Her full-body shiver vibrated her hard nipples against my chest, and for one insane second, I wished we were skin to skin.
“Take off your clothes,” Bea begged. “I want to feel you.”
“Right now, I’m the one feelin’ you,” I assured her with a twist of my fingers in her clutching pussy.
She rewarded me with a groan but then shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Her little hands went up to my chest and pushed slightly. “No, Priest, please. We’ve been together three times, and I’ve never been able to really touch you. I want…well, I want to see what you look like.”
“My body,” I drawled, reading the blush in her cheeks. “Or my cock?”
That blush deepened and spread to her chest so that even her nipples flushed. I tweaked one hard with my forefinger and thumb just to watch her writhe.
“My cock,” I confirmed. “Fine, you wanna see it? Get on your knees for me.”
“H-here?” she asked, eyes blown wide.
“Here.” I arched a brow when she hesitated. “You want my dick, be a good girl for me and get. On. Your. Knees. Wanna see you worship me like you worship at your church. Wanna see how prettily you corrupt for me.”
With a trembling mouth and eyes gone to black with desire, Bea let out a soft, sweet sigh and sank sinuously to her knees on the tile. Instantly, my cock kicked against its confines, the heat of precum leaking from my tip.
“Take it out,” I said, my voice rough, so animal it was hard to make out.
But she got me.
Her small hands trembled like pale birds as she fumbled with my belt, then my fly, the harsh rasp of the zipper discernable even over the music and the water.
“Oh,” she whispered when she found I wasn’t wearing anything beneath the denim.
She looked up at me then, those big eyes so blue under those spiky black lashes. I grinned at her, a feral, menacing smile to remind her that I was more beast than man. I watched a swallow move hard through her slim neck as she bent back to her task, fingers reaching into the fold of cloth to wrap gently, so gently, around my throbbing cock and pull it delicately into the open.
We both watched as it pulsed in her tender hold, an angry red, the crown so deep a purple, so swollen with blood it looked like a perfect plum aimed at her lush, slightly parted mouth. It was not a pretty cock, nothing that suited the pretty girl on her knees for me. It was thick enough to stretch her lips too wide, to ache in her jaw if she took me too long or too deep. It was ribboned with prominent veins and long enough not to fit in both of her hands.
She held it like a weapon she didn’t have the first clue how to use, but the salacious curiosity in her gaze as she devoured the sight of me said she was all too eager to learn.
The base of my spine prickled and tightened, balls drawing up as I thought about how I was going to ruin that pretty, inexperienced mouth.
“Lick it,” I directed her, my voice the only cold thing in the steamy enclosure.
Slowly, she leaned forward to press a little pursed-lip kiss to the tip.
She moved back again, her pink tongue dipping out to taste me on her lips. “Oh,” she said before smiling up at me. “You taste good.”
A growl rumbled through me as my resolve to go slow cracked down the middle. “You wanna make me feel good?”
“More than anything.”
“Hands behind your back,” I ordered as I stepped closer, one hand fisting in the ropes of her wet hair while the other held the blunt end of my cock to her lips. “Open that sweet mouth, now, Bea. I’m gonna fuck your face, and I’m not gonna hold back, you get me?”
In response, she looked up at me and deliberately opened her mouth wide so I could place my dick on her tongue. I slapped it there once, twice, then slipped it deeper into her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned all around me.
To look at Bea was to think instantly of sunshine. She was everything sweet and light, from the tip of her curled cloud of golden hair to the feminine little dresses she wore all in whites and pastels. Her voice was a light lilt, musical enough to seem like the song of the Fae in the Irish hills, and when she laughed, it was just as beguiling.
The broken hardwiring of my brain compelled me to corrupt her, to bruise that peachy skin, bite the sweet line of that neck brutally until it bloomed, then grip all that hair so tightly she cried.
She would look even more beautiful, I always thought each time she smiled, if she had tears adorning those smooth cheeks like jewels.