Preacher

by Madison Faye

  I nod my head. “Yes.”

  “But you have that…”

  I grin. “Because it’s more fun than a dry hand.”

  She blushes furiously, but she smiles, her teeth raking her lip.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  She nods, swallowing thickly. “Very.”

  She pants and pushes back, and my cock twitches. I tease my slippery fingers over her ass, and she quivers as she rubs her clit. Slowly, I start to sink a finger into her, and Delilah groans in heated pleasure.

  “Oh God,” she gasps. “That’s… oh God.”

  My jaw clenches tight as I slowly pump a finger in and out of her, before I add a second. I slip both in, and she whimpers and starts to rub her clit faster. The blood is roaring in my ears, and my cum is fucking boiling in my balls. Slowly, I slide my fingers from her, and I move closer. My hand grips her ass, spreading her open as I stroke my cock and press the head against her little hole.

  “Keep touching your pussy, angel,” I growl.

  “Go slow?”

  “I’m never gonna hurt you, Delilah.”

  My cock lurches as I press it to her ring. I push, every ounce of my willpower being used to go slow. I add pressure, stroking my cock and teasing her with my swollen head until her tight, forbidden little asshole begins to open for me. My head throbs, and I push a little more, easing it into her. She whimpers, her breath coming ragged and her hand furiously rubbing her clit. Her back arches, and in the dull glowing light, I look down watch as my fat cock slowly begins to sink into her.

  Delilah pushes back, and suddenly, with a gasp, my head slips inside.

  “Oh fuck…” she chokes the filthy word out, but it’s immediately followed by this deep, primal moan of pleasure. I grunt and hold myself right there, gritting my teeth as I feel her ass clench around my head so fucking tightly. Delilah takes a shaky breath, and she slowly turns her head to look at me with pure fire in her eyes.

  “I want you to keep going.”

  Yeah, I don’t need to be told that twice. I growl as I grip her hips tightly, and I start to push. My swollen cock begins to push into her, slick and glistening as it sinks deeper into her ass. Delilah’s rubbing her little pussy so hard, and she moans over and over again as I just keep feeding my cock up her ass. Inch after inch disappears inside of her, my balls churning with cum and my pulse roaring, until finally, I’m all the way inside.

  Delilah lets out a low, gasping moan, and I grunt with my balls resting on her pussy.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she whimpers deeply. I hiss, and my fingers dig into her hips. A red mist of lust washes over my vision, until all I see is where we join. Slowly, I slide out of her, groaning in pure pleasure as her tight ring grips my cock tightly. I slip slowly out of her ass, leaving just the head inside as she moans gutturally.

  “More,” she gasps, and with a grunt, I push back inside.

  My grip tightens as I slide out, and then right back in, and slowly, the beast inside of me begins to take over. I snarl like an animal as I start to slowly saw in and out of her impossibly tight, hot little ass. Delilah moans in ecstasy, gasping in pleasure as she rubs her clit, and my thick cock plunges into her.

  I growl, sliding one hand up the curve of her back until my fingers tangle in her long blonde hair. I wrap it in a fist, tugging her head back as she squeals in pleasure. I lean over her, my teeth raking her neck and my lips teasing her skin as I push my hips forward, fucking my cock into her ass. She claws at the edge of the tub with one hand, the other reaching back to grip the back of my neck, keep my mouth on her neck and collarbone.

  I slide my hand around her hip and down between her legs to rub her clit, and she starts to tremble all over. Her legs shake, and her ass fucking grips me like a vice as she moans like no woman I have ever heard.

  “Gabriel!” she cries out. “Gabriel… FUCK. I’m—oh my God. Oh my God, you’re so fucking deep! Oh GOD!”

  My fingers roll over her clit and my teeth drag over her neck as I thrust into her, and suddenly, I can feel her shatter for me. She squeals in pleasure, and her entire body seems to convulse around me as the orgasm detonates through her. I groan, pumping into her again and again right through her climax, until the feel of her coming over and over for me is too much to resist.

