“Thank God.” I slump back against the couch. Meeting up with Tech was out of the question, but they agreed to send a message on my behalf.
“Is that better?”
“No. Having my life back would be better. This is making the situation bearable.” I went back and forth with Grimm like a haggler trying to get the best deal possible. In the end, a brief, non-traceable email was agreed upon.
“We’re working on it.”
“Are you? Feels like you’re trying to cover your ass,” I mutter.
“Why does it have to be one or the other?” Preacher asks, placing a hand on my knee. “Do you think we deserve all that anger you’re sending our way?”
“Does it matter? I’m your prisoner.”
“That’s not what you said last night when I had my face between your thighs.” He slides his hand up higher, and I press my legs together. “I think you need to relax.”
“And I bet you can help with that?” I peer down at him.
He smirks. “Is this the game we’re playing now? Acting like we don’t want to get lost in each other to feel more than we have been. We’re kindred spirits. I see beneath that polished veneer because hurt recognizes hurt. But we’re survivors, aren’t we, love? This situation is just another hurdle for us to leap. Why not do it together?”
“The problem with that is there’s always another hurdle after.”
“Do you remember what I told you?” He pushes my thighs apart and kneels, wedging his shoulders between my legs to keep them open as I raise my head. “That you were mine and I wouldn’t let you go? That includes keeping you from getting lost in your own head. I’m here to do more than fuck you into oblivion. Though we’ll get to that, too. You have a world of rage shining in your eyes. Halve that burden with me.” His voice's rich timbre and dark eyes must be black magic because, despite my best effort, I’m falling under his spell. His hands are strong and sturdy where they knead my thighs, and his eyes never look away from mine. Preacher’s strength is soul-deep and documented by those who put their trust in him.
“Your mouth is a formidable weapon.”
“Glad to know four years in college for an English degree was worth it,” he says, amused.
“You have an English degree?”
“I’ve always been fascinated with words and how they affect people. I saw that with my father in his sermons. His loves were always words and God. In the end, he chose both but served God first. Retirement for him has been bliss lost among the books.”
“How do you reconcile what you do with your upbringing?” I ask, moaning as his massage moves down to my tight calves.
“We all worship and serve in different ways. What I do keeps people safe and serves a purpose. I’ll have very few regrets when I stand to be judged.” His cadence is lyrical, and I want to hear him talk more about himself.
“Are we insane to try and make this happen right now?”
“Maybe. But we both know life is short.” He purses his lips. “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, only felt with the heart. That’s how you make me feel, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. You brought back a part of me I thought had perished.”
“Did you just quote Little Prince to me?” I whisper shakily.
“If you could be my rose, Flower. I’ll be happy to be the prince who protects you.”
He slays me with that sentence, pulling me firmly into his orbit. Moving his warm hands farther down, he cups my foot and continues to knead the tension from my body, adoring me with his words and hands. It’s more than a sexual attraction. His soul disconcertingly calls to mine.
“And if I accept your offer?”
“Haven’t you already?” He sets my foot down and skims his left hand up my leg to cup my pulsing mound through my tights. “I’m going to possess every part of you. But I’ll start here tonight.”
He adds pressure to my waking clit, and I squirm. Leaning forward, he lifts my shirt and nips at my belly.
“’Cause you’re wound so tight, you’re going to explode if we don’t hit the pressure relief valve, and my tongue is missing your sweet flavor.”
“And what about your cock?” I ask as my walls flex around nothing.
His tongue circles my belly button and dips in and out, mimicking the act my quivering core wants desperately. “Ready and at your service.”
“Tonight, I don’t want to think. I only want to feel,” I whisper shakily.