The Priest: Bratva Blood Five: (A Dark Mafia Romance)

by SR Jones

  Roze screams and rushes to him, her hands all over his wet, sleek shoulders as she asks if he’s okay.

  He pulls away from her and stares at me. For a moment, I honestly think I’m going to have to kill him or he’ll kill me, but then he laughs. His face splits into a big grin, and he chuckles it up, the fucking psycho.

  “Nice right hook.” He rubs at his jaw, which will be bruised to hell in a few hours.

  “Don’t make us leave,” Roze begs him. I hate hearing her beg him. I want her to beg me, and for darker things than she’s asking for right now. “I’ve moved around so much the last few days, and I’m really tired. I’m sorry about Priest.”

  Oh no, she didn’t. She doesn’t apologize for me.

  “I’m not going to make you leave,” Bianchi says. “You’re both far too entertaining for that. However, Mr. Priest. That’s your only pass. You touch me like that again, and you’ll be dead and buried.”

  He walks by me and at the last moment, quick as a flash, delivers a one-two punch to my gut, and an upper cut under my jaw.

  Fuck me, that hurt. He was so quick I didn’t react. And I have damn good reactions. I stare at him, mildly shocked.

  He laughs again. “What? You think the pretty playboy can’t fight? I’m a fucking black belt in two martial arts, and a champion boxer. Now, you have poundage on me, but I’d bet I have speed on you. If you want to throw down? We can. I’m thinking, though, your lady here prefers your face as it is, not black and blue.”

  With those words, he turns back to Roze, lifts her hand and kisses it, and then strolls toward the lounge chairs where he takes a seat and starts to fuck about on his phone.

  I’m filled with a grudging respect for him. He could have made us leave. Thrown us out. Instead, he gave me as good as I gave him. He is fast too. Well trained.

  “You’re such a stupid neanderthal,” Roze fumes. “You ruin every single bit of happiness and moment of fun. Do you know that?”

  She storms past me and flounces up the steps to the house.

  “You better go after your lady,” Bianchi says.

  “She’s my client; not my lady,” I reply by rote.

  “Yes, of course. You keep telling yourself that. Word of advice, though?”

  I pause and turn to him. “She’s stupendously sexy. You don’t take her, someone else will.”

  “Like you?” I demand.

  He shakes his head. “Oh no, not me. Not my type.”

  What red-blooded male wouldn’t want Roze?

  “Too nice for you, huh?” I add a smile to show I’m messing with him.

  “Nope. My type is an American redhead. Librarian. Twenty-two. Naïve to the point of it being painful. Wears the worst clothes you’ve ever seen, with a body to rival Jessica Rabbit under them.”

  “That’s a very precise description,” I observe.

  “That would be because she’s a real person. I only met her once, three years ago now. It was at her father’s estate. The old man died last year. She’s alone. The only one left, and I know she cares about keeping the place going. The money is running out. She has no one. Her job at the local library sucks and pays fuck all. The bills on her ancestral home must be extortionate.” Bianchi laughs. It’s a cold, brutal sound, not the easy chuckle of before. “Her father, he screwed me over once. Now, I’m going to return the favor. I need a librarian, and the post pays too well for her to turn it down, but she’s going to become so much more. I never let anyone get away with cheating me in the way he did, but he died before I could show him what happens to men like him. He’d die all over again if he could see me bed his precious daughter. He’ll turn over in his grave when I marry her.”

  Okay, he’s fucking insane.

  “You’re going to marry some chick you’ve only met once, in order to piss off a dead man? That sounds more like taking revenge on yourself.”

  “You’ve not seen Amelia.”

  “Well, knock yourself out.” I turn away from the psycho financier and focus on going after Roze.

  “You might think I’m crazy,” he says to my back. “At least I take what I want.”

  “You don’t have her yet,” I point out without turning around.

  “I will.”

  His determination is as cold as the breeze that blows over us.