  With a roar, I bury my cock to the hilt in her hot little ass, and I let go.

  My cum blasts deep into her, rope after sticky hot rope filling her over and over again. Delilah chokes out a moan, trembling as she pushes back and clings to me so tightly. I slow to a stop, panting and wrapping my arms around her as I just hold myself there, so fucking deep in her.

  “That…” she slowly murmurs, panting as her chest heaves and her body tremors with her aftershocks. “That was… actual heaven.”

  I grin and pull her tighter to me, kissing her back. I work my way down and gently pull out of her before I turn her around and wrap her in my arms. We sink into the bubbling water, panting, our hearts racing. And slowly I turn into her to kiss her neck, and her cheek, and when she turns to meet me, her soft lips.

  I’ve gone my entire life without finding religion. And now, I think I may have gone and stumbled ass-backwards into something even fucking better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gabriel

  I almost actually do convince her to stay the night. Fuck me, after what we did in that tub, I want her to that night, the next night, and every fucking night for the rest of my life.

  But in the end, I know she’s right: she can’t stay the whole night with me. As it is, she’s told her parents she’s staying late at a friend’s house for bible study. She could lie some more and mention she’s just staying the whole night, but it’s too risky, and I’m not telling her to lie to her parents even more.

  After the tub, I wrap her in a towel and bring her into the Winnebago. We do actually fall asleep with her head on my chest, but she’s up somewhere around midnight giggling and swearing that she needs to run now. I manage to keep her for one more kiss before I walk her back to the truck and watch her drive away.

  I sleep like the fucking dead, and for the first time in a while, I don’t feel the need to use chemicals to fall asleep. That is, until somewhere around eight when the fist starts banging like hell on my Winnebago’s door.

  “The fuck…?” I grumble, half rolling out of bed. I manage to pull boxers on before I trudge to the door and open it, wincing at the light.

  “You’re helping me raise those funds, Marsden.”

  I frown, still blind from the morning sun. “Who the fuck…”

  “Get out here.”

  I grunt as a fist grabs my shoulder and yanks me out through the doorway. I hiss as I stumble, but I catch myself, whirl, and my fist is up before I blink in surprise.

  “Paul?”

  Delilah’s brother narrows his eyes and his arms fold over his chest as he smiles thinly.

  “Morning, preacher,” he half sneers.

  Shit. My first thought is that Delilah got busted sneaking home last night, and spilled everything, and now Paul is here to put a shotgun up my ass for laying hands on his sister. I eye him, and my gaze darts down to check if I can see any tell-tale holsters or guns tucked into belts.

  “What can I do for you, Paul?” I growl thinly.

  He grins. “Like I said, Mr. Marsden, you can help me raise the rest of funds I’m gonna need before I, well…” he smiles smugly at me. “I guess we both know what you know, don’t we?”

  I suck on my teeth. “Paul, I’m not sure what you’re—”

  “You looked at my laptop, Gabriel,” he says flatly. “I saw you through the window, and then I checked last opened files after you left to confirm it. And yeah, you did. You know what my plans are.”

  I nod, clearing my throat. “Paul, I don’t honestly care what your plans for the future are. I’m leaving Canaan in two days, and after that, I don’t even need to remember how to spell it. Whatever you’re trying to do here, this ain’t my
town, and whatever this is ain’t my fight.”

  His smile widens, and he chuckles. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing, Gabriel,” he sneers. “Now it is.”

  “Paul—”

  “I know what you are, preacher,” he hisses.

  I clear my throat again. “Now, Paul, I am but a humble servant of the—”

  “Shut up, Gabriel,” he spits. “Seriously, just shut up and stop bullshitting for once!”

  Not that easily, dipshit. I’ve played this role eight shows a week for years. I am this role.

  “Listen, Paul. God does hear us, even when you don’t think he’s listen—”

  Paul groans. “Oh enough, Gabriel. I know what you are. I called some people I know, made some connections, called some more people.”

  His smile thins as he glares at me.

