blood hits my tongue.
Another hard crack smarts my flesh, and I cry out when the burn of my punishment trails over my ass. A cool breeze provides just enough tickle, and I twist to see Damon’s face hidden behind my propped ass, where he blows on the tortured flesh.
“Perhaps I was too rough that time?” The stern command in his voice gives way to the soft-spoken man from before, and I can practically hear the remorse in his tone.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, still wracked with lust.
He rounds my body, positioning himself between me and the wall in front of me. Something brushes my lips, and I look up to see his fist clamped around his cock. He drags the weeping tip across my cheek, the fluids drying as fast as he smears them there. On another sweep over my mouth, I strain my neck to suck the tip of him, keeping my hands at my ankles, and the sharp sting of his palm gripping a handful of hair has me breathing hard through my nose, exhaling the pain.
“On your knees.”
I don’t have to look up to know that strained voice is spoken past clenched teeth.
Releasing my ankles, I fall to my knees, grateful to be upright again, and take him into my mouth once more. Ridges and soft skin glide over my eager lips, as the ache from sucking him pulls at my jaw.
“On the bed, Ivy. I can’t do this anymore. I need to be inside of you.”
As he commands, I stumble toward the bed on wobbly heels, and the moment my knee hits the mattress, Damon’s palms are at my hips, drawing me back into him. Pressure hits my entrance before he slides inside, filling me, and I grip the sheets as those hands keep me still while he grinds himself so deep, I swear, he’s pierced my womb. Head buried into the mattress, I let the waning oxygen give just enough euphoria to feel high from the pleasure, and when he jackhammers against me, jostling my tits, my belly tightens with the first twinge of orgasm.
Tender flesh marks the spot where angry fingers dig into my hips, and his pace hastens with the rush of blood that swells his cock inside of me. “Ah, fuck!”
A cool rush chases after warm tingles as the climax explodes through me, and Damon’s fluids dribble down over my ass and thighs where he’s directed warm jets of cum. Probably the fastest, no-nonsense sex we’ve had yet.
“You really did miss me, didn’t you?” I ask through harsh breaths and the constant thump of my heart against my ribs.
The mattress bounces, where Damon collapses on the bed beside me, his skin glistening with sweat.
“More than I care to admit.”
“What does that mean?”
Hand stroking down his face, he looks like a man tortured by his desires. “It means the hotel sheet I slept under has probably seen better days.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I crawl over the damp, crumpled sheets of my own bed to lie next to him. “Did you look up an old girlfriend, or something?”
He lowers his hand and lifts his head off the pillow just enough to meet my gaze with a frown.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know priests masturbated in their free time.” Tracing a finger over his nipple, I glance up at him. “Is that what priests do when they’re alone in bed?”
“I wouldn’t begin to know what other priests do when they’re alone in bed.”
Again, I chuckle, but the laughter fades with a random flash of Calvin’s face in my thoughts. I’ll never get this bastard out of my head.
“I have to tell you something, Damon.” I don’t want to tell him, but staying quiet feels like a lie, and maybe it’s because he’s a priest, but that just doesn’t sit well with me.