  I feel a brief flash of pity for this Amelia woman he’s set his sights on. It’s her choice, though, to get involved with him or not. If she has any sense at all about her, she’ll run far away.

  By the time I catch up with Roze, she’s in her bedroom, and she’s packing a bag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  “Bianchi said we don’t have to leave.”

  “I’m leaving you, Priest. I’ve had it. I can’t take anymore. You’re up and down. Hot and cold. You talk to me like I’m a fucking child. You’re rude. You’re belittling. You always manage to say something to make me feel like shit. Well, I’ve had enough. You’re too cold for me.”

  She thinks I’m cold. There’s nothing cold about me. I’m burning up, for her.

  Throwing a sweater into the bag she has open on the bed, and where the hell did she get the fancy bag from, she pushes past me to go back to the closet.

  I grab her arm. “Roze, stop. I’m sorry.”

  She’s too far gone, though. Too livid. Too pissed off and hurt, and she’s right. I have been a dick.

  “Take your damn hand off me,” she orders.

  I don’t. “Listen to me.”

  “Oh, my God. No. Stop bossing me around. Let go.”

  “No.”

  She stares at me for a second, and then she slaps me. Right across my face, she slaps me.

  We both freeze.

  Then I’m moving.

  I grab her, one hand in her hair, the other on her upper arm as I walk her back until she hits the wall. I don’t give her the chance to speak. My mouth crashes down on hers, and I show her how so not cold I am.

  I let go.

  I let go and take what I wanted all along.

  I let go, and I devour her.

  Chapter 17

  Stars explode behind my eyes as the pleasure centers in my brain go haywire. This is nothing like the kiss in the pool room. This is pure Priest, giving me his all. It’s wild. Wilder than any of the adrenaline thrills I’ve had so far in my life. If this is how crazy hot his kisses are, what will sex with him be like?

  Have I bitten off more than I can chew?

  He’s tasting, licking, exploring my mouth, biting my lip, holding me tight so I can’t move, but I can only give what he’s demanding.

  It’s pure dominance, and I love it.

  I want more of it.

  He doesn’t disappoint.

  Stopping the kiss, he stares at me. “Last chance. Tell me you don’t want me.”

  I smile at him and slowly and carefully, I say. “I want you.”

  He grabs the towel I have still wrapped around me and throws it to one side. His big hands take hold of the straps of the bathing suit I’m wearing, and he yanks it down my body. He does it hard enough for it to sting, but I welcome the burn. It’s just more sensation. My nipples are like bullets in the cool air of the room. My skin is still damp under the Lycra, and he groans and bends his head.

  Heat and wet engulf the cold, hard tip of one breast, and I arch my back to give him more. He sucks my nipple in hard, and adds a light bite, making me gasp.

  I hate my nipples being licked, always seems more ticklish than erotic to me. Priest doesn’t do that; instead, he sucks hard, and it’s as if a line between my nipple and my clit that I didn’t know existed is activated.

  My fingers curl into his hair, and I love the heavy feel of it moving through them. It’s so soft. A contrast to the hardness of the rest of him.

  He kneels and kisses under my breast, across my ribcage, and then down to my belly. Priest raises his face, and for a moment there’s nothing but his stormy blue eyes. Then his lashes shutter down,
and he bends his head, kissing me right above my Lycra covered core.

  Hands gripping tight, he pulls the last bit of fabric away from my most secret place and rips the bathing suit down my legs. I step out of it, and part of me wants to cover myself. I’m so exposed like this. Naked. Cold. Damp skin.

  He kisses me right on my mound, almost reverential. Soft kisses. Another contrast. He takes and demands, and then he slows it down and shows almost unbearable tenderness.

  Each time he switches up gears, he somehow owns a bit more of my heart.

  He pushes my legs apart and spreads my folds with two thick fingers.

  For a moment, he simply stares.

  “Priest,” I manage to make a strangled plea.

  I don’t know what I’m begging for. Except him staring at me right there is making me throb and ache and need something so much more.

  “So pretty,” he says.