  “Oh, people know you, Gabriel Marsden. You’re not exactly welcomed in a few of the towns you’ve been in before, now are you?”

  Shit. “The, uh, the path of the righteous is full of potholes and setba—”

  “Gabriel!” Paul roars. “Shut up! A little place named Lockton, South Dakota wants to burn you at the stake.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Seems you defiled a minister’s wife, you bastard.”

  I frown and hold a hand up. “Okay, actually, that one’s not tr—”

  “Bullshit!” he bellows. “I—”

  “No, Paul, you weren’t there,” I snap. “She was mad because I didn’t defile her, so she went and told everyone I did, so that they’d run me out of town.”

  Paul stares at me, and I sigh.

  “It’s… it sounds more complicated than it actually was.”

  He sneers. “You’re a phony.”

  “Eh, it’s a thin line.”

  He snorts. “I wonder if Delilah would like to know who you are?”

  I’m smart enough to keep my mouth the fuck closed after that one, but Paul’s lips curl up at the corners.

  “Or maybe, she already does?” He glares at me, his smile thin and cold. “She spends a lot of time with you, doesn’t she, Gabriel?”

  I still say nothing, and his look hardens.

  “Bible study, right, Gabriel?” he hisses. “Teaching her the scripture, are you? Or are you just putting your filthy fucking hands on my sister?”

  “Calm down,” I growl. I start to move towards him, because to say Paul seems unhinged right now is a fucking understatement, and I want to get him down and before he does something insane.

  He barks out a laugh. “Calm down? Calm down?” He starts to laugh before he reaches behind him and yanks his hand back out.

  Ahh, fuck.

  Yeah, this time he’s holding a gun.

  “Paul, listen to me,” I growl. “You need to calm down before you—”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says coldly, cutting me off. “You’re going to help me with the rest of that money I need.”

  “And how on earth would I do that. You want me to pass the offering plate for, what, the other two million you need to hit your goal on that land deal in Costa Rica?”

  His eyes harden dangerously, but he smiles.

  “I need you to marry me, Gabriel.”

  I arch a brow. “Well you could take me someplace nice first and ask like a gentleman, Paul, I mean really.”

  He stares at me. “Is everything a fucking joke to you?” he growls lowly. “I mean you need to marry me to my fiancée, Lizzie.”

  I make a face and whistle lowly. “Hey, Paul? The gun you’re pointing at me aside, I need to do you a favor and save you a whole lot of shit later. You really shouldn’t marry Lizzie.”

  He grins, and he starts to laugh. “Actually marry her? Jesus Christ, Gabriel, no. No fucking way. Lizzie Purcell is trash, but her family is beyond rich, and I promised to cut her on a small percent if she helps me, since she just found out she’s being written out of her dad’s will.”

  I frown. “What exactly am I helping you with?”

  “You’re marrying us. If we’re married before that new will goes into effect, I can basically help myself to her dad’s money in her trust fund.”

  I shake my head. “Paul, you’re doing a shell game, right?”

  He frowns.

  “The con,” I sigh. “The game you’re playing, it’s called a shell game. You’re putting everything through a trust so you look legit, and then bullshit companies owned by you suck it dry.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  I wince. “Well, if you’re married, the fund dissolves, and the donations go back from whence they came.”

  You fucking idiot, I manage to refrain from saying out loud.

  Paul starts to laugh. “No shit, Gabriel. That’s why you’re marrying us. Because you’re a bullshit fake preacher, but everyone thinks you’re the real deal. It means the town clerk will push it through, and I’ll get joint access to her accounts. And then the trust stays right where it is because we’re not really married, since you’re a phony piece of shit.”

  I say nothing, and I just look at him.

  He grins triumphantly.

  “You’re going to help me, Gabriel. Or I tell this whole goddamn town what you are. And it won’t hurt you, I know that, asshole,” he sneers. “You’ll just do what you always do and leave and never come back.”

  His smile widens.

  “But it’ll kill Delilah. Twice—once when you leave, and then when the whole town hates her for harboring and abetting you, knowing full well that you were a con man.”

