Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men 6) - Page 84

“Oh my,” I breathed as he stroked one hand down the crease of my bum cheeks to the apex of my thighs.

With a quick, vicious tear, my underwear was gone, cold air wafting over my hot, wet flesh. Priest’s cool fingers felt divine as they parted my folds and played in the wet, swirling up over my clit, then down to dip and tease at my entrance.

“Gonna fuck you here,” he warned in that rough-hewn voice that felt like an extra set of calloused hands on my skin. “Gonna fuck you here, now, take you hard on the ground and fill you up ’til you can’t take anymore’a me.”

“Yes,” I hissed, trying to pump my hips against his excruciatingly light touch.

In retribution, he shocked me by swatting my entire sex with his big hand. I jerked at the sensation as heat sparked through my entire body. My eyes were wide, mouth parted as I pulled back to stare at him in awe.

Priest’s eyes glimmered, pale frames around dark pupils.

He slapped me again.

Breath exploded from my mouth. I felt a telltale trickle of wet down my thigh, the pooling of it in Priest’s cruel palm.

“Priest,” I gritted through my teeth, feeling dangerously close to electrocution. I didn’t understand what was happening to me; why such force against my tender clit could feel like an explosion of sparks. “Wh-what are you doing to me?”

“Owning you,” he responded instantly on a growl.

The next second, he was taking us to the dirt. The frosted grass crackled beneath my body as he lay me on the earth, propped up on one elbow just enough to keep from suffocating me while the other hand dove into his shirt to pull out a blade on a thin silver chain. I panted wildly, chest heaving so badly I worried he might nick my flesh for one mad second. Of course, he didn’t. The dagger was an extension of himself. He rucked up the sweater I wore beneath my coat and cut away my pink lace bra so my small breasts tumbled out, nipples hard enough to cut glass in the cold air. It was nothing compared to the cold of the steel against my trembling belly as he ran it around my belly button over and over and over.

He tipped his head down to watch it. “Such soft, white skin. Like fuckin’ silk. Just a little flick”––he followed his own direction, his wrist twisting slightly to open up a tiny cut above the whorl in my belly then again below. I gasped at the sharp zing of pain that was all too brief before it morphed into pleasure––“and I could tear all that silk in two.”

I frowned even though my mind was drugged with pleasure, my eyes heavy and hot in my head. “No, never. You’d never hurt me, Priest.”

Something twisted flared across his features like lightning across a dark sky. The knife rasped along my belly, gently through my soft curls, then to my left inner thigh. My legs quivered as he drew hard lines with the side of the steel inside my flesh from upper inner thigh to the top of my knee.

“A line for every year you’ve been mine and haven’t known it,” he said, almost to himself, hypnotized by the sight of my skin raised and red in the wake of his blade.

“How many?” I wondered, breathlessly.

I couldn’t conceive that he might have wanted me before now, before the accident. He was always so aloof, so impenetrable.

“Watched you eat a peach at sixteen,” he muttered, shucking the chain over his head and dropping it along with the knife to the ground so he could undo his fly and bring his long, curved cock into the snow-bright night. “Cut it with a sharp blade into segments and licked the juice off the steel.” He looked up into my eyes after he slotted the thick, hot head of his cock at my grasping entrance to growl, “I wanted to be the knife.”

In one unyielding stroke, he seated himself to the hilt inside me. My head ground into the grassy mud as I keened long and low to the moon flickering through the clouds. I clasped him to me, clinging so he would anchor me through the mind-rending sensation of his bulk splitting me in two.

“Hold tight, Little Shadow,” he warned as he fisted a hand in the back of my hair and pinned my hip to the ground with the other, rendering me immobile, perfectly positioned for his pleasure. “Gonna fuck you so hard, you forget there’s a God.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but there was nothing in my head but the acute stretch of him inside me, the way my womb seemed to contract and pussy pulse. He dragged his erection out of me on a slow, friction-filled glide, then thrust savagely back to the end of my sex.

Tags: Giana Darling The Fallen Men Erotic
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