Preacher Man
I look into the eyes of two nearby men and let them know. That’s right. I’m the only one who’ll ever get balls deep in this.
Mila’s ass writhes on my belly and she sucks in an audible breath. Then her whole body pulls taut like a wire and she screams, her cream gushing down all over my invading cock. I catch her juice with the pad of my finger and use it to jiggle her clit as she orgasms long and loud. Her pleasure triggers my own and I bellow her name, freeing the immense pressure in my balls, my stomach. I lose my sight for a moment, sunlight winking through the trees, disappearing and coming back. I don’t like being weak this close to other men when I must protect my wife, though, so I grit my teeth and force my way through the immeasurable bliss she gives me, only giving myself a moment to savor the satisfaction of watching come sluice down her inner thighs.
Both of us are still panting as we fix our clothing and engage in a slow, hungry kiss over her shoulder. “What do you say?” I murmur. “You want to get out of here?”
Mila glances down at the still body of the man I killed, her eyes twinkling with humor as she looks back at me. “I think we’d better.”
As I take my obsession’s hand and walk her out of the forest, through the throngs of shocked onlookers, I wonder if she doesn’t have a little bit of the devil in her, after all. If so, it’s going to have a lot of fun playing with mine for the next sixty or so years.
EPILOGUE
Mila
Five years later
I bury my toes in the sand and stare out at the Irish Sea. The water is wild and untamed, wind whipping off the surface to throw my hair into chaos. My hand rests on my newly swollen belly and nearby, my daughter and son build a castle with buckets and spades, giggling and telling secrets. I close my eyes and breathe in the salt air through my nose, my mouth curling into a smile when I feel a gentle kick against my palm.
Joseph approaches me from behind and I don’t need to turn to confirm that. I always know when he’s coming, because my skin flushes and my heart accelerates. There’s a click inside me, our souls locking back together after a short absence while he’s been at work and peace settles over me like a silk net.
My husband’s arms slide around my waist and he groans into my neck. “Mila. Goddamn, you look beautiful standing here.” He plants slow, lingering kisses along my shoulder. “Being away from you drives me crazy, baby girl. By the end of the day, I’m in pain. I can’t stand it.”
“Me either,” I admit, leaning back into his strength, absorbing it greedily. “But we were safe here. I…think this might be it, Joseph.”
His mouth pauses in its journey up the side of my neck. “Really?”
I press my lips together and stare out at the horizon. Across this expanse of blue are a dozen places me and Joseph have traveled over the last five years, building our family as we went. California, Belize, Australia. He always takes me somewhere with an ocean. Every time, I fall in love with a new body of water, but none except the Irish Sea have made me want to stay. To never leave.
We left Mississippi with nothing but the clothes on our backs five years ago, but Joseph had enough money hidden away to keep us living comfortably for a lifetime. My husband is not the type to rest on his laurels, however, and has made good money working as a builder at each of our stops.
He specializes in churches.
Every evening, Joseph returns to me covered in dust and starved for my body. Almost feral in his need, he finds somewhere we can be alone and he licks between my thighs, moaning and fisting his manhood until I’m damp enough to be taken. And then he does. Until I’m limp.
Our first stop after leaving Mississippi was California and there we met a former Vegas go-go dancer named Marilyn—a woman in her late sixties with a knowing smile and a tender heart who lived in the house next door. When I found out I was pregnant, she became my surrogate mother, guiding me on what to do to have a healthy pregnancy and what to do when the time came to give birth. I don’t know what I would have done without her. And when our daughter came along, Marilyn fell for her, the same way me and Joseph did. Marilyn is our nanny now and we’ve brought her all over the world with us.
Lord knows we need her around. My husband’s appetite for me has not cooled in the last five years, but grown increasingly stronger, along with mine. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll both combust due to the power of our lust. Most nights, we retreat to the beach and rut like animals in the moonlight, my knees digging into wet sand as Joseph slams into me from behind, his hoarse voice in my ear.