  Then he lowers his mouth, and his tongue flicks right over my clit. Yes, this is what my body wants. I’ve been on edge for days around this man. I touched myself in bed alone, but it didn’t help much, beyond an instant and short relief. All along, I wanted him to be the one touching me.

  Now, he is.

  He licks at my core and slowly pushes one finger inside me. I sigh and arch into his touch. I’ve had tampons, my vibe, and my own fingers inside me before. It’s not as if being a virgin means I’m totally untouched in that sense. It’s not a shock to feel him there. It is hot, though.

  He’s the first man inside of me.

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He drives me crazy half the time, but from the moment I saw him in that doorway, dressed in camo, I knew. He was mine.

  Priest sucks my clit into his mouth, and it’s a new, almost overwhelming sensation. I cry out, and he crooks his finger inside me, pressing on something I haven’t felt before, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders.

  Shit. I’m going to come. I try to tell him, but before I get the words out, it sweeps over me. I hold onto him for dear life as I come hard, my clit pulsing and my inner muscles gripping his fingers.

  Holy hell.

  I drop my head back against the wall, my legs shaking as Priest stands. He looks at me, and I look right back. As our eyes lock, he brings the finger that was inside me to his mouth and sucks my juices from his skin.

  My eyes widen. That’s filthy. And undeniably hot.

  I glance down and see his massive erection. Those jeans aren’t loose, and it must be painful for him pressed up against that hard denim. I reach out and press the flat of my hand against him. He sucks in a breath, and I press harder, moving my hand up and down.

  Jesus, he feels big. I mean, I thought he might be because his muscle isn’t all from the gym. He’s naturally big built and tall too, but I once read the whole big hands, big dick thing was a myth. With Priest, at least, it seems to be holding up.

  I want to see him. All of him.

  “Take your t-shirt off,” I tell him as I undo the button on his jeans.

  He does as I say. Arms up, he pulls it off over his head, and I glance at the big ridges of muscle running down from his waist to his hips on either side. The perfect V shape is formed by those powerful muscles, and it makes my mouth water.

  Fingers shaking, I manage to undo his zip as he throws the t-shirt to one side. Then I push the material down his thick thighs.

  I take hold of him, tentative at first as I’m suddenly feeling out of my depth and unsure. I run my hand up and down his length. Glancing at him, the fire in his gaze tells me I’m doing something right. I continue to stroke up and down his length and tighten my grip a little.

  “Yeah, AJ, like that,” he says.

  AJ. So maybe him using that name doesn’t make me one of the boys, because he sure as hell isn’t seeing me that way right now.

  I move my hand faster, and a bead of moisture pearls in the slit at the top of his cock. I want to taste him, but I’m not sure if I’ll be a disappointment.

  “You better stop that if you want to get to the main course.” His hand closes around mine, stopping it.

  I must have been doing something right then.

  “Come here,” he says with a groan as he pulls me into him, his arms coming around me, hands sweeping up and down my back as he kisses me.

  Our bodies are pressed together, skin on skin. Our lips and tongues are tangling, and his hands are all over my back. It is glorious. Just this, a kiss, and it has me all wound up for him again. I moan and press into him, his hard length against my stomach, and my pussy against his thigh. I shamelessly ride his thigh, getting the pressure I need.

  “Jesus,” he mutters as he tears his mouth from mine.

  He kicks his jeans off from around his ankles, picks me up and holds me in his arms, as if he’s carrying me over the threshold as he takes me to the bed. Placing me down on it, he stares at me for a long moment, then he climbs over me.

  My arms snake around his neck, and I pull him in for more kissing. I can’t get enough of his mouth on mine. He kisses me as if he’s dying of hunger, and I’m his food, and it’s so intoxicating I could get drunk on it.

  Our bodies are moving together as if on their own accord, skin slipping against skin, hands everywhere, and then he’s there.

  His, let’s be honest, massive cock is at my core, and he pushes in a little.

  I freeze, and so does he.

  “Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he says.

  I hadn’t even thought about that, which shows how stupid I am. “I’m on the injection, and I’m clean.” Obviously, I’m clean because I haven’t had sex before. I still get a checkup yearly anyway, and my last one was three months ago, and I was in perfect health in the lady zone.

  “I’m clean. Checked every year, and haven’t had sex since the last one.”

  “So, we don’t need a condom,” I say.

  He grins, kisses me, and pushes in a little more, pulsing his hips and groaning. “Going to fuck you bare,” he growls.

  I. Haven’t. Done. This. Before.

  He pushes in some more, and I wince. Oh, wow, okay. That’s … tight.

  “Priest,” I gasp.

  “Yeah, baby,” he kisses my neck, still shallow thrusting.

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  He lifts his head and looks at me, a divot between his eyes.

  “What? Done it bare? Me either. Always glove up. You’re going to feel so fucking good.”

  “No, I mean, this. The whole thing. Sex. I haven’t had sex before.”

  He doesn’t move. Not one muscle moves. He’s as still as a statue.

  “You’re a virgin?”

  I can see it already. The shutters are going to come down. He’s going to walk away from me, again. Purely because of one fact that means nothing. Not really.

  “Yes. And you’re about to freak out and walk away, but if you do, I’ll never forgive you.” I stare at him. My arms tighten around him. “I want you, Priest,” I whisper. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. I don’t want to be a virgin anyway. And if you don’t take it, I’ll only end up screwing some guy I meet in a club, who is too drunk to remember it the next day. The way most of my friends lost theirs. This is better. This is what I want.”

  He pulls out of me, and tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

  “Priest,” I choke out.

  “Not going anywhere, baby,” he says, his voice thick.

  “Gonna make sure you’re ready for me, is all.” He settles between my legs and pushes my thighs apart and he uses that damn talented mouth on me until I’m panting and writhing, and right about to come again. Just when I’m about to tip over the edge, he stops.

  Kissing every bit of my skin, he climbs his way up my body, and then he’s there again. Where I want him; where I need him.

  He hooks one of my legs up over his hips and pushes a finger deep inside me. He works me open, adding a second, and finally a third finger, and he keeps pressing on
that magical spot inside that makes me see stars. It also makes me moan loudly, and I turn my face into the pillow to stop the noise.

  Rough fingers grip my chin, and he turns me to look at him. “I want your noises, and I want your eyes on me. I want it all.”

  Oh, God, his words melt me.

  He crooks his fingers and presses. I whimper as wetness covers his fingers and my thighs as desire pulses through me.

  “Fuck, yes, that’s it, baby.”

  I push up against his hand, taking what I need.

  When he removes his fingers and lines his cock up, I’m not afraid, just needy.

  I want him inside me, filling me.

  He pushes in, and at first, it feels great, and then it feels tight, but he withdraws, and pushes in again, slow, steady.

  He’s breathing as hard as me.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

  He continues to withdraw before he pushes a bit further in and then, pain.

  Oh my God.

  I clench down automatically, and he stops. Kissing my neck, he whispers in my ear, “Trust me. Relax for me.”

  I do trust him. He might drive me crazy, but I trust him with my life.

  I breathe out and relax my stomach muscles, and my internal muscles follow suit.

  “This will hurt, but it’ll get better.” He surges inside me, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” Priest orders.

  I open my eyes and look at him.

  “That’s the hard part.”

  It is? It still hurts.

  He moves, and he’s kind of just staying where he is but pulsing inside me. He’s deep and it feels … strange. Not painful now, though. The sting is easing.

  His thumb finds my clit and strokes me as he keeps on making shallow movements inside me. Oh, okay, that’s nice. He’s hitting deep inside, but it feels good. A mix of pleasure and pain, but not the sharp pain of before, but a deep ache that I want more of.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, working to take all of me. So perfect.”

  His words turn me on.

  His thumb keeps on stroking my clit, making me all hot for this again.

  “Gonna fuck you properly now, baby. If it hurts, tell me.”