PREACHER MAN

Jessa Kane

Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane

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CHAPTER ONE

Mila

Mama says I’ve got the devil in me and she must be right.

Because I can feel the eyes watching me through my bedroom window, out there in the backwoods Mississippi darkness and most girls would scream and call for their daddies to get their rifle. Not me, though.

Never met my daddy, either.

I take my time reclining back on my narrow twin bed, pretending it’s covered in luxurious silks, instead of a ratty sale-bin comforter with frayed edges. My nightshirt rides up my thighs and I raise my hips, showing my bottom off to the man outside. He comes every Sunday night, like clockwork, to watch me through the window and it’s the highlight of my week.

One afternoon in June, I noticed there was a worn patch of grass outside, beneath my bedroom window. The kind made from the continual treading of feet. A man’s feet. Large ones. And it excited me. Lord it did, even though I should have told my mama and asked her to call the authorities right away. The only kind of man who watches an eighteen-year-old girl through their bedroom window during private moments is most definitely a bad one.

Imagine my surprise when I caught a glimpse of him one night during a full moon. The man lurking outside is one who everyone I know believes to be the best man among us all. A step above the rest. A direct line to God.

The town preacher, Joseph Stark. A man whose very job is to quiet the devil inside his followers, yet he teases Lucifer himself to life inside me. Makes him dance.

His eyes are on me right now and I arch my back, letting the nightshirt drag higher, until it catches around my waist. The blood at my pulse points pumps madly knowing he can see my panties, plain and threadbare though they are. It must excite him to see my barely covered private parts, since he keeps coming back every single Sunday. That mental reminder of his reliability makes any self-consciousness fade to nothing.

There’s only me and the presence outside the window as I cup my breasts and twist my hips around, my breath rattling around in my lungs, sounding so loud in my ears. Look, Daddy. Look your fill.

I told you the devil lived inside me, didn’t I?

Those terrible, twisted thoughts are probably what made me tempt a righteous man. Mama says men are ninety percent animal and no amount of praying or repenting can stop those things between their thighs from standing up, searching for somewhere to…what? I’m not sure. All I know is that lately, down at the water hole, boys have been looking at me strangely, pushing and tugging at their bulging laps. I reckon it’s me that’s the cause. They can sense the devil inside me and know how unfulfilled I am.

So unfulfilled.

The preacher coming to my window is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it cuts loose the wildness living in my bones. Lets me be me. Even if it’s only for a little while. His visits are a curse, too, because they make me hot, itchy, starved—and no matter how I touch myself or pump my hips against my pillow, I can’t seem to get relief. Oh, I kick up a fuss and pretend I’m experiencing the height of pleasure. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing otherwise? To let the man outside know I can’t make the ache go away no matter what I do?

The bad seed inside me has been germinated and grown uncontrollable. Vines wrap around my lungs now, making it hard to breathe as I roll over onto my stomach, lifting my backside in the air and moving it in a slow figure eight pattern.

What is the preacher doing out there?

Is he touching that thing between his legs?

The very idea makes me lightheaded. Joseph is the reverend of our town. A year ago, he arrived and built a small church on the edge of the woods. Since then, he’s been credited with bringing God to a community that had turned their backs on their creator. Every Sunday, he projects his deep, husky voice, sending it booming out onto the great lawn where his congregation spills out beyond the church doors. Women and men shout halleluiah and raise their hands over his sermons.

And there I sit in the front row, wishing he would take me off into the woods and lay that big body down on top of me. Hard. Press me down into the earth and kiss me. Put his hands on my breasts and take off my panties. Look at me there.

I know it’s wrong. I know it’s bad. He’s a man of God and look what I’ve done. I’ve cast my darkness in his direction and reeled him in. If my mama knew, she’d take the wooden spoon to my backside and bruise me good.

When Joseph Stark came to town, he was just so…other. Quiet, intense, watchful. Different from everyone else. I’d lay odds he’s from a place faraway from Mississippi. A Yankee from up north, perhaps. Up until that first day I saw him behind the pulpit, I’d been spinning crazy tales in my head about the father I never met. Maybe he left to be an astronaut or solve crimes for the FBI.

But when I glimpsed Joseph, I wanted him for my father. Yes, I did.

There was no one better, more powerful or righteous. He could teach me to be a classy lady, make me a God-fearing woman and rub my back when I cried. And so those first few months, I idolized the preacher. Mooned over him from my pew, blushing innocently every time his eyes landed on me. Those dark blue eyes of his started to land on me more and more, though. That’s when I noticed the presence inside me. The awakening. The heaviness in my most private flesh. It bloomed and heated and grew weightier until Joseph became my father figure and the man who touched my body. In my dreams, anyway.

“Daddy,” I whisper now, dropping my pelvis to the bed and grinding down, sobbing in frustration when the ache only deepens. “Please, please…”

Every week, I ask please.

The devil in me is growing tired of asking like this, though. So tired. I don’t know how much more of the pressure between my thighs I can stand before I go stark raving mad. Already I have no ability to concentrate on my chores or the travel books I used to love. My thoughts are consumed with images I don’t understand. Mouths and hands and the preacher’s voice. His body pinning me, those blue eyes piercing my very soul.

Next Sunday is my baptism.

It will be the closest I’ve ever come to the preacher in the daylight. He’ll be forced to put his hands on me to dunk me beneath the water, right there in front of the congregation. Mama thinks the baptism will drive the devil out of me. But I’m not sure anything can.

Mama would agree if she knew my plan.

I should do the right thing. Hang a curtain over my window and stop obsessing over the preacher. I’ve reeled him in with the unholy darkness inside me. I continue to tempt him, reveling in it, even. Cutting him loose would be the Christian thing to do. But there’s a whispering voice in the back of my head telling me his devil wants to dance with mine—and that possibility fills me with an overwhelming breathlessness. What if he’s plagued with the very same darkness?

What if he’s the only one who’ll be able to get rid of my ache?

Jesus help me, I have no choice but to find out. I can’t take it anymore.

With my mouth open on the mattress, I slide a finger under the waistband of my panties and tuck it between my slick lips. Outside, I hear a muffled moan and I almost, almost reach the next height of my need—maybe even relief?—but it dissipates too fast and I choke down a sob. Still, I moan and let my body go limp, as if I’ve found the elusive next level of heaven. The throb between my legs remains.

Seven days until Sunday.

Seven more days.

CHAPTER TWO

Joseph

I can feel her coming.

There are four hundred people attempting to shoehorn themselves inside this fucking church and yet my blood changes direction when I hear the parking break of her mother’s station wagon. Pretending to study my sermon while everyone finds their seats, I picture Mila entering the church in the same cheap, thin purple dress she wears every week. The one I want to rip off with my bare hands.

I’ve seen her wearing much less through her bedroom window, but the dress…it’s a symbol of the struggle I face every Sunday, trying to concentrate when my body is screaming at me to take the girl. Just give in and take her.

Keep her.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, that would have been considered kidnapping.

What would my congregation think of me if they knew how I spend my Sunday nights? If they knew I park on the border of her mother’s property behind a copse of trees and cut through the darkness to Mila’s window, jacking myself dry while she humps the bed on the other side of the glass. I can’t stay away. Since that first day she walked into my church, I’ve been drawn to her like a bee to the sweetest honey and it’s becoming impossible to maintain distance.

Just knowing I’m mere minutes away from seeing Mila has my dick hard as a rock, my balls cinched up tighter than my starched white collar. How I get through Sunday sermons with my erection battling my zipper is a mystery, but somehow I manage. Somehow I manage not to storm the audience, rip Mila away from the safety of her mommy and find a dark corner to inflict my raging lust.

How does she do this to me?

I’m consumed with thoughts of her, day and night.

I’m consumed.

Pasting a serene expression onto my face, I look up from my sermon and spot Mila in the milling crowd, a growl immediately building in my throat. Her long, black hair is down, as usual. A little wild, slightly tangled. Her head is bowed when she walks into the church, but she peeks up at me through her thick bangs with her huge, amber eyes and thorny need stabs me in the gut.

Hello little girl.

That automatic thought makes me look away, mentally commanding myself to put a strangle hold on my sick thoughts.

I’ve never been a good man. But the thoughts I have about Mila go too far.

The life I’ve built in this nowhere town is my safety net. No one from my past would ever think to look for me here. If the guys from my old South Boston neighborhood knew I was lecturing behind a pulpit, they would never believe it. These hands were made for inflicting pain, not for Bible thumping. Which is the exact reason this new identity works so well.

This occupation as town holy roller kind of fell into my lap. I bought a plot of land upon arriving and since my skill sets are limited to firing bullets or swinging a hammer, I decided to build a church, planning to sell it and make a profit. Purely a real estate play, before I moved on to another town. But the locals started asking why I was building a church. Was I a preacher? Did I intend to lead a congregation?

I decided there was no better cover.

Yes, I’m a preacher, I said. Services will begin soon.

And thus, I carved out a place in this world where I’m not constantly anticipating a bullet in the back. However, something tells me if I give into my incessant hunger for Mila, my true identity will be revealed. I’m not a half measures type of man. If I make her mine, I’ll murder anyone who breathes in her direction. I’ll be a possessive, jealous son of a bitch. Worse than that, she’s awoken a new instinct inside of me that I’ve never, ever encountered in my life. When I fantasize about Mila—and it’s an hourly occurrence—I’m being almost…parental toward her. I’m brushing that long, midnight hair while she’s perched on my knee, lecturing her about never leaving the house in short skirts.

Or having an X-rated talk with her about the birds and the bees.

One that usually leads to me lifting the hem of her nightgown and giving her a very detailed demonstration.

Unable to help myself, I reach down and palm my distended cock, my hand blocked from the congregation’s view by the pulpit. Yeah, if I claimed that sweet girl, she’d go screaming to her mama about what I subjected her to. Rightly so. I deserve to have this whole town show up on my doorstep with torches and pitchforks. The man they think walks on water would suddenly be a heathen in their eyes—and their curiosity would be roused. They’d wonder if I’m really who I say I am.

