Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I start backing up, stopping when I hit the wall on the other side of the small space. “Calder—”
“No. I know it took effort. I know it hurts you to pretend. To listen to their whispers. I know that you hate not being in control.” He’s close now, so close I can feel his body heat rolling off him and into me.
“I thought coming here would help me, but all it did was leave me confused.”
He cups my bruised cheek with surprising gentleness. “You’ll sort it out. Right now, everything is fragile and new and difficult to navigate. Eventually, it’ll get easier.”
“It doesn’t feel like it’s going to get easier.”
“Why don’t you let me help you feel something else right now?”
My heart pounds in my chest. “What?”
“I want to taste you.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Been thinking about it all morning. All through that bullshit sermon. All through you lying to everyone about being happy. I need to taste you, Saint. Need to remind us both why we’re doing this. It’s all I could think about from the second I saw you in that fucking prim and proper dress.”
“We’re in a church,” I breathe.
“I know.” He smiles, dark and wicked. “Makes it better, doesn’t it? The preacher’s daughter getting her pussy eaten in God’s house.”
The crude words send heat pooling low in my belly despite everything. Despite the tears still wet on my face. Despite the fact that we’re literally standing in my father’s church.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, wife.” His other hand grips my hip, fingers digging in possessively. “And even if it was, it wouldn’t change anything. You’re still going to let me taste that pretty pussy. Because you need this as much as I do.”
He’s not wrong. I hate that he’s not wrong.
“Someone could come in,” I protest weakly.
“Door’s locked.” He drops to his knees in front of me, and the sight of Calder Bishop kneeling sends a shock through my system. “And you’re going to be very, very quiet. Aren’t you, Saint?”
His hands slide up under my dress, finding the waistband of my underwear. I should stop him. Should push him away. Should remember that this is a sacrilege of the highest order.
But I don’t.
Instead, I watch as he pulls my underwear down my legs and helps me step out of them. Watch as he drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me completely.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on me.
The first touch of his tongue makes my knees buckle. Only his grip on my hips keeps me upright, pinned against the shelves as he works me with his mouth. He’s not gentle about it. Not reverent. He devours me like a man starving, tongue and lips and teeth combining in ways that make my vision blur.
I bite down hard on my fist to keep from crying out. The storage room is not soundproof. Anyone in the hallway could hear. My father could hear.
The thought should horrify me. Instead, it adds an edge of forbidden pleasure that makes everything more intense.
Calder’s tongue circles my clit, then flattens against me, applying pressure that makes my hips jerk. His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me still as he works. One hand slides up under my dress, palm spreading across my stomach, feeling every tremor that runs through me.
“Calder,” I gasp, forgetting to be quiet. “Oh God—”
He pulls back just enough to look up at me, chin glistening, eyes dark with lust. “No.” His voice is rough. “You know what I want, Saint.”
Then his mouth is on me again, more intense than before. His tongue pushes inside me, fucking me with it while his nose grinds against my clit. The sensation is overwhelming, obscene, perfect.
My free hand tangles in his dark hair, holding him against me even as I try to stay quiet. Every nerve ending is on fire. Every breath comes shorter than the last.
He adds his fingers, two of them sliding into me while his mouth focuses on my clit. The stretch burns slightly. I’m still not used to this, to being touched this way. But the burn fades quickly into something else. Something that builds and builds until I’m shaking.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me. “Come for me, Saint. Come in your father’s church while I eat your pretty pussy.”
The filthy words combined with the relentless pressure of his mouth push me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me like a wave, stealing my breath, making spots dance in my vision. I bite down harder on my fist, tasting blood, doing everything I can to stay silent. All that escapes is what he asked for, a whisper of his name. “Calderrrr.”
Calder works me through it, tongue gentling as the aftershocks roll through me. When I finally go limp against the shelves, he pulls back, carefully lowering my leg from his shoulder.