Page 61 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“Say it.” His demand is soft enough to hurt.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“I don’t hate you.”

He smiles. “I don’t hate you, too.”

Twenty-One

Mercy

Cisco tilts my jaw up and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is chaste, soft, and brief.

“You have earned a little more, but first—” He takes my hands and holds my palms before my face. “Spit.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

There’s no going back for me, so I wet both palms. He kisses the top of my head and returns to standing. His cock is now glistening, angry, and so hard it almost curves to his belly.

“More,” he grunts, pointing at my hands. “Molto wet.”

I gather saliva in my mouth and coat my palms with a thick, clear ribbon, never breaking eye contact. He watches, then drags my joined prayer hands up to the height of my mouth. There, he creates a tunnel by pressing the heels of my palms together and curling my fingers.

“Keep them tight.” He pushes his shaft through my palms, inch by inch, until the edge of my hands bumps against my lips, and the head of his cock slips into my mouth.

I groan at the taste.

He cups my hands with his and presses, increasing the tactile pressure on his shaft. He releases a sharp exhale through his nose and mutters, “Sì, così.”

Yes, like that.

Cisco starts rocking his hips back and forth, cock sliding in and out of my mouth, using my prayer pose as guard rails to avoid choking me.

“You have no idea,” he says, “how much I have wanted you like this.”

The friction is perfect. The weight of him, the wet glide of heat, the pulse. He uses my hands and my lips as a vise, slowly thrusting through them. Never too deep. Never too much. Just slow, steady, relentless.

“I think you have wanted this too,” he groans out.

My jaw is killing me, but I don’t care. I want more and growl my muffled complaint.

Sweat breaks on his temple, running down to his jaw. “Is this still too slow for you, piccola?”

If I say yes, he might go slower.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

We’re running out of time. One of my hands jerks out of prayer position, hikes my dress up, and dives between my thighs. I rub my clit through my panties, slick and responsive. Pleasure shoots through me, and tiny, helpless noises slip out.

“Hands back up.” He yanks free of my mouth, brows slamming down. “You want to try me?”

I glare, refusing to stop touching myself. “You’re being soft. Break me. I can take it.”

He jerks my hands back to my lips and feeds me his cock in a single push. I relax for the intrusion, loving the stretch, the ache, the humiliation.

He fucks my mouth with short, controlled thrusts, still using my hands and lips as a bumper. It drives me insane.

The next time he thrusts in, I grab his hips and force him deep into my throat. I don’t stop until my lips hit his pubic bone and he gasps, “Cazzo!”