And everything I’ve built could come crashing down.

Yes, beautiful, little Mila could be my downfall. A downfall that becomes more and more dangerously appealing with every passing day. Need her. I need her.

The decreased murmur tells me the congregation is ready for the service to begin and I take one more moment to gather myself, my gaze straying one final time to Mila where she sits in the front row, along with the other people who are scheduled to be baptized this morning. How am I going to touch her without ripping her clothes to shreds? How will I keep myself from mounting her sexy body and rutting her here on the stage?

There’s an intuition prodding me, telling me Mila would welcome my touch. That she needs it. But I know she’s simply at an age where her hormones have kicked in. That’s why she writhes about on the bed, rubbing her innocent pussy on the mattress. She doesn’t know she’s being watched and it’s yet another mark on my black soul that I invade her private moments.

Somehow I must get through the morning without revealing myself.

Somehow I have to put my hands on her for the first time without coming.

One might think a former mafia hit man would have better self control. When it comes to Mila, only Mila, they would be wrong. I slip more and more toward madness with every day that passes without me inside her.

Focus. I tear my attention off the object of my obsession and rest my hands on either side of the podium. “Good morning,” I say to the room, waiting for returned greetings and the echo of my voice to subside before continuing. “Today is very special for three members of our flock. Baptism is not only a cleansing of the soul, it is a testimony to God that you, a believer, will walk in the faith…”

As I go into a long-winded section about John the Baptist, my hands begin to shake with anticipation. Mila’s olive skin looks so soft though her window. What will it feel like against my fingertips? I have to stop several times to clear my throat during the sermon, drinking from the glass of water on my podium to cure my dry mouth, and before I know it, the time has come to baptize Mila and the others, a middle-aged man and wife. Needing more time to compose myself, I call the man and woman on stage one by one, completing the ritual—in which I have no formal training—in minutes, dunking them into the small, in-ground pool that I installed beneath the stage’s floorboards. My loins tighten, everything seeming to move in slow motion, when I turn to Mila and beckon her to the stage.

She moves with such grace that my heart starts a riot. Good lord, she’s the most beautiful creature in this fucking world. I was so wrapped up in my own lust earlier, I didn’t notice her new, light blue shawl. She clutches it tight to her body, but I can still see the mounds of her tits, the swell of her hips. The way she sways that body side to side has me sweating under my collar and I’m so focused on controlling myself, I think I’m dreaming when she reaches me and drops the shawl.

The congregation gives a collective gasp.

Mila is not wearing the purple dress.

No, the only thing covering her is a tiny white slip and it’s so thin, I can see her nipples through the material, hard, dark pink and straining toward me. Between her legs is a slight shadow. An X marks the spot right over her pussy.

She licks her bee-stung lips. “I’m ready, preacher.”

My cock jerks and I nearly ejaculate down the leg of my trousers. It’s everything I can do not to lift Mila, wrap her thighs around my waist and fuck her standing on stage in front of God and everyone. What is she doing? Does she realize what a temptation she is? I cast a quick glance over her shoulder and see the men in the room are riveted by Mila, squirming in their seats. Some of them even leave the room, bent forward at the waist, attempting to hide their erections with the flaps of their dress jackets. They’re running off to find somewhere to jack off thinking about my little girl and I’d like to hunt them all down and slit their throats.

MINE.

I realize I’m bearing my teeth and snap my mouth shut. Prepared to brazen out the ritual, I take Mila by the elbow to guide her toward the pool—but her mother runs on stage in a flurry of hand motions. “I’m so sorry, preacher,” she says in furious whisper, red faced. “I-I had no idea she’d left the house in this get-up. I won’t force you to sully your hands with her.”

Sully my hands? She’s a fucking angel. And I’m already damned to hell for my past sins, but I’ll be damned twice before Mila gets humiliated in front of the entire town. Not even over my dead body will I allow that to happen. She’s only a sweet, young girl who hasn’t yet learned the appeal of her own body. She can’t possibly understand the effect it has on men yet.

“Come with me, you trollop,” Mila’s mother grits out, reaching for Mila.

“Go sit down,” I growl, before catching myself and pasting on a smile. “Everyone is welcome in the house of the Lord.”

“But, preacher…”

Mila and I are already walking toward the miniature pool and every part of me is aching, having this contact with her satiny smooth skin. Being this close to her. I’m doing my best to keep my breathing measured as she kneels down in the water, even though the white slip turns see-through upon touching the water. And now I’m the only one who can see her thighs, her belly button, the sparse collection of curls between her thighs.

Christ.

I go down on my knees beside the pool and brace her shoulders with my right hand. “Take a deep breath, Mila,” I rasp, devouring the sight of her peaked nipples, the burnished gold of her eyes which are locked on me, the hollow of her throat where her pulse beats at a quick tempo. When she complies with an inhale, I lower her backwards until her head is submerged. I don’t like her being deprived of oxygen for even a moment, though, and lift her back up right away, murmuring the correct scripture, even as my mouth waters over the moisture dripping down her neck, soaking the see-through slip and leaving her essentially naked before me.

I can see everything. Every inch of her perfection.

My pants are a torture device, restraining my pounding dick. If we were alone in this church, I would already be shoving myself balls deep inside her cunt, telling her to hold still, little girl.

She has no idea what beast she tempts.

Or does she?

Time seems to move in slow motion as Mila’s attention drops to the arousal at the juncture of my thighs and I watch with growing shock as her pupils dilate and she squeezes her legs together. She worries her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me with worried eyes. “The baptism didn’t work,” she whispers. “I still have the devil inside me, preacher.”

A fist tightens around my throat. “Who told you the devil lives inside you?”

The thin strap of her slip falls down, revealing the swell of her right breast and just a hint of her nipple. “My mama. And now I know it’s true, because I-I…”

We’ve been whispering entirely too long and the congregation is eerily silent behind me, but I can’t look away from her gorgeous face. “Because why?”

She draws her knees up to her chest. “I still want you to touch me.” Her eyelids flutter. “All over, everywhere. I…love tempting you to do it, even though you’ve chosen a path of righteousness. I’m sorry, preacher. I don’t know how to stop.” She bows her head. “I should have hung a curtain over my window and freed you of the devil’s hold.”

My breath freezes in my lungs. “You know I’ve been watching you?”

Mila nods slowly.

“You’ve been putting that show on…for me?” I growl.

Shame flames in her face. “Yes.”

Jesus. Christ. Mila is still very obviously innocent of men, but my fears that she’d be disgusted—or worse, terrified—by what I want to do to her appear to have been wrong. She’s back to looking at my hard cock and writhing her hips in the water. My little girl is horny. For me. I have no choice but to make her mine now.

YES. I MUST.

As soon as that fact solidifies in my head, my lust hits a crescendo and I can feel my past self leapfrogging my present. For a year, I haven’t touched a drink or inflicted violence. Women became a thing of the past the moment I laid eyes on Mila and she became the sole object of my starvation. Perhaps depriving myself of all my vices is the reason I’m suddenly rife with need so strong, I have to grit my teeth from the pain and pressure between my legs.

Mila obviously interprets my pained expression for irritation and starts to stand, but I catch her shoulders and keep her in a seated position. “Don’t get up yet.” I take off my black, waist-length jacket and hold it up, blocking her from the congregation. As soon as Mila stands, I wrap it around her near-nakedness and scoop her up, cradling her in my arms. “God’s children,” I say, turning to address the rapt audience. “It appears one our flock has been deeply affected by this holy ritual. The Lord has chosen her as a direct channel for His grace this morning. Please allow me some time to counsel her and make sense of this gift she’s been given. We will resume the service shortly.”

I only catch a glimpse of Mila’s mother’s correctly suspicious expression before I turn and stride off stage, hooking a right into one of the back offices. Confused voices rise in the church behind us, growing louder, but I don’t give a shit what they think. I need to be alone with Mila. I need to get my fucking hands on her.

And that total disregard for the consequences is dangerous.

With my breath rattling in my ears, I set Mila on her feet inside my office, close the door and strip the coat away, tossing it aside. She starts to cover her nakedness until she gets a good look at my face. Whatever she sees there causes her to arch her back and present her wet, little tits to me. “You have the devil, too,” she breathes. “Don’t you, preacher?”

I grasp her chin and lift it. “Several of them,” I say, backing her up against the door and finally, finally pressing our bodies together. Groaning. “You, however, don’t have a single one. You’re sweet and precious in every way.”

Her golden eyes melt and this is exactly how I’ve been dreaming of her looking up at me. Like I’m her number one hero. The man in her life who makes everything better. “But I make that part between your legs hard,” she whispers. “And I like doing it.” A blush stains her cheeks. “I like rolling around on my bed knowing you can see me.”

A warm trickle of come shoots out of my cock and slides down my inner thigh. “That’s because your body needs mine, little girl. That’s perfectly natural.”

A moan leaves Mila and she sways. “I like when you call me that.”

I press our foreheads together and peel down the straps of her slip, baring her pretty, pink-tipped tits. Palming them gently. “Little girl.”

She shudders almost violently and I have no choice but to snare her mouth in a kiss. It’s meant to cherish, to soothe, to reassure Mila that there isn’t a single evil thing about her. But her taste is a shot of adrenaline to my system. My entire being recognizes the female it has been hungering for and responds, my dick swelling to the point of agony, my tongue licking into her mouth and devouring. Before I know my own intentions, I’m gripping her juicy, little ass cheeks, lifting her up and flattening her against the wall, tongue fucking her with no mercy, imprinting her incredible taste and texture on my brain forever.

“You wore this scrap of nothing to tease me, didn’t you?” I growl, ripping my mouth away so I can see her face when I thrust my cock into the notch of her thighs. Watching Mila’s eyes roll into the back of her head, feeling her legs begin to shake, I do it again and press my mouth to her ear. “You knew you’d break me.”

