He dared.
He was big enough that he had to force it a little, each inch spreading me so wide that I thought I might break in half. And when I squirmed underneath him, the real Dom came out at last, his legs easily pinning mine and his hand capturing both my wrists to secure above my head. His other hand came down and pressed my face to the side, baring my throat for his nips and my ear for his filthy, intoxicating words.
“I can’t wait to play with you,” he breathed, his hips moving in slow, grinding thrusts that left me seeing stars. “I’ll have you on your knees for my cock. I’ll have you on all fours scrubbing my floor with your cunt exposed and waiting. I’ll cuff your ankle to my desk and keep you like a pet while I work.”
“Yes,” I moaned from under his hand. I wanted it, I wanted it all, and I wanted it with him.
“And only when you’ve been so very good and so very helpful will you earn this,” he said, emphasizing his words with a sharp thrust. My toes curled in response. “Only then will I see that you get what you need.”
“And what do I need?” I goaded breathlessly. Partly because it still riled me to have him so cocksure and bossy even as he impaled me with his heavy cock…and partly because it aroused me beyond belief to have this cocksure and bossy man fucking me into his desk like a sailor on his first night of shore leave.
I expected him to say something filthy. I expected him to scold me or shove his fingers in my mouth for my impertinence.
Instead, his hand moved to take hold of my chin and turned my face up to his. “You need someone,” he said simply, his breath warm on my lips. “You’re not happy alone. You’re not happy rotating anonymous partners at a club. You hate that you want more, that you want something as cliché as a lover, and the more you hate it, the more you fight it. But it never stops being true.”
I closed my eyes for minute, not able to handle his steady gaze and his words at the same time.
“Am I wrong, Corabel?” he asked gently.
“No,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “You’re not wrong.”
I’d forgotten this part too. That kink wasn’t just about clubs or concepts that gave you frissons of sinful, dirty delight. It was about trusting another human to see the inside of you and give you what you need. It was about doing the same for them.
Mark leaned down and bit lightly at my jaw. “Then let me be your someone and give you what you need.”
I opened my eyes. “And what do you need?” I asked.
“To be your someone,” he said without hesitation or shame. “I’ve needed it since the moment I met you.”
There were no more words after that. He collared my throat with his hand, his body huge and heavy and still clothed over mine, and clearly Mark had never heard that a gentleman should take his weight on his hands, because he made sure that I felt all the weight and strength of him, made sure that all of his effort went into grinding and stroking and stretching me rather than holding himself up. He buried himself deep enough that his tip kissed places in my belly, and he angled himself so that every stroke rubbed my clit. The tensing muscles of his arms and thighs pressed against me; even through our clothes, I could feel the steel flex and bunch of his abdomen as his body moved to couple with mine.
For a preacher, he sure fucked like a god.
I felt it in my thighs first, a slow tightening clench that spread to my belly, cradling the singing sensation in my cunt between them. And I was going to ask for permission, I really was, but Mark felt it too, giving the corner of my mouth a kiss. “You may,” he said, without me having to ask.
And then I came.
Everything seemed to ball together and then fly outwards, seizing ripples of delicious feeling, the contractions so strong that Mark’s pace faltered and he stilled over me, muttering to himself. And it felt like he was everywhere as I came—I was full of him and under him and being held by him, and it was just him. Him, him, him, this cocky preacher I thought I hated.
He claimed my mouth in a torrid kiss as my climax drifted into stillness, and our eyes locked in a heat of blue need as he gave a final push and then filled me with his release, throbbing and pumping until I was full of him and he was empty of everything except satisfaction.
“Corabel,” he murmured as his orgasm left him. “Good God. Corabel.”
He gave me a final kiss and then climbed off his desk, leaving me limp and dazed and…well, grateful. It wasn’t just the sex—which was the best I’d had…ever—it was the connection. It was that he’d respectfully and almost shyly asked if I wanted to play with him, it was that he listened to me, it was that he wanted the same things. It was that he’d wanted me and wanted to be my someone.
He came back to the desk with a box of tissues and helped me clean up, only tending to himself after he was satisfied that I was comfortable and clean.
“You know I’m not 24/7, right?” I asked him.
He glanced at me. “I might have guessed,” he said dryly.
“Okay, good. I only like kink in bed, and just because I like playing with domestic servitude does not mean I want to be a model preacher’s wife and teach Sunday school and bake brownies and—”
He helped me to sitting and then kissed me to shut me up.
“I like you as you are, fiery girl,” he said after he pulled away, leaving me breathless and bit stunned. “I don’t want you any other way. Even if it means you argue with me at every single staff meeting. Even if it means you give me that look every time I walk by you.”
I sputtered, “You’re the one with a look! You scowl every time you walk past my desk!”
He laughed, and the sound was so foreign that it surprised the indignation right out of me. “I’m not scowling at you,” he explained, his face still smiling and relaxed. “Scowling at myself. You see, it’s not good for a preacher to get hard every time he walks past a certain church employee…”
Oh. Oh.
I blushed, thinking about all those scowls and what I now knew they meant. “I see.”
He laughed again. “I bet you do.” He took my hand and guided it down to his penis, which was already hardening again.
I licked my lips. “I don’t have any plans tonight. You could always take me back to your place and make sure I really see.”
The swagger was back as he grabbed his car keys, pulled his office blinds open to make sure the parking lot was empty, and then swung me easily over his shoulder.
I squealed, but I was laughing too, and the Reverend Doctor Mark Trade swaggered all the way out to his car with me as his captive, and I stayed his captive long, long, long into the night.
Until dawn, actually. Until the cock crowed.
About the Author
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.
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Also by Sierra Simone
Misadventures: Misadventures with a Professor (Coming November 2018)
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The American Queen Trilogy: American Queen American Prince
American King
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The Priest Series: Priest Midnight Mass: A Priest Novella Sinner
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Co-Written with Laurelin Paige Porn Star Hot Cop
The Markham Hall Series: The Awakening of Ivy Leavold The Education of Ivy Leavold The Punishment of Ivy Leavold The Reclaiming of Ivy Leavold
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The London Lovers: The Seduction of Molly O’Flaherty The Persuasion of Molly O’Flaherty The Wedding of Molly O’Flaherty
Preorder for next book: ? Kindle
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Chocolate and Cockup
(A Chocolate Lovers Bonus Scene)
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Bonus scene from Tara Sivec's Chocolate Lovers series. The crazy gang is back and they're wreaking havoc on a retirement community!