Preacher Man
I tip my face up, begging without words for him to kiss me. “Will you tell me who you really are, preacher?”
“Yes.” He traces my cheeks, forehead and lips with his open mouth, his eyes pinched shut. “Yes, I’ll bare my soul to you, Mila. No one else.”
Oh no. With Joseph touching me, the ache down in my core is worse than ever. There’s a string inside me pulled tighter than fishing wire and I’m wet, so wet that my thighs are turning slippery and I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where it leads. “Will you help me figure out what’s wrong with me?” I gasp, my whole body trembling head to toe as Joseph runs a knuckle down the center of my secret place. “I’m so restless a-and hot,” I heave, twisting in my bonds. “Nothing I do makes the horrible throb go away.”
His dark brows snap together. “You haven’t come before, Mila?”
I shake my head miserably.
“God, Mila. I can’t stand knowing that.” With a vile, muffled curse, Joseph releases the top button of his shirt and pulls at his collar. It’s the first time I’ve seen his throat and I swear I glimpse a swirl of ink beneath a layer of sweat, but I’m burning with a wild fire and can’t be sure it isn’t my fevered mind playing tricks on me. “There’s nothing wrong with you. What did I tell you at the church? Your body needs mine, little girl. I’m your cure. And you’re mine.” He reaches above my head. “I’m going to make it all better, but I can’t stand to see you tied up anymore.”
“Will you please leave me tied?” I blurt, before I know my own mind. “I can’t explain why it’s different having you here and…not being able to get free. Only that it feels so good to trust you. I want to bare my soul to you, too,” I finish in a whisper.
Joseph leans down and captures my mouth in a hard, seeking kiss. “You were made for me, Mila,” he grates when he pulls away. My chest shudders up and down as Joseph stands and moves to the end of the bed. He leans down and hooks his finger in the waistband of my panties, tugging them down my thighs, knees, calves, ankles…before dropping them to the floor. I’ll never be able to explain this moment. Having Joseph look at my bare womanhood and not being able to hide myself, even if I wanted to. The lack of power is wonderful and sends a feminine thrill rushing through my body. What’s he going to do with me?
Anything he wants.
More moisture coats my thighs under Joseph’s watchful blue eyes and he groans, falling to his knees on the floor, lunging forward on his elbows to lick me straight up the center. A scream catches in my throat, my vision wavering. H-he licked me. There. A sensation I’ve never known gathers in my middle, a storm full of thunderheads preparing to break. And that’s before Joseph finds that secret nub at the very top of my flesh—I never thought to look that high—batting it with his tongue, before lightly sucking. Then he’s alternating between the gentle suction and rolling the flat of his tongue over me, side to side, teasing it with quick, little flickers.
“Oh my God,” I scream, my head thrashing side to side on the pillow, wrists yanking at the bonds. “My God, my God, my God.”
“Sounds like you’re doing a great job in there, preacher,” my mother calls from the other side of the door. “She’s already calling out to her maker. You’ll get the devil out of her yet.”
Joseph doesn’t seem to care that my mother is listening on the other side of the door, because he presses my knees wide on the bed, the pink folds of my femininity blooming open for his blessed tongue. His expression is almost feral as he licks the gloss off my thighs, savoring it like communion, his nostrils flaring, fingers tightening on my knees like he can’t help it. And then he goes back in for more, tucking his tongue inside my opening and wiggling it around until my back arches off the bed. “I’ll do anything,” I holler, not even sure what I’m asking for. “Please, please. I’ll do anything.”
“Pray!” My mother calls from the hallway. “Pray for your life.”
“Jesus save me. Jesus,” I babble, my legs wrapping around Joseph’s head, hips twisting to combat the unbearable pressure between my thighs. “Oh, please. I can’t take it anymore.”
Joseph moans into a thorough lick, the pupils of his eyes having bled into the blue irises, making them totally black. Sweat dots his brow, his big shoulders heaving. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it’s the preacher licking me in my most private place. And now he’s using the V of his fingers to open me up even more, pressing until I can see the pink bud from my position on the pillow, can see his tongue taptaptap it, then lave it like a fiend, his expression nothing short of beastly. It’s the last straw. My body explodes like an atom bomb, my senses shooting out in five directions, that wire inside me snapping, finally finally snapping.