“I hoped so,” she hiccupped, her knees digging into my ribs. “I’ve been hurting so bad.”

“Shhh. I’m going to make it all better.” I lick my way through the hollow of her throat, using my hold on her bottom to ride her up and down my cock. “I’m going to fuck the ache away every day for the rest of your life.”

Her gasp brings my head up. “You said the F word, preacher,” she says in a hushed tone, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re not who everyone thinks you are. Are you?”

After the barest hesitation, I shake my head. “No.” My hips press her tighter to the door, pushing against the cushion of her pussy until she whimpers. “You came here to break me, but I’ve been broken for a year. I would have murdered any man in this town who tried to touch you. You’ve been mine—and that was before I knew you’ve been shaking your sweet ass for me every Sunday. I’ve busted so many times against the side of your house, I’ve worn the paint off.” I capture her mouth in a hard kiss. “There’s no changing your mind now, Mila. You’re mine.”

There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Uh, preacher?” An elderly female voice calls through the door. One of the more involved members of my congregation. “The tents we rented for the bake sale have to be returned by two pm. I don’t want to rush your counseling session—what a miracle!—but, um…if we don’t finish the service soon, I don’t know if we’ll be able to sell off all the pies by the time—”

“I’ll be right out,” I call, tight lipped.

Mila’s pussy is so drenched, she’s starting to soak through my pants and I need to bury myself inside her so badly, I can barely maintain my sanity. But I’m not taking her virginity with a quickie, then leaving her here while I finish my sermon. It’s not happening. No, she needs to be stroked and praised and spoiled afterwards. I’m going to see it done, come hell or high water.

“Will you wait here for me?” I ask quietly, kissing her hairline. “I’ll finish the service and then I’ll bring you straight home.”

“To your house?” Mila asks hopefully.

Is she eager to see my home? Or is she reluctant to go back to hers? The latter gives me pause and I resolve to question her about it later. “Yes, my house.” I ease my tongue into her mouth and draw it in and out, slowly, again and again, until she’s restless, squirming between me and the door. It hurts like hell, but I set her down, plant a kiss her forehead and step back. “Wait right here for me.”

“I’d wait forever,” she murmurs, watching me back through the door a moment later.

And I think she would have.

If she’d been given a choice.

CHAPTER THREE

Mila

As soon as the door closes behind the preacher, I throw my arms around myself and squeal, spinning madly around the office. Am I dreaming or did the man of my dreams just promise me forever? When I woke up this morning, I was determined to crack the preacher’s exterior, to push him into a reaction when I was standing right in front of him in the flesh…but I never expected him to be so loving.

I slide my hands up my cheeks and bury my fingers in my hair, messing it around, unable to wipe the delirious smile off my face.

You’re sweet and precious in every way.

My breasts tingle at the memory of him touching me there, gently but with total possession. He called me little girl. He called me the name I’ve imagined him saying to me in the dark so many times.

“He doesn’t think I’m wicked at all,” I whisper in awe, throwing my arms wide and twirling in a circle—

I come to an abrupt stop when I see my mother standing just outside the office window, her face pinched with disgust. Did she see me kissing the preacher? No, I would have noticed her before. That’s just her default expression. Why is she here and not sitting in our usual pew, listening to the rest of the sermon?

Hesitantly, I sidle toward the window and open it slightly. “Hi, mama.”

It’s only when she gives me a once over and breathes the word slut, do I realize I’m still in my slip, the water having made it transparent. As quickly as possible, I cross my arms over my chest, just in time for my mother to reach through the window and wrap her fist in my long hair.

“‘Direct channel to His grace,’ my left foot,” she sneers. “Get out here, you little tramp. We’re going home.”

“No!” I dig my fingers into the windowsill but it’s too late, she’s yanking me through the opening and I’m crashing to the ground, rapping my head on the earth. I try to scramble to my feet and run, but I’m too dizzy and…and I can only stumble blindly behind my mother as she drags me toward the station wagon.

“If you open your mouth, I’ll belt it shut, do you understand me?”

“Yes, mama,” I sob, casting a longing glance toward the church.

“You were always a willful child. Daydreaming when you were supposed to be doing schoolwork or chores. Maturing way too early, like you’d been sent straight from the devil—”

“No mama, you’re wrong. The preacher told me—”

Her backhand catches me across the mouth and I’m too stunned, my ears ringing too loudly, to do anything but let her push me into the backseat of the station wagon. “If the preacher told you something different, it’s because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Now you listen to me, young lady,” my mother says, her eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror. “I’ve already been forced to endure the humiliation of two husbands leaving me behind. You will not embarrass this family any further, do you understand? Naked in front of the preacher—I’ve never seen the like. It’s over for you. Starting today.” She shakes her head and revs the engine of the car, pulling out onto the dirt road leading to the main junction. “How am I going to show my face in church again after the stunt you pulled?”

“I’m sorry, mama. Please just let me go back.”

“Why? So you can harass that poor, God-fearing man? No ma’am. We’ll be lucky if he agrees to come over and perform the exorcism on you.” My mouth drops open, but she only nods. “I plan to call him soon as we get home and tie you up.”

Stars wink in front of my eyes and blackness hits.

Next time I wake up, my mother is tying my wrists to my metal bedframe, muttering about heathenism and this country’s youth being oversexed thanks to the television. One of my wrists is already bound and I can tell from the painful bite of the rope that attempting to free myself is futile. I try anyway, Joseph’s name sticking in my throat in the form of a wretched sob. I want to ask if she called the preacher to come perform an exorcism yet, but I don’t want to come across overeager, lest she cancel the idea and I don’t get to see him. The man who kissed me so tenderly.

What if mama was right, though?

What if the preacher was only being nice by telling me I don’t have the devil inside me? Isn’t mama always ranting about how men will say anything to make women lay with them? Maybe I tempted him so terribly with my wicked ways that he turned into a lying sinner—and it’s all my fault.

Tears fill my eyes and the fight goes out of me. My mother leaves the room and I see her pacing back and forth in front of my bedroom, phone pressed to her ear. “Why won’t he answer?” She screeches. “This is an emergency!”

Shame swamps me and I turn my face toward the window, unable to witness her disgust with me a second longer.

The sound of screeching tires makes me stop breathing.

Is it the preacher? Did my mother get a hold of him?

If he comes in here and performs an exorcism on me, I don’t know if my heart will be able to stand it. I don’t want proof he thinks I’m a bad seed.

An engine cuts out in front of my house.

Silence falls, briefly. Then there’s a jarring crash at the front of the house. The door being kicked open? Boot steps move purposefully across the floorboards toward my room and I see my mother backing down the hallway, laughing nervously.

“Preacher, thank the almighty Lord you’ve come.” She points a shaking finger into my bedroom. “I hope you brought your Bible because this one needs the demons driven out. Her feminine wiles are out of control. Why, I’ve even heard rumors she’s got the local boys worked up. I’m sure they won’t be held off any longer—”

“I dare them to try.”

Did that cold, raspy voice really belong to the preacher?

Again, my mother laughs nervously. “W-well thank you kindly for coming, preacher. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Scotch.”

A pause. “Oh…well sure. I’ll fix that right up for you, while you get ready.”

My breath catches in my throat when Joseph’s tall form fills the doorway and he looks nothing like the town holy man. No, the look in his eyes when he sees me tied to the bed is decidedly hellish. A muscle snaps in his cheek and he seems mighty close to ripping off the doorframe. Because I made him forsake his faith back in the church office? Yes, that must be it. He looks so livid.

“I take it you didn’t leave my office your own accord, Mila?”

I shake my head slowly.

“If I’d known what was happening in this house, I would have come much sooner,” bites the preacher, blue fire igniting in his eyes.

“Well, I would have told you, only…” says my mother, joining him in the doorway and handing him a glass of amber liquid. “I thought the baptism might drive out the devil. It’s not your fault, preacher. Mila’s evil is more firmly rooted than most. Her father was the same. Left me high and dry with that hellion in my belly.”

“Leave us.” Joseph turns his blue eyed fury on my mother and she stumbles out of view. “Let me do my job.”

“Of c-course,” babbles my mother, her footsteps receding. “Y-yes, preacher.”

Me and Joseph stare at each other as the front door slams and silence reigns.

He kicks the entrance to my bedroom shut and walks slowly toward the bed. Oh God, he’s going to try and exorcise me. He said so himself that he has a job to do. Oh, my heart, it’s ripping into a hundred pieces. The man of my dreams thinks I’m evil. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, pulling at my bonds. “I’m sorry I tempted you in a place of worship. I’m sorry I made you forsake your faith.”

“Mila.”

Tears roll down my temples. “Yes, preacher?”

I think Joseph is going to sip his scotch, but instead he holds the glass to my mouth. “Drink, baby girl.”

After I’ve done as I’m told and the burn in my sternum has calmed me some, Joseph sets the drink on my side table. Then he reaches down and brushes away my tears with his thumb. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing and stay away from you, I missed the horror you’ve been living with.” His lips peel back from his teeth. “Who could treat my sweet angel like this?” The lump in his throat slides up and down, his fists becoming shaking fists. “Have any of the local boys touched you?”

“No. I’ve been staying inside lately, except for church.” Hope has snuck into my tone. He called me his sweet angel. Is it too much to hope for that everything he said to me in the office was true? I want to so badly, especially when Joseph exhales a pent up breath and rasps thank fuck. But I want to be positive I’m not going to ruin the preacher, so when he reaches over my head to untie me, I shake my head. “Maybe you should wait to untie me preacher. Make sure I’m not going to tempt you down a dark path first.”

His soft laugh is incredulous. “I’ve been down every dark path this world has to offer. You’re the opposite, little girl. You’re the path of light. That’s part of the reason why I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance.”

“What’s the other reason?” I ask breathlessly, my nipples turning to tight peaks at the endearment.

