“I’ve never liked you wearing underwear.”
She cried out as he slid a single finger in her.
“You’re so wet.”
He pumped his digit in and out, driving her crazy with more need and then his tongue slicked across her clit before he nibbled on the delicate bud.
She felt the start of an orgasm. It built up and quickly washed over her, taking her by surprise from the sheer pleasure of his touch.
“I’d have to say that was a personal best for me,” he said.
She giggled. “I guess I can say I like your mouth on me.” She wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him down. She tasted herself on his lips but didn’t care about anything else as he put the tip of his cock to her entrance.
Preacher broke the kiss first, staring into her eyes as inch-by-inch, he sank inside her, filling her up. He kept on going, even when she didn’t think she could take much more, he didn’t stop, and she didn’t want him to. It felt amazing. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she cried out as he slammed in the last inch, making her jolt. Pain and pleasure mixed together, driving her toward him. He took her hands, pressing them above her head, pinning her to the bed.
The instant he held her down, she felt her pleasure increase. She lifted up for his thrusts, and he pounded inside her.
She stared into his eyes and as he moved, they both looked to see his cock disappearing within her. His dick wet from her own arousal.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited? How long I’ve wanted to be close to you?”
There were no answers because they both knew the truth. She didn’t have the first freaking clue about what was going on between them.
He sped up his thrusts and she felt another orgasm coming. This one wasn’t as intense as the first, but it was up there. Preacher pulled out of her and lifted her ass up. She watched him as he put his mouth on her pussy and began to lick and suck at her. He circled her clit, slid down to her entrance, and she closed her eyes as he began to fuck her with his tongue.
She gripped the sheet beneath her, trying to find anything that would keep her grounded. Of course there was nothing close by, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to be grounded. With the magical use of his tongue, she wanted to fly and no longer stay still.
He drew his tongue back up, going to her clit, sucking on it hard before going back down.
Robin begged him to let her come, but Preacher, he had her dripping. Her arousal leaked out, going down her crack, but she wasn’t afraid. No, it only served to make her hungrier for more.
“Please, please,” she said.
“Come for me.”
He finally sucked, flicked her clit, driving her to a third or fourth orgasm. She couldn’t remember which one as she’d lost count. The moment her orgasm hit, Preacher pushed her to the bed, spread her legs, and fucked her hard. Her release kept on going, milking his cock as he fucked her harder. The pleasure made her wild, and she scored her nails down his back, begging for more.
When he came, she watched as he let go, filling her with his cum until he finally fell against her, completely spent. They were both panting.
Lifting up, she saw he still had his jeans around his ankles and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, that didn’t take long.”
“With you, it never will.” He kissed her again, hard, and she knew this was what she wanted. This was what she failed to have with Bishop, and nothing was ever going to take her away from Preacher again.
****
“Tell me about your family,” Robin said a couple of hours later. They’d moved to his bed, and both of them were naked. Preacher had made love to her a second time, and he’d fed her. So far, no more panic attacks, and he’d already spoken to Bear for him not to worry again.
Still no sign of Bishop, but his son would turn up eventually. His main priority was to find Reaper and his MC. The moment he dealt with them, Bishop wouldn’t be a problem.
Would he kill his own son?
He stared down Robin’s back, catching sight of the Reaper tattoo marking her skin.
Yeah, he really would. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe. He’d already failed once, and he wouldn’t fail again.
“I don’t have any family.”
“Did I know anything about your parents or your life before my amnesia?”
“No. You didn’t know anything.”
“Why not?”
“There was nothing to tell. My family, they weren’t good people.”
“Does this mean they’re dead?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry, or even pity me. They’re not worth either emotion.”