Preacher Dom

by Lucian Bane

  “But you’re offended about it.”

  “Whatever, Daniel, I don’t want to talk about it. You asked what I was doing before this. I was in real-estate after college, making a very decent, honest living. I wasn’t always the star however, I had to carve that out for myself. Up until the tenth grade, I was the biggest, fat, loser. Then an inspirational speaker made an appearance at our school and it changed my life. I changed my life and I never turned back since.” Shame forced her head down, burning her cheeks at realizing that wasn’t exactly correct anymore.

  “You can get that right back.”

  The gentleness in his tone, the encouragement, made her want to break down and bawl. She’d not heard that tone in so long. She’d been fighting for forever, alone, and look where she was. “I don’t blame God, you know,” she muttered. “And I do believe in Him. Did I tell you that already?” she wondered, bringing the cup to her lips and sipping.

  “Not that I recall,” Daniel said.

  “A lot of things I think so loud that my mind considers them spoken.”

  “I’m glad you believe.”

  “I mean I know it’s not God’s fault where I’m at, I know I’m the one making the decisions,” she went on, feeling like she needed to get that straight between them. “I’m not one of these people that like to pin all their problems on God. Or the devil. That’s not me. I take responsibility for my actions.”

  “Good,” he said, his tone still gentle with a hint of curiosity that she had to oblige and would have had he not followed with, “Can I pray for you?”

  She eyed him, suddenly confused and worried by the way he asked it. Just like when he’d asked if he could get her a drink. “Uh. Sure?”

  He suddenly stood and her heart thumped in her chest as he walked up to her. “Do you mind if I put my hand on you?” he asked.

  “Uh. Will this... hurt? I mean I’m not going to fall out of my chair and writhe on the floor or anything, am I?”

  He actually laughed, flashing perfectly imperfect teeth, if there was such a thing. But the way it transformed his stern face into something... totally different, held her spell bound. “I highly doubt it,” he finally said, slowly turning back to serious as he held his hand up, hovering near. “Just on your head,” he said.

  Oh God. Just her head. “Okay,” she barely squeaked, fighting to get enough breath for some reason. “I’m so nervous,” she gasped, setting her cup down on the floor before returning to an upright position and wondering what to do with her hands. She put them in her lap several different ways then decided she’d better hold on to the arms of the chair. What if she shit a demon, her life was infested with them.

  Like he read her mind, he said, “You have nothing to fear.”

  His promise matched the soft, warm press of his hand, exactly on the top of her head. She was suddenly held immobile in a strange, intimate bubble. She closed her eyes, just feeling it, fighting to calm down. She didn’t want to pass out, she wanted to experience what she felt coming. Some deep part of her knew she needed whatever it was and that whatever it was, would change everything.

  “Father,” he began. “I want to thank you with all that I am, for bringing me to Nineveh.”

  She couldn’t stop the gasp those passionate words evoked. The reverent way he said them and the personal way he addressed God had her trembling with realization. The man had opened Heaven’s door and walked right into God’s throne room and she was there, with him, where she had no business being.

  “All Your ways are so perfect, Father. Every day, you blow me away with your mercy and love. I’m asking that you touch Nineveh’s heart, Father. Touch it in such a way that it’s real and she knows down to her bones how passionately in love you are with her and care about every detail of her life.”

  Nineveh couldn’t stop the tears, they came unbidden, like her dirty soul wept in desperate hunger for the warmth racing through her veins as her spirit came alive and sucked it all in.

  “But we know the enemy, Father. He will come as a hungry lion, seeking to devour. I thank you for your wisdom and discernment, the power to meet every devil and crush them. I thank you for preparing me for this day, for the tears and blood I’ve shed that has made me the man I need to be today for her.”

  His fingers had tensed on her head and Nineveh gripped the chair tighter in response. The power in his words turned the warmth inside her into a heat that stole her breath. The words echoed, whirring in her head, and then, he released her, removed his hand from her head. And it all shut off, like a conduit closing.

  Nineveh was afraid to open her eyes. She didn’t know how else to describe what he’d done other than the most intense, spiritual orgasm ever. But as the feeling slowly faded, the need to hide herself was almost overwhelming. She wanted to tell him to look away, let her get dressed but she knew it was silly, it didn’t make sense.

  “I’m sorry if I freaked you out. How do you feel?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Freaked me out? I don’t think that’s the right description.”

  “I felt it,” he said.