Joseph grows short of breath watching it happen. “Apart from you being a teenager?” He skims his palm up my inner thigh, tracing the edge of my panties with his middle fingers. “I’m a very bad man underneath this starched Sunday shirt, Mila. I’ve managed to lay low and adopt this new way of life. But one taste of your mouth and the man I’ve been hiding is already trying to break free.”

“Maybe I am a bad seed, then,” I whisper, my lower lip shaking.

“No, Mila. No, you just call the real man inside me, like nothing else in this town. Like nothing else anywhere on this damn earth.” He dips his head and breathes harshly against my mouth. “Unfortunately that real man is a bastard. And you’ve woken up his jealousy, lust and violence. It’s not your fault, little girl. It’s fate. I don’t know how long I can pretend to be a holy man when I’ve given in and taken what’s mine. I’m going to be like a dog with a fucking bone.”

I tip my face up, begging without words for him to kiss me. “Will you tell me who you really are, preacher?”

“Yes.” He traces my cheeks, forehead and lips with his open mouth, his eyes pinched shut. “Yes, I’ll bare my soul to you, Mila. No one else.”

Oh no. With Joseph touching me, the ache down in my core is worse than ever. There’s a string inside me pulled tighter than fishing wire and I’m wet, so wet that my thighs are turning slippery and I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where it leads. “Will you help me figure out what’s wrong with me?” I gasp, my whole body trembling head to toe as Joseph runs a knuckle down the center of my secret place. “I’m so restless a-and hot,” I heave, twisting in my bonds. “Nothing I do makes the horrible throb go away.”

His dark brows snap together. “You haven’t come before, Mila?”

I shake my head miserably.

“God, Mila. I can’t stand knowing that.” With a vile, muffled curse, Joseph releases the top button of his shirt and pulls at his collar. It’s the first time I’ve seen his throat and I swear I glimpse a swirl of ink beneath a layer of sweat, but I’m burning with a wild fire and can’t be sure it isn’t my fevered mind playing tricks on me. “There’s nothing wrong with you. What did I tell you at the church? Your body needs mine, little girl. I’m your cure. And you’re mine.” He reaches above my head. “I’m going to make it all better, but I can’t stand to see you tied up anymore.”

“Will you please leave me tied?” I blurt, before I know my own mind. “I can’t explain why it’s different having you here and…not being able to get free. Only that it feels so good to trust you. I want to bare my soul to you, too,” I finish in a whisper.

Joseph leans down and captures my mouth in a hard, seeking kiss. “You were made for me, Mila,” he grates when he pulls away. My chest shudders up and down as Joseph stands and moves to the end of the bed. He leans down and hooks his finger in the waistband of my panties, tugging them down my thighs, knees, calves, ankles…before dropping them to the floor. I’ll never be able to explain this moment. Having Joseph look at my bare womanhood and not being able to hide myself, even if I wanted to. The lack of power is wonderful and sends a feminine thrill rushing through my body. What’s he going to do with me?

Anything he wants.

More moisture coats my thighs under Joseph’s watchful blue eyes and he groans, falling to his knees on the floor, lunging forward on his elbows to lick me straight up the center. A scream catches in my throat, my vision wavering. H-he licked me. There. A sensation I’ve never known gathers in my middle, a storm full of thunderheads preparing to break. And that’s before Joseph finds that secret nub at the very top of my flesh—I never thought to look that high—batting it with his tongue, before lightly sucking. Then he’s alternating between the gentle suction and rolling the flat of his tongue over me, side to side, teasing it with quick, little flickers.

“Oh my God,” I scream, my head thrashing side to side on the pillow, wrists yanking at the bonds. “My God, my God, my God.”

“Sounds like you’re doing a great job in there, preacher,” my mother calls from the other side of the door. “She’s already calling out to her maker. You’ll get the devil out of her yet.”

Joseph doesn’t seem to care that my mother is listening on the other side of the door, because he presses my knees wide on the bed, the pink folds of my femininity blooming open for his blessed tongue. His expression is almost feral as he licks the gloss off my thighs, savoring it like communion, his nostrils flaring, fingers tightening on my knees like he can’t help it. And then he goes back in for more, tucking his tongue inside my opening and wiggling it around until my back arches off the bed. “I’ll do anything,” I holler, not even sure what I’m asking for. “Please, please. I’ll do anything.”

“Pray!” My mother calls from the hallway. “Pray for your life.”

“Jesus save me. Jesus,” I babble, my legs wrapping around Joseph’s head, hips twisting to combat the unbearable pressure between my thighs. “Oh, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Joseph moans into a thorough lick, the pupils of his eyes having bled into the blue irises, making them totally black. Sweat dots his brow, his big shoulders heaving. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it’s the preacher licking me in my most private place. And now he’s using the V of his fingers to open me up even more, pressing until I can see the pink bud from my position on the pillow, can see his tongue taptaptap it, then lave it like a fiend, his expression nothing short of beastly. It’s the last straw. My body explodes like an atom bomb, my senses shooting out in five directions, that wire inside me snapping, finally finally snapping.

My scream brings pain to my own ears, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop rubbing my convulsing flesh all over Joseph’s tongue, can’t stop my legs from trying to gather him closer. All the while, he’s snarling and lapping at me, the lower half of his face covered in my essence.

The door opens to my left and my mother gapes at the scene we create, her hands flying up to clutch at her throat. “Oh dear lord. Preacher. Look what she’s done to you.”

He looks over at my mother and slowly drags his tongue through my folds. Still watching her, he lays a kiss on either one of my knees, then stands. “She’s cured for now,” he rasps, using his sleeve to wipe his damp jaw. “But she’s going to need another healing session soon. As early as this afternoon.”

Turning his back on my mother, he releases me from the ropes and my hands fall limply at my sides. Joseph rubs his thumb along my lower lip, his touch traveling lower to fondle my breasts through the white slip.

“I’ll be keeping her with me for close observation.”

“Keeping her? For how long?”

“Forever,” Joseph growls. The look he sends my mother would make grown men weep. My mother backs up into the hallway, her back hitting the opposite wall hard. “You’re lucky I’m letting you live after tying up this sweet girl. Feeding her lies about herself. After taking her from me.” His voice turns silent, almost thoughtful. “On second thought, maybe I won’t let you live.”

The blood drains from her face. “Please. I was just trying to do what’s best. I’m a God-fearing woman.”

“Now you fear me. Do you understand?” Joseph brushes his fingertips over my belly before crossing to my closet, opening it. He takes out my purple Sunday dress and shuts the door once again. “We fell in love after today’s baptism and I took Mila home to make her my bride. God shined his light when I held her beneath the water. You couldn’t be happier about the match. That’s the story you will tell people.” He sends me a hungry glance. “The truth is I’ve been in love with her far longer than that.”

“I’ve loved you, too,” I whisper, sitting up, itching to throw my arms around him. I’ve never been so euphoric and that light, bubbly feeling is evident in my voice. “Are you really going to make me your bride, Joseph?”

“As soon as humanly possible, Mila.”

I collapse back on the bed with a dreamy sigh and Joseph chuckles softly. “That reminds me,” he says, taking out his wallet and handing my mother some money. “That should cover a new paint job outside her window.”

The man of my dreams scoops me up and carries me out of the house.

Neither one of us looks back.

CHAPTER FOUR

Joseph

I practically rip the hinges off the passenger side door and gather Mila in my arms, kicking the door shut behind me and storming the courthouse. After watching her change out of her damp, white slip and into the purple dress while driving, I’m erect and leaking in my pants. I’ve got the taste of her sweet pussy on my lips and the beast in me is pacing back and forth, demanding to know why I haven’t marked her as mine yet. Why I haven’t buried my cock between her thighs and filled her to the brim with my come. My brain is wondering the same goddamn thing. I’ve never been a man given to tradition, but after finding out my girl has been living with a mad woman and being treated like shit, you can bet the farm I’m going to prove to her she’s worth the world.

And worth another hour wait.

Tops.

I’m fucking dying here.

Too bad. I’m the man who unknowingly left her unsatisfied for a year. The reality of that makes me want to tear my skin off. If I’d known Mila wasn’t getting off, I would have kicked in her bedroom window and drowned her in orgasms.

Poor little girl. I lean down and kiss her nose, satisfied when she snuggles closer to my chest, blushing prettily.

Christ, I’ve never experienced anything like her. The way she mindlessly rubbed her innocent cunt all over my mouth, not knowing what was going to happen, but trusting me to make her better? Her confidence in me is the key to a kingdom and I want to rule there forever. I’m never, ever, ever, ever letting her go.

A man passes us on the way into the courthouse and his gaze slides over Mila. I lunge at him and snap my teeth, sending him running. It’s happening already. I knew if I took Mila for my own, I wouldn’t be able to maintain the air of a man of God. My misconception that Mila would be turned off or scared by the depth of my need—and depravity—managed to keep me away from her. Now that I know she’s just as eager to explore sexually, I can’t stop myself from taking her.

And so begins the slow creeping in of my past self. Only instead of channeling my violence into my profession, it’s going toward guarding Mila. Keeping her all to myself. The jig is going to be up someday soon. People will notice the change in me and start to ask questions.

Questions that will lead to me being found.

Am I putting Mila in danger by claiming her?

As if the mere thought of danger has called it forth, I feel a prickle on the back of my neck. With one foot inside the courthouse, I turn and glance back toward the road, narrowing my eyes at a passing vehicle. Late model, black sedan. Tinted windows. Not common around these parts. Has danger found me already?

The notion causes me to misstep as I advance into the lobby and Mila looks up at me, adorable in her concern. “Are you okay, Joseph?” She rolls her lips together. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“God, no, Mila.” I find an open bench and sit down, cradling her close, laying kisses on her forehead. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone in my life but you,” I murmur against her ear, inhaling her sunflower scent. “Being together is still new, but you’ll realize very soon that I’d crush any obstacle that stood between us. I’d crush any person, for that matter.” I shake my head. “I’ve spent so long worrying I might scare you off. It’s hard to believe you’re worried about the same.”