  My mouth stays shut, and my eyes hold his as he chuckles and waves the gun at me.

  “I don’t care what you’re doing with my sister, Gabriel. I mean, my dad might, and he’s probably legitimately going to kill you when he finds out. But before then, you help me, and you might have a shot of making the Mexican border before he runs you off the road. So what do you say, asshole?”

  “You’re making a mistake,” I growl thinly.

  He shakes his head. “Get my fucking money, Gabriel. Or I’ll nail you to a fucking cross.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Delilah

  “Well, someone was up late!”

  I look up from my lunch in horror, my face draining of color. But my mother is just smiling at me in her usual way, and I take a shaky breath. I force a smile to my own face, and shrug.

  “Oh, yeah, kinda went down the rabbit hole with Melanie about charitable outreach to third world counties, and if converting them to Christ is something that needs to be part of that, or if just helping how you can is the more Christian thing to do, without worrying about who they’ll pray to after.”

  I almost stumble over my own words, and I’m, immediately a little started by just how easily the lie rolled off my tongue. Because discussing missionary work with Melanie Krupa is not what I was doing last night. No, last night, I was letting myself go, with Gabriel.

  I was… sinning, I suppose, but in the most incredible way I’ve ever imagined sin to feel. I lost myself with him, and yet, I feel found.

  I blush. I also feel a little sore, but in a deliciously heated way that’s still sending little fluttering feelings through my core.

  My father, sitting across from me at the table on the back porch, puts down the political thriller he’s re-reading for the fortieth time, and he grins. “Well, shoot, Christina,” he chuckles, glancing at my mother. “She’s your daughter all right with those smarts.”

  I roll my eyes and look back at my sandwich to avoid the shame of lies on my face. To be clear, I don’t feel bad about last night. I don’t feel like I’m going to Hell, or lost, or damned. But I do feel bad about lying to my own parents.

  “I think I woke up to you coming upstairs,” mama chuckles. “And I believe it was close to midnight!”

  “It was twelve thirty,” Paul mutters as he steps out of the backdoor with his laptop and stack of files in his hands. He eyes me, but he doesn’t say anything else before he slumps into a chair in front of a sandwich my mother has made for him. My
father glances at him over the top of his book and scowls a little before looking back to the pages.

  Papa and Paul are “at it again,” as my mother informed me when I finally stumbled downstairs this morning. Apparently, there was a blowout fight late last night after I left for “bible study,” and apparently, it was a bad one.

  It’s not the first time my parents—particularly my father—and Paul have argued about, well, several things. Him leaving home for a little bit before he even finished high school was a big one, but they forgave him and took him back in. Then there was the DUI he got after finally graduating, and again, they put it aside. When Paul “left” the school my parents had scraped together money to send him to, it was pretty clear even to me that it was less of a voluntary “leaving” and more of a “being asked to leave situation.”

  But they still took him back. Forgiveness runs strong in our family, I guess.

  But his upcoming marriage to Lizzie Purcell has been a pretty hot topic for months now. For one, because he been completely wishy-washy on when they might actually be getting married, and for two, because Lizzie has never once even spoken to my parents since they got engaged. Which is… weird, to say the least.

  She and Paul have never come over for dinner, she’s never even called my mother—her future mother-in-law—to even say hi. On top of that, it’s not even like they’re a couple who like their privacy or anything, or like they’re one of those “they’re so opposite it’s cute” situations. It’s like they’re not a couple at all. Plus, Lizzie is just… I wrinkle my nose. She’s not exactly a nice, warm person. None of the Purcells are, actually. They’re one of the oldest families in Canaan, but Thomas Purcell, her father who owns and presides over the Purcell Savings and Loans Bank in downtown, mostly walks around town as if he’s a king and we’re all his lowly subjects.

  Bottom line, Lizzie is a cold, snobby, rich girl, which makes it extra strange that she’s marrying a middle-class college drop out who’s trying to build a church and be a small-town minister.