Preacher Man

A moan leaves Mila and she sways. “I like when you call me that.”

I press our foreheads together and peel down the straps of her slip, baring her pretty, pink-tipped tits. Palming them gently. “Little girl.”

She shudders almost violently and I have no choice but to snare her mouth in a kiss. It’s meant to cherish, to soothe, to reassure Mila that there isn’t a single evil thing about her. But her taste is a shot of adrenaline to my system. My entire being recognizes the female it has been hungering for and responds, my dick swelling to the point of agony, my tongue licking into her mouth and devouring. Before I know my own intentions, I’m gripping her juicy, little ass cheeks, lifting her up and flattening her against the wall, tongue fucking her with no mercy, imprinting her incredible taste and texture on my brain forever.

“You wore this scrap of nothing to tease me, didn’t you?” I growl, ripping my mouth away so I can see her face when I thrust my cock into the notch of her thighs. Watching Mila’s eyes roll into the back of her head, feeling her legs begin to shake, I do it again and press my mouth to her ear. “You knew you’d break me.”

“I hoped so,” she hiccupped, her knees digging into my ribs. “I’ve been hurting so bad.”

“Shhh. I’m going to make it all better.” I lick my way through the hollow of her throat, using my hold on her bottom to ride her up and down my cock. “I’m going to fuck the ache away every day for the rest of your life.”

Her gasp brings my head up. “You said the F word, preacher,” she says in a hushed tone, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re not who everyone thinks you are. Are you?”

After the barest hesitation, I shake my head. “No.” My hips press her tighter to the door, pushing against the cushion of her pussy until she whimpers. “You came here to break me, but I’ve been broken for a year. I would have murdered any man in this town who tried to touch you. You’ve been mine—and that was before I knew you’ve been shaking your sweet ass for me every Sunday. I’ve busted so many times against the side of your house, I’ve worn the paint off.” I capture her mouth in a hard kiss. “There’s no changing your mind now, Mila. You’re mine.”

There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Uh, preacher?” An elderly female voice calls through the door. One of the more involved members of my congregation. “The tents we rented for the bake sale have to be returned by two pm. I don’t want to rush your counseling session—what a miracle!—but, um…if we don’t finish the service soon, I don’t know if we’ll be able to sell off all the pies by the time—”

“I’ll be right out,” I call, tight lipped.

Mila’s pussy is so drenched, she’s starting to soak through my pants and I need to bury myself inside her so badly, I can barely maintain my sanity. But I’m not taking her virginity with a quickie, then leaving her here while I finish my sermon. It’s not happening. No, she needs to be stroked and praised and spoiled afterwards. I’m going to see it done, come hell or high water.

“Will you wait here for me?” I ask quietly, kissing her hairline. “I’ll finish the service and then I’ll bring you straight home.”

“To your house?” Mila asks hopefully.

Is she eager to see my home? Or is she reluctant to go back to hers? The latter gives me pause and I resolve to question her about it later. “Yes, my house.” I ease my tongue into her mouth and draw it in and out, slowly, again and again, until she’s restless, squirming between me and the door. It hurts like hell, but I set her down, plant a kiss her forehead and step back. “Wait right here for me.”

“I’d wait forever,” she murmurs, watching me back through the door a moment later.

And I think she would have.

If she’d been given a choice.

CHAPTER THREE

Mila

As soon as the door closes behind the preacher, I throw my arms around myself and squeal, spinning madly around the office. Am I dreaming or did the man of my dreams just promise me forever? When I woke up this morning, I was determined to crack the preacher’s exterior, to push him into a reaction when I was standing right in front of him in the flesh…but I never expected him to be so loving.

I slide my hands up my cheeks and bury my fingers in my hair, messing it around, unable to wipe the delirious smile off my face.

You’re sweet and precious in every way.

My breasts tingle at the memory of him touching me there, gently but with total possession. He called me little girl. He called me the name I’ve imagined him saying to me in the dark so many times.