“Why did you think you’d scare me off?” She says quietly, reaching up to twist a piece of my hair around her finger. “Because you’re not who I thought you are?”

“Yes,” I rasp, pressing my mouth to her wrist so I can feel her pulse. “But there’s more, Mila. Something took shape inside me the first time I looked at you. I want your body like hell. So much that I can barely concentrate. But there’s more to it than that. I can’t stop thinking about to bringing you home and spoiling you.” I study her face closely to gauge her reaction. “The way a little girl deserves.”

Her swollen lips pop open on a gasp and time suspends as I wait for her to speak. After a few seconds, she crooks a finger at me, beckoning me closer so she can whisper in my ear. “I call you Daddy when I’m by myself in the dark, preacher. Is…a-are you telling me that isn’t bad?”

My cock turns into a fountain, gurgling come from its tip and I moan, twisting my fist in her dark hair. “No, Mila. It’s very good.” I tilt her head back and kiss her fluttering pulse. “It means you’re a very good girl.”

“I want to go home now,” she breathes, squirming in my lap with glazed eyes and peaked tits, driving me to distraction. “Please?”

The flesh pressing against my zipper throbs with such fullness, it hurts to stand, but I do it nonetheless, carrying Mila toward the marriage license counter. “I’m going to make you my queen first, Mila. And when we get home, I’ll make you my little princess.”

The woman behind the marriage license desk gives us a curious once over but I merely stare back until she flinches and hurries to do her job. I set Mila down, keeping her tucked into my side while I fill out the paperwork and slide it back across the counter. “We’d like to be married immediately.”

“S-sir, there’s a forty-eight hour waiting period.”

My smile is icy. “I said, immediately.”

A hush falls in the office. Fingers stop typing on keyboards and the woman holding our application backs away. “Let me just make sure the justice is available.”

Surprise, surprise. He’s available.

I take Mila’s hand and guide her into the sparsely furnished chamber, hating that she isn’t having a huge, extravagant wedding like she deserves. I appease myself by vowing that someday I’ll give her every damn thing she wants.

“Where is the one place you want to go?” I ask, as we take our places in front of the justice. “Anywhere in the world.”

Her eyes light up. “The ocean.”

Goddamn, she’s such a sweetheart. I’m the luckiest bastard alive. These hands have strangled the life out of men and yet they’re being given the privilege of touching this angel. I’m never going to look upon her with anything but wonder.

Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I take two gold bands out of my pocket and hold them out. “I bought these the day you turned eighteen. I couldn’t help it. You’ve been my dream since you walked into the church. I’ll take you to the ocean, Mila. I’ll love you the whole way there and every damn day afterward. That’s my promise.”

She takes a single step forward, opening her mouth to say something—before simply throwing herself into my arms. “You’re even better than I dreamed, Joseph Stark and I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

Thankfully the justice starts speaking at that moment and I’m saved from having to respond, because I’m not sure I could around the lump in my throat. We stand an inch apart as we repeat our vows and slide rings onto each other’s fingers. I was already desperate to be inside Mila, but seeing her with my gold band on her finger dries out my mouth and brings my cock to painful attention.

Mate her.

Mate your wife.

And Mila is an innocent, but the way she’s looking at me and shifting her hips tells me she’s ripe for Daddy’s seed. I’d like to hike her skirt up and fuck her right there in front of the justice, but she’s a virgin and I’m making our first time special, even if I die of anticipation in the process. There’s so much she needs to learn and I garner my patience now, prepared to teach her. To make her mine completely and irrevocably the first time.

That being said, I drive home like a bat out of hell. Mila is turned sideways in the passenger seat watching me with stars in her eyes. And I make my own vow that I’ll do something every day to earn that worshipful expression on her face when she looks at me. That’s my last noble thought as we pull into my driveway and I throw the car into park, exiting the driver’s side, crossing to Mila’s door and scooping her out into my arms.

“This is where you live?” Mila murmurs against my shoulder, her eyes wide on my white, two story colonial. “It’s so beautiful. Right up against the forest.”

“That’s so I can draw my enemy out into the woods if necessary. I’d have the advantage of knowing the landscape.”

“Do you have a lot of enemies, Joseph?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” I kiss her forehead as we step over the threshold into our house. I check the near-invisible line of chalk I always leave in front of the door, breathing a sigh of relief when I see it’s undisturbed. There is no other way into the house without a wrecking ball—I’ve made sure of it. “You’re safe with me, Mila. Tell me you believe that.”

“Of course I do.”

“This is your home now.” I incline my head toward the entry way and staircase beyond. “You’re safe inside here. I would die making sure that stays true.”

Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t say things like that.”

“I’m sorry.” I lean down and kiss her sweet mouth, groaning when her lips part, allowing me to deliver a deep stroke with my tongue. Her tits press against my chest and she makes an adorable mewling noise that makes semen drip from the head of my erection. “I’ll tell you everything, Mila. Just let me get my cock inside you first.”

“I want that, too,” she says huskily, biting her lip. “Teach me about pleasure, Joseph. I want to learn everything.”

I’m halfway up the stairs before she finishes speaking, blood pounding in my ears. Upon entering our bedroom, I take a seat on the foot of the bed, leaving Mila turned sideways and perched on my knee. I’ve pictured her in my room wearing the purple dress so many times, it almost doesn’t feel real, but the sound of her pounding heart saves me from believing this is all a dream.

“We’re going to take this slow,” I say, dragging the hem of the dress higher on her thighs. “Are you curious about anything, Mila?”

She nods vigorously. “Why does that thing between your legs get hard?”

Christ, she’s even more innocent than I thought. A sense of responsibility settles over me, to teach her, to show her how we’ll give each other relief. I push her legs apart so I can see her wet, white panties and I trace a finger down the split of her pussy. “Only way a man can fit inside a woman is if his cock is hard. He’s preparing to thrust it into her pussy.”

“Th-thrust it?” she stutters.

“Yes, little girl.” I squeeze her flesh rhythmically. “I’m going to fit my cock into your virgin pussy and thrust over and over while you scream for more.”

Wonder fills her expression. “And then what happens?”

Mila has no idea she’s filling my every fantasy right now, does she? I’ve pleasured myself to the thought of teaching her about sex as her authority figure so many times, I’ve lost count. Now it’s happening and hunger is eating away at my gut. “Can I take your panties off, Mila?”

Pink climbs her cheeks. “Yes.”

She lifts her hips slightly while I drag the thin cotton down to her knees, leaving it bunched there. “Remember this morning when Daddy licked you here?” I ask, sliding my index finger through her slippery folds. “Remember how you felt at the end?”

Her eyelids droop. “Like I was exploding.”

“Yes. Men have their own version of exploding. It’s called coming. And I’m going to do it inside here,” I rasp, jiggling my finger against her hole. “I’m the only man who is ever—ever—going to come inside here, do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Very good,” I growl, taking back my hand so I can suck her juices off my finger, moaning at the perfection of her taste. “Would you like to see my cock?”

“Oh, please.”

It’s getting harder and harder to restrain myself, especially because she’s so sweet and eager, but I swallow my urgency and stand, position Mila on the edge of the bed facing me. I move my hips closer and unzip my pants, taking a moment to stroke her hair and rub her mouth with my thumb. Then I fist my dripping dick and take it out, seed shooting from the tip when she gasps, her little tits pebbling inside her dress. The perfect combination of innocent and horny.

Daddy is going to ride you till he dies, little girl.

“Is it going to hurt?” Mila whispers, scooting backwards on the bed.

I catch her ankle and drag her closer, leaning over her body until she lands on her back, her tits heaving up and down. “Only for a little while,” I say, licking into her mouth and kissing her until I feel the tension ebbing from her sexy body and she’s back to whimpering for more. “It’s going to feel unnatural having my cock inside you, stretching that cute, little hole. But there’s nothing more natural than Daddy breeding his baby girl.”

“Breeding?”

“Mmmm.” I push her thighs open and almost climax at the sight of her naked pussy, pink and glistening in the afternoon light, like a rosebud after the rain. “Ripe little girl. You’ve been asking without words for Daddy’s come, haven’t you?” I lean over Mila and stroke my cock, just above her belly. “I’ve been smelling your tight pussy waking up and changing for months. Your body knows it’s breeding time. There are some people out there who think I shouldn’t come in my little girl. But if that’s true, why do you make my dick so hard?”

Mila’s back arches on the bed and she moans, squeezing her tits through the purple material. “Touch me, please. I’m burning up.”

“I know what you need.” I retreat back and catch her knees in my hands, leaning down to drag the tip of my tongue up the center of her pussy. Fuck. She tastes like heaven, sugary sweet and smooth as silk. My cock is leaking all over the bed as I devour her virgin flesh, tapping her clit with my tongue until she comes out to play, then riding her with long, thorough strokes, back and forth, up and down, until Mila is like a wildcat above me, ripping at the comforter with her fingernails and squirming her hips all over the place.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I growl, coming to a kneel and unbuttoning my shirt as fast as I can, ripping it off and throwing it aside. Until I’m shirtless, I forget my tattoos have been hidden from view since coming to town.

But I remember when Mila’s eyes go as wide as silver dollars.

“Daddy,” she breathes, raking me with her gaze. “You are a bad man.”

With my teeth bared, I take hold of the neckline of her dress and rip it down the center, leaving her completely naked. My personal virgin sacrifice—and she’s even more incredible than I could have ever envisioned with her dusky nipples, rounded hips and open thighs. I take my cock and smack it against her pussy, spend dribbling from my tip to slip into her folds. “I’m your bad man now, little girl.” I position my shaft at her entrance and she sucks in a breath, her expression half brave, half terrified. “We’re going to be bad together.”

I lean down and snare her mouth in a kiss, then I sink my cock halfway inside her, roaring my triumph against her lips. She’s restless underneath me, her whimpers less blissful than before, but I know we can’t stop now or she’ll only remember the pain. So I reach down between our lower bodies and tease her clit with my thumb. I kiss her mouth with every ounce of passion inside me and little by little, my dick pushes deeper into her tight cunt.