  She looked up at him and found that pensive gaze waiting to brutalize her. She couldn’t turn away from it as it searched her. “What did you feel?” she whispered, hoping it wasn’t what she was flooded with in that second. Overwhelming arousal. But it was like... he’d... mended something in her, connected disconnect parts. Surely these parts didn’t belong together. Surely she wasn’t supposed to want to fall on her knees before him and beg for... God help her, she was stained. Deformed. Crippled with the sin of kink.

  “I felt the power of God going in you. Tell me what that felt like.”

  She shook her head a little then closed her eyes. “I just... need to think and process. I need a moment. Where is the bathroom?”

  “Let me carry you--”

  “No!” she shot out her hand toward him. “I got it. My knee is fine.”

  “Really?” he asked, sounding happy, like he attributed it to his prayer.

  Then she stood and there was no pain, freaking her out more. “Yeah, really,” she whispered.

  “That door there,” he pointed to the right of the room, watching her slowly walk, testing her weight.

  “Yes, really. Oh my God. Dear God, oh my God.” She made it to the bathroom and closed the door right as he said, “Praise be to God.” And the passion in those words hit her vagina like a glorious, dirty bomb.

  She was in big trouble, now. This had to be blasphemy. She was the Whore of Babylon.

  Chapter Four

  Daniel wanted to be alone just so he could get on his face and thank God for how well that went. He’d never felt so much power rushing through him. He’d laid his hands on many prisoners, and several had been soul shattering but there was something more with her, something he’d never experienced. It was insanely… exhilarating. He could only imagine how awesome it had been to her. She’d been totally shaken to bits, he could see. And her knee. Healed. Hell yeah.

  He hurried to the fridge, wanting to fix something for her to eat in case she was hungry. He opened the fridge to Gramma’s kick-ass stock. She fed him like a king, so he had everything imaginable. He decided on something easy, pulling out the ingredients for a midnight breakfast. Bacon, eggs, biscuits, hash browns, grits. Damn, now he was hungry.

  He recalled her earlier anger in response to the dirty details. What was that all about? He would ask but he didn’t want to piss her off again. Had to be shame, maybe. Sometimes it showed itself through anger. He’d need to go easy on her. She was strong but he had a feeling she was at the end of her strength. He knew what it was like to come back from combat and live in a “safe” environment. It was another form of hell. Because your body didn’t know how to put the safety on. It was in perpetual locked-and-loaded, with a hair trigger. And any little sight, sound, smell, touch, or taste could set you off. The world was its own combat zone and a soldier accustomed to warfare never left the battlefield.

  “Is it okay i
f I get a shower?” she called from a crack in the bathroom door. “Do you have any old clothes I can borrow?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I do. Towels are in the closet and—”

  “I can find my way around. Thank you.”

  Good, he would have the food fixed by then. Wonder what that tone was all about. Not a tone, really, just… something different. Almost felt like she was avoiding him. Was she embarrassed?

  He went to his room and found some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Damn, they would swallow her whole. The sweat pants had a draw string. He wondered about under garments then. He found a pair of black briefs, prepared to at least offer. He’d just… treat her like a sister. Didn’t have to be awkward.

  “Here you go,” he called at the bathroom door.

  The door opened and her arm shot out, fingers wide. He draped the clothes over her forearm when he realized she couldn’t hold the wad in her wagging, waiting fingers.

  “I uh, loaned you something for underneath. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want.”

  “Men’s underwear,” she said after a few seconds. “Cool. I always wanted to wear a pair.”

  He was sure it was sarcasm but that was better than awkward.

  Back in the kitchen, he got busy cooking. By the time she came out, he had both their plates loaded and on the snack bar, his half gone. “Made you some food,” he said, trying not to look at her as she came over.

  “I smelled it. I thought I wasn’t hungry but wow, this smells so good,” she said, sounding happy.

  He chanced a look at her and was met with hard nipples through a white t-shirt. Christ almighty, what was he thinking?

  “What?” She looked down and gasped. “Oh my God!” she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted, “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying…”

  “I know you weren’t,” she cried. “I’m the one sorry, I washed my undergarments and planned to ask if you had a dryer.” She pulled her black hair forward, covering that area. “I had intended to cover them Eve style. Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Already forgotten.” Wow, huge lie. Sorry God, new territory here.

  “I’m sure,” she blurted. “I probably have the most inconsequential breasts. Holy mother of shit bombs,” she whispered, taking her plate off the snack bar and hurrying to the recliner. “I ramble stupid shit when I’m embarrassed. I’ll bite my tongue. Better yet, I’ll eat.”

  Daniel didn’t know whether to laugh or argue or try and agree somehow. He sat there, finishing his food, saying nothing instead.

  “This is so good,” she moaned.

  Daniel’s gaze went to her