“Oh, little Mila,” I growl into her ear. “You’re a very good girl giving this pussy to Daddy. He’s wanted it so bad.”

“I’m trying,” she whines, shifting her hips. “It’s so big.”

“You don’t have to try. Just keep your legs open and let Daddy have his way.”

When I bottom out in her pussy, I wrestle back the bellow into my throat. Jesus, she’s tighter than I ever could have imagined. It takes every ounce of my self control not to throw her ankles up over my shoulders and rail her like a man without morals. That’s what I used to be, before she became the light of my life. As such, she’s going to get my patience, my concentration. My love.

“Take a deep breath, Mila,” I murmur into her neck, ordering my hips to remain still while I continue to fondle her clit. “Think about what we’re doing. Think of the picture we make. If someone was standing at the foot of the bed, they’d see my big, ugly cock inside your sweet, juicy little pussy. They’d see your cunt straining to take all those thick inches and the tears in your eyes. A beast fucking his beauty. Even drawing a little blood.”

Mila moans, her hands coming to settle on my shoulders. Discomfort is already ebbing from her expression, her knees grazing my ribcage. “I’m not a virgin anymore, am I, Daddy?”

“No, Mila.” I lick up the side of her neck. “Daddy owns your innocence now.” She wiggles her hips just slightly and pressure spreads in my belly like freshly poured cement. “Stay still, little girl. Unless you’re ready for me to start thrusting. Once I begin, I won’t stop until I’ve emptied every last drop inside you.”

“I like the way you talk to me,” she breathes, rolling her lower body. “It’s so wicked. It makes me feel like a woman.”

Our mouths find one another and mate, wild and hungry. After countless strokes of my tongue in her mouth, Mila’s thighs open wide and there’s no stopping me after that. I throw my left hand up to grip the headboard and I pound my cock into that snug hole, struggling each time to get it all inside of her. Her tits shake and bounce underneath me, her mouth open and gasping my name. The bed groans beneath us and I lack all tenderness at this point, because her perfection has turned me into a fuck-hungry animal. I growl an apology as I fold her body in half, pressing her knees up to her ears and rifling my dick in and out of her slurping pussy.

“Such a Daddy’s girl,” I grit out, grinding the case of my cock on top of her clit and watching her eyes go blind. “We’re going to be even closer now, Mila. We’re going to be secret special friends. Don’t you want that?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she screams, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I want to be your favorite.”

My laughter is dark. “Oh, little girl. It’s no contest.”

Mila releases a frustrated whimper and twists around in my hold. “I-I’m getting that ticklish feeling again.”

“You want Daddy to tickle you like this,” I growl, driving my cock into her relentlessly, my balls smacking off her tight backside. “You love it.”

“I do.” She sucks in a breath, then lets it out on a scream. “Oh, it’s happening.”

“Good girl, Mila. Drench my cock. Show me your appreciation. Then I’ll give you mine.”

She goes off like a little firecracker, her pussy choking my dick with adorable, little spasms. Her eyes are clenched shut and she’s working her hips. Working, working, rubbing her clit on the trunk of my erection and I know—I know she’s going to be fucking insatiable. I can’t wait to satisfy her as many times per day as she requires. If it’s half as often as I plan to take her, we’ll never leave the bedroom. And that’s fine with me.

“Oh Daddy, it feels so good,” she wails, her body shaking head to toe. “I love you.”

That’s what flips my switch. Hearing Daddy and I love you in the same sentence. There’s no holding back the tidal wave within me any longer. I couldn’t if I wanted to. One more pump into her tightness and I let go, moaning loudly into her neck as shudders wrack me, come spewing from my cock into her body. My hips continue to hump her mindlessly, as if they’re unwilling to end the heavenly experience of fucking my Mila. My heart is an applauding crowd of thousands, standing on their feet and delivering a thunderous ovation.

I’ve done it.

I’ve made her my wife.

I’ve satisfied her.

I’ve claimed her, made her mine.

“Mine, mine, MINE!” Those roared words come from deep inside me, my balls draining the last of their spend into her stretching cunt. I start to collapse, but catch myself on an elbow, capturing her gasping mouth with a kiss. “My wife. Mine. Forever and ever.” My upper lip curls. “Amen.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Mila

I sit on the double bathroom vanity wrapped in a towel, watching Joseph draw us a bath. The room is beautiful, white and gray marble, clean. New. Unlike the bathroom I’ve been bathing in since childhood. Sighing as the steam curls around me, Joseph stands—nude and glorious—and I feel like a princess. One that’s been rescued by a knight in shining armor and brought back to the castle.

My husband is not the traditional storybook knight, though, is he?

A shiver courses through me when Joseph faces me in the thickening steam. Dark hair curls around one eye and he smiles like a wolf, making my womanhood clench. Shame ripples through me, but I ignore it and smile back. There’s no room for anything but love between us. The lessons my mother inflicted on me might take some time to evaporate, but I don’t think it’ll take long. Not after Joseph gave me my most secret fantasy, as if he knew it line by line.

He’s my Daddy and I’m his little girl. And he makes that right, somehow.

It feels right. More right than anything I’ve ever imagined.

As Joseph comes toward me slowly, I let my gaze track down his body. Over the tattoo of the grim reaper, the coffin, knives and gore. The words Death is Your Only Escape. My husband has a lot to tell me. But no matter what he says, I know I’ve found the other half of my heart. Whatever he did in the past, we share a soul now. We are one, bound together in love and marriage. There’s nothing that could drive me away…

Although I feel a spark of apprehension when I notice the sudden hesitance in his expression. His eyes cut to the side, away from me, even as his hips settle in between my thighs. “It’s time for us to talk, Mila.”

“I know,” I murmur, leaning it to lick condensation off his inked collarbone. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you’re not,” he rasps, unknotting my towel, peeling it from my body and tossing it away. “You need to understand, Mila. If you ever leave me, I’d dismantle this world, country by country, until I found you and brought you home.”

“You won’t have to do that. Ever.” I settle my hands on his chest. “I promise.”

Joseph’s jaw clenches as he scrutinizes me, but he seems satisfied with whatever he finds and nods. “Come on.” He picks me up off the counter with ease and I eagerly wrap my legs around his waist. “We talk in the bath.”

“Why, Daddy?”

He groans over my use of his title. “I feel unclean when I think of the past,” he mutters, stepping into the white, oversized porcelain tub. “If I get any dirt on you, I want to be able to wash it away.”

Joseph sits and I snuggle close to his chest, giggling when his chest hair tickles my nipples. “You’re talking in metaphors, like you do in church.”

“I’m lucky I was even making sense up there on that stage,” he murmurs, tucking hair behind my ear. “You were the only thing I could think of. There was only Mila in her pretty purple dress.”

I grin into his chest hair. “Even if you didn’t make sense, everyone in this town would just pretend it was the smartest thing they ever heard.” I trace a circle around his nipple. “They think you’re the second coming.”

“I’m not, Mila.”

With a swallow, I look up at him. “Tell me.”

Joseph is silent for a moment. “I left my home in Boston when I was fifteen and another family took me in, only it’s not the kind of family you’re thinking. They’re a family whose sole purpose is to make money through intimidation, illegal gambling, extortion. They collect money from local businesses in exchange for protection—and if those businesses don’t pay up…sometimes they pay with their life.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, burying his face in my hair. “I had no guidance growing up, Mila. Never saw anywhere or anything outside my neighborhood. This was how the world worked. You paid your tribute or else,” he says. “I started working as muscle for this family, intimidating people, collecting money…taking care of rival family members who tried to run an operation on our turf. These hands that dare to touch your skin, Mila…they’ve killed.”

Some part of me knew that. Some part of me suspected. But I can only think of a lost fifteen-year-old boy with nowhere else to go. I can only find sympathy in my heart. “Why did you leave?”

His throat works against my temple. “I have a brother. Younger than me. When I joined the family, my only condition was that my brother be kept out of that lifestyle. He was smart, doing well in school. I didn’t want him anywhere near it.” He shrugs his big shoulders. “They didn’t listen. They thought he knew too much about what I did on their behalf, so they pulled him in. Made him complicit. I told them, Mila. I told them I didn’t want my brother involved—and they didn’t listen. So I took down the boss.”

Even though I know nothing about this world Joseph is describing, I reckon from his tone that killing a boss is a very bad thing. “So you ran?”

“Yeah,” he says, hoarsely. “My brother went one way, I went the other. I’m not sure where he ended up, but he’s smart. They won’t find him.”

“They’re looking for you?”

Joseph nods. “What I did is unheard of. An unforgivable transgression.” He pauses. “They’ll be searching for the rest of my life.” He pulls back, holding me by the shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mila. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “Of course I do.”

His eyes close with gratitude, then reopen. “I don’t know how long I can keep up this town preacher act. You bring out something in me, Mila. Lust, jealousy. You make me a possessive son of a bitch. I love what you do to me. I’ve never felt more fucking alive. But it’s impossible to hide those things.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’m going to try, but we might have to move on soon.”

I nod solemnly. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”

A corner of his mouth ticks up. “Maybe even the ocean.”

A smile spreads across my face and I feel his manhood spring to life against me. I look down into the bath and watch in fascination as his shaft unfurls and grows thick, the head lifting out of the water’s surface. Fullness blooms in my tummy and I feel a little zing in that little pebble of flesh between my thighs. “Is it playtime again, Daddy?” I whisper.

Joseph’s hands find my bottom and flex, molding the flesh roughly. “It’s always playtime when we’re alone, little girl.” His finger presses to the hole between my backside cheeks and I gasp. “Shhh. We need to be quiet. I’m not supposed to be in here while you bathe.”

I almost come then and there. Thank God I have a name to call it now. Coming. That place I’ve been building toward for so long, but not achieving. It’s now the place Joseph takes me by playing pretend with me. That’s what we’re doing, even though it feels so real. I can’t explain the deep, abiding desire inside me to play house with Joseph in this way. To pretend what we’re doing is against the rules. As if my mother is downstairs assuming me and Joseph are behaving the way a father and daughter would. But we’re not behaving. We’re too drawn to each other for that.

“I promise to be quiet,” I say, arching my back and lifting my breasts out of the water. Joseph’s eyes darken so rapidly, his breathing turning shallow, that I grow in confidence, leaning back and shaking my breasts for him. “Do you like that, Daddy?”

His hand disappears below that water and begins to disturb it immediately, his fist traveling up and down his big trunk of flesh. “That’s right. Shake them right to left. Give me a dirty, little show, baby girl.”

A giggle sails from my mouth, as natural as breathing. “You can play with them if you want to. I won’t tell.”

Daddy’s head falls back on a long groan, his hand moving faster and faster. “Come over here and sit on my lap. Give me a special hug with your little pink pussy, the way I taught you.”

Lust rains down on me with such force, locking my muscles, I wonder how I find the strength to straddle Daddy and let him angle his big shaft against the opening hidden away inside my folds. I bite my lip to stay quiet and hold on to his solid shoulders, letting him push me down, inch by inch. When it becomes too much, I let out a sob and Daddy puts a hand over my mouth.

“Quiet as a mouse, remember?”

“Sorry,” I whisper, when he takes his hand away.

Daddy leans down and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, making me squirm and gasp. “Do you remember what to tell her if we get caught?”

He’s letting me decide how far to take our game and I have no fear or reservations—only incredible, building excitement—when I say, “I tell her it’s my fault. You tried to resist me, but I kept teasing and teasing.”

His chest shudders and his hips start to roll beneath me, his manhood dragging in and out of my private hole. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? She left me alone with you too many times. After school, while she’s off at church. And there you are, sprawling out on your Daddy in nothing but T-shirts and panties, so he can’t concentrate on the ball game. There’s only so much a man can stand.”

That delicious build up is happening inside me again, partly because of Daddy’s forbidden words, but mostly because in this position, I can bear down hard and rub my pleasure spot on the base of his thickness. And oh God, I do. I start out slow, but in the end, I ride my Daddy so hard, water splashes over the side of the bathtub. Our breath rasps between us, both of us trying hard not to make a sound. Joseph’s grip on my bottom is so tight, he’s going to leave marks behind and I love that. I love it so much, I lean in next to his ear and say, “Bruise me, Daddy. I’ll tell her you spanked me for being bad.”

“Fuck,” he pushes through clenched teeth. “You’re making me come.”

On instinct, I tighten up the muscles cradling his pulsing rod. “That’s what little girls are for,” I whisper innocently. “Right, Daddy?”

I grind down one more time on his ample girth and let myself fly. Coming. I’m coming. Freefalling through a star studded night sky, my eyes rolling back in my head and everything below my waist squeezing hard, pulsating, pulsating and then I can do nothing but shake while relief courses through me, adrenaline still whipping in my blood stream. And love. My heart won’t let me forget about that.

I watch through half-mast eyes as the man who embodies love to me groans through the throes of his own peak, his hips jackknifing up and lifting me out of the water, his hands yanking me up and back, up and back on his lap, forcing me to ride him straight through to the end, the warmth of his spend jetting inside me.

“Daddy,” I sob, collapsing on his chest a moment later. “Daddy, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says gruffly, laying kisses on my hairline. “You are mine. Nothing and no one is ever going to take you away from me.”

That doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t try.

CHAPTER SIX

Joseph

Walking into the weekly church picnic with Mila, the urge to laugh strikes. It wouldn’t be the jovial laugh my congregation is accustomed to, however. No, it would be a whole lot more sinister. Totally unsuited to this bright, sunny day on the great lawn beside the church, the smell of pie wafting in the air.

So I thread my fingers through Mila’s slimmer ones and grind the sound to dust with my back teeth. Everyone has stopped to watch us arrive and I knew it would be like this. Each and every person is a threat now. Someone that might look at Mila wrong or breathe in her direction in a way that I don’t like. Now that I’ve given in and claimed her, I don’t want to share her, especially in the pretty new dress I bought her as she slept late this morning. One of many. No, I want her in our bed wailing for Daddy while the posts of our bed slam into the wall.

I don’t feel like laughing any more. My upper lip curls in a snarl as a male member of the congregation tips his hat in our direction, his eyes raking over Mila’s ripe figure. I disconnect our fingers and grasp the back of her neck instead, letting my touch slip higher into the strands of her hair, wrapping the strands around my knuckles. Everyone in attendance at the picnic was already regarding us with nothing short of awe, but they step back now, probably sensing my beastly energy.

This was inevitable when I made Mila mine. I can’t be their affable preacher any more. The love of my life walks beside me and already might be carrying my child in her belly. I’m not the kind of man who can separate from his wife at a social event and let just anyone have the pleasure of her company. These men sense she’s been bred. I know they do. They’re probably picturing her naked, sweaty, being ridden in a mess of sheets—and she’s so irresistible, they can’t help but want a turn.

And while they obviously sense a change in me already—it’s plain on their alarmed faces—they don’t know I would slit their throat for daring to touch Mila’s hand.

Mila turns her body into mine, her hands climbing my chest. “Everyone is staring,” she whispers. “I think they’re waiting for you to say something.”

She’s right. Normally I would be shaking hands and addressing the concerns of the locals, counseling them, whether or not I have the correct expertise. But I already know in my gut this phase of our life is over. I meant what I said to Mila. She brings out the man I am at the very core. And than man isn’t able to keep up the ruse of a holy man. She’s roused the animal inside me and more than that, now that Mila knows the truth, her watching me continue to lie doesn’t sit right. She deserves a man who is true to himself every moment of the day.

Mila traces a finger down the center of my chest and bites her lip. “Joseph?”

I curl an arm around the back of Mila’s shoulders and draw her as close as possible. Making eye contact with every male in the vicinity, I press my lips to her forehead. “I’ve made her my wife,” I rasp, dropping my hand to the small of her back, where the curve of her ass begins. “Mine.”

People trade disquieted looks, no sound on the great lawn besides the rippling of the wind through the nearby forest.

Applause happens slowly, an uncomfortable smattering, before it dies.

I tuck Mila into my side and continue through the parting crowd, noticing her mother standing off to the side at the pie table, trying not to make direct eye contact. Good. She’ll never have access to her daughter again. She was blessed with the sweetest angel on earth and didn’t appreciate the gift she’d been given. Mila’s mother peeks over and I tell her as much with a dark look. She’s mine forever.

“Joseph,” Mila murmurs with a grin, curling her hands into the material of my long, black jacket. “The ocean sounds good about now.”

I smile down into the knowing eyes of my wife, my heart beating faster at the proof that our minds think alike. As soon as we arrived at this picnic, it was obvious things could never go back to the way they’d been. I’ve married a girl fresh from her eighteenth birthday, one day after I carried her to my office during a church service. Speculation about what has ensued over the last twenty-four hours is probably rampant. I’m meant to be the holiest among them. Above reproach. Yet I took no time to court her and now I’ve got my hands and mouth all over her.

Ask me if I care what they think. I care about nothing besides my little girl.

“Let’s leave tonight,” Mila says, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I want to go on an adventure with you.”

I lean down and kiss her soft mouth. “You are my adventure.”

I’m not sure how to explain the unease that prickles the hair on the back of my neck. Only that one moment I couldn’t be more eager to greet the future with my bride—and the next, my stomach is weighed down with foreboding. My muscles harden, eyes ticking up to scan the forest. I hear a branch snap and my blood begins to pump wildly.

Without waiting another second, I drag Mila behind me, blocking her from the threat I sense in the woods. It’s coming. My past in Boston has come for me. I’m not sure how I’m suddenly so positive, except I’ve had this tug in my gut for a while now. I should have trusted my instincts yesterday at the courthouse and left with Mila immediately. Having danger this close to her is unacceptable. And terrifying. The thought of someone taking her away from me is terrifying.

“I need to get you out of here—” A flash of metal flares in the forest a split second before a bullet rips through the air. “No.”

I spin on a heel, using my body as a shield as I hustle Mila across the lawn to the parking area, dodging the members of the congregation who are now scrambling to hide and running in every direction. As fast as I can, I get her locked into my car. “Get down, Mila and stay down. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, going down on her belly in the foot area of the backseat. “Come with me, Joseph. Don’t go back there.”

I lean down and kiss her mouth. “I love you, baby girl. I’ll be back. No one is going to shoot at my fucking wife and live to see another day.”

“Joseph.”

Unable to bear the fear in her tone, I close the door and lock it. Using the car as a shield for a moment, I scan the tree line looking for any sign of movement. Or a color that doesn’t belong among the green foliage—and I spot it. It’s very slight, but I see the navy blue peeking out from behind a tree, about fifty yards into the woods. I’m not so out of practice to believe they’d only send one man to kill me, though.

I welcome the challenge.

Murder throbbing in my temples, I crisscross my reach, my hands disappearing into my black preacher jacket, whipping both Glocks out of my shoulder holsters, pointing them at the threat.

“Get down,” I roar at the bumbling idiots trying to find cover around me. They do as I command, thankfully, ensuring I don’t blow any of their heads off as I fire into the woods. One shot, duck behind an SUV. Another shot. Give myself enough cover to advance ten yards. It’s a process and gunfire spits in my direction the whole way, but I finally make it to the tree line. Leaning back against a tree trunk, I close my eyes, hold my breath and listen for the tiniest scrap of sound.

Minutes pass, but I finally hear a leaf crumble and make my move. I come around back of the tree and fire, taking down the navy blue target, immediately finding a new place to take cover as life gurgles out of the man on the forest floor. There’s another one, though, there’s always another one. I think of my sweet Mila and make a mental promise that I’ll never subject her to violence again when this day is over. I’ll take her to an ocean on the other side of the world to ensure it.

I’m getting hard thinking of how she rode me in the bathtub when I hear an intake of breath, coming from nearby. Muscle memory sends me into action and I step right, taking down the second target with a bullet in the neck. He jerks and slaps a hand over the hole I created, but it’s too late. Too much blood has been lost and within seconds he drops, not far from the first man.

I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my wrist and replace the guns in my shoulder holsters. Eagerness to reunite with Mila tears at my chest and I turn to leave, but I stop short when she bursts through the trees, distress written all over her face. “Oh, Joseph, you’re okay. I know you told me to stay in the car, but I h-heard that last gunshot and I was so worried it was you—”

“Never,” I grit out, stepping over one of the dead men on my way to reach her. “I won’t let death take me now that I’ve got my reason to live.”

Her eyes soften and she throws herself into my arms. Wanting to get my mouth on hers, I lift Mila and her legs circle my waist automatically. Her warm pussy settles on my thickening erection and she wiggles around on it eagerly, her innocent tongue venturing into my mouth.

“This doesn’t scare you, Mila?” I say hoarsely between kisses. “Look what I’m capable of. This is the man you’re spending the rest of your life with. I would do it over and over again to protect you.”

“It doesn’t scare me. It makes me feel safe.” We both look down at the luscious tits swelling over her neckline. “Daddy is a bad man, but he’s good to me.”

My groan carries through the wooded area and my body gives me no choice but to take. Take what my little girl offers. I put Mila on her feet turn her around so she’s facing away from me. Then I walk her forward, stopping at a tree not two feet away from the second dead man. “Brace your hands on the tree,” I rasp, unbuckling the belt of my dress pants. “I’m in need.”

“Me too,” she hiccups, doing as she’s told.

The act of lifting her hands has raised the hem of her white dress and I lift it higher now, overcome by the sight of her thighs, her supple butt cheeks. An emerald green strap of silk is tucked down the center—one of the new thongs I bought her—and I pull those panties down now, letting them fall at her ankles. I reach around the front of her body to slide a finger through the folds of her pussy, ensuring she’s warm, wet and ready, before I grip my cock and cram it up inside her, grunting into her smooth neck, growing louder with every inch she accepts. “Tilt your hips back,” I growl. “Let Daddy have that wet, little fuck hole.”

“Okay,” she whimpers, the humps of her backside lifting against my belly, her body trembling. “L-like this? Oh!”

I’m already fucking her, yanking my little girl up on her toes and squelching in and out of her tight cunt. She feels so perfect, my head falls back and I groan up into the fractured sunlight breaking through the trees. I’ve got the front of her pussy cupped in my right hand, my left arm slung across her hips in an unbreakable bar. I can already feel her pussy muscles starting to quiver, her thighs growing restless.

“I’m going to come, I’m going to come,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”

My laugh is a dark rip of sound. “Even if you begged and screamed for me to stop right now, little girl, I wouldn’t be able to. Soon as you flashed those big eyes at me, I was always going to fuck you until I finish.”

I use the pad of my finger to tickle Mila’s clit and she starts whining in that way that drives me crazy. “Daddy. Oh Daddy.”

The sound of a twig snapping makes me nostrils flare, my head coming up. But I don’t stop fucking Mila. I can’t. I can only cover as much of her as possible with my body, lifting her feet off the ground as I continue to shove my cock into her pussy, struggle to get it out, then ram it back in. Heaven. Who could leave heaven under any circumstance?

Another twig snaps. Three, four. And I glance over to see the whole damn congregation coming toward us through the trees. They don’t know where to look. At the dead bodies on the ground. Or at me railing my little girl, snarling like a fucking wolf as I thrust into her incredible cunt over and over and over, growing more and more frantic as I race toward my climax. Her bare legs dangle in front of me, shaking with each savage upward drive of my hips, her head lolling back on my shoulder. She can’t help sobbing Daddy and that title being said out loud elicits gasps from the dozens of people watching. I want to blind the male onlookers with a hot brand, but another, sicker part of me glories in marking my territory, right there for everyone to see.

I look into the eyes of two nearby men and let them know. That’s right. I’m the only one who’ll ever get balls deep in this.

Mila’s ass writhes on my belly and she sucks in an audible breath. Then her whole body pulls taut like a wire and she screams, her cream gushing down all over my invading cock. I catch her juice with the pad of my finger and use it to jiggle her clit as she orgasms long and loud. Her pleasure triggers my own and I bellow her name, freeing the immense pressure in my balls, my stomach. I lose my sight for a moment, sunlight winking through the trees, disappearing and coming back. I don’t like being weak this close to other men when I must protect my wife, though, so I grit my teeth and force my way through the immeasurable bliss she gives me, only giving myself a moment to savor the satisfaction of watching come sluice down her inner thighs.

Both of us are still panting as we fix our clothing and engage in a slow, hungry kiss over her shoulder. “What do you say?” I murmur. “You want to get out of here?”

Mila glances down at the still body of the man I killed, her eyes twinkling with humor as she looks back at me. “I think we’d better.”

As I take my obsession’s hand and walk her out of the forest, through the throngs of shocked onlookers, I wonder if she doesn’t have a little bit of the devil in her, after all. If so, it’s going to have a lot of fun playing with mine for the next sixty or so years.

EPILOGUE

Mila

Five years later

I bury my toes in the sand and stare out at the Irish Sea. The water is wild and untamed, wind whipping off the surface to throw my hair into chaos. My hand rests on my newly swollen belly and nearby, my daughter and son build a castle with buckets and spades, giggling and telling secrets. I close my eyes and breathe in the salt air through my nose, my mouth curling into a smile when I feel a gentle kick against my palm.

Joseph approaches me from behind and I don’t need to turn to confirm that. I always know when he’s coming, because my skin flushes and my heart accelerates. There’s a click inside me, our souls locking back together after a short absence while he’s been at work and peace settles over me like a silk net.

My husband’s arms slide around my waist and he groans into my neck. “Mila. Goddamn, you look beautiful standing here.” He plants slow, lingering kisses along my shoulder. “Being away from you drives me crazy, baby girl. By the end of the day, I’m in pain. I can’t stand it.”

“Me either,” I admit, leaning back into his strength, absorbing it greedily. “But we were safe here. I…think this might be it, Joseph.”

His mouth pauses in its journey up the side of my neck. “Really?”

I press my lips together and stare out at the horizon. Across this expanse of blue are a dozen places me and Joseph have traveled over the last five years, building our family as we went. California, Belize, Australia. He always takes me somewhere with an ocean. Every time, I fall in love with a new body of water, but none except the Irish Sea have made me want to stay. To never leave.

We left Mississippi with nothing but the clothes on our backs five years ago, but Joseph had enough money hidden away to keep us living comfortably for a lifetime. My husband is not the type to rest on his laurels, however, and has made good money working as a builder at each of our stops.

He specializes in churches.

Every evening, Joseph returns to me covered in dust and starved for my body. Almost feral in his need, he finds somewhere we can be alone and he licks between my thighs, moaning and fisting his manhood until I’m damp enough to be taken. And then he does. Until I’m limp.

Our first stop after leaving Mississippi was California and there we met a former Vegas go-go dancer named Marilyn—a woman in her late sixties with a knowing smile and a tender heart who lived in the house next door. When I found out I was pregnant, she became my surrogate mother, guiding me on what to do to have a healthy pregnancy and what to do when the time came to give birth. I don’t know what I would have done without her. And when our daughter came along, Marilyn fell for her, the same way me and Joseph did. Marilyn is our nanny now and we’ve brought her all over the world with us.

Lord knows we need her around. My husband’s appetite for me has not cooled in the last five years, but grown increasingly stronger, along with mine. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll both combust due to the power of our lust. Most nights, we retreat to the beach and rut like animals in the moonlight, my knees digging into wet sand as Joseph slams into me from behind, his hoarse voice in my ear.

Did my little girl miss me?

Or those other, dirtier nights.

You’ve tempted me for the last time, brat.

My skin tingles with awareness and my husband’s hand slips to my breast, lightly pinching my distended nipple between his knuckles. I move my backside in his lap, slowly writhing against the thickness of his erection. Joseph owns me. Heart, body and soul. And for the first time, I’ve found a place on this earth that speaks to those same parts of me, caressing them with intuition.

We’ve finally found a place that’s worthy of our love.

“Yes, this is it, Joseph,” I say. “I want us to stay here forever.”

He nods into my neck. “Then I will build you and our children a house right here on the water.” His tone is fierce. “This is where I’ll love you until the end of time, Mila.”

Tears sting my eyelids. “I love you, Joseph.”

“I love you, too.” He presses his mouth to my ear, his voice in a rasp. “I’m obsessed with you. I lust for you. I take every fucking breath for you.” His hand grows more insistent on my breast. “Now call for the nanny.”

Moisture gathers between my thighs and I’m vibrating head to toe, but I manage to turn and gesture weakly to Marilyn where she stands on the porch of our rental cottage. She knows that gesture. It’s a nightly occurrence.

Without letting a moment pass, she calls to my children, promising them cookies. No sooner have they run squealing toward the house than Joseph spins me around, yanking down the bodice of my dress to free my breasts.

“Ah Jesus, little girl,” he growls, pulling me up against him and dipping his head to suck my nipples one by one into his mouth. “I’ll never get enough. It’s never enough. What you do to me. I think of nothing else. Just Mila. My Mila.”

I reach under my dress and tug down my panties, goose bumps flying up my skin at Joseph’s starved expression, the way he groans when my panties hit the sand, that huge part of him bulging behind his fly. Wide eyed, I bite my lip and hitch my legs up around his waist. “Is it playtime, Daddy?”

Joseph fumbles with his zipper and finds my entrance with his erection, bouncing me five, six, seven times until I’m fully impaled and we’re both moaning. “It’s always playtime when we’re alone, little girl.”

And with the sea roaring behind us, we play fiercely, we love obsessively.

We begin our forever.

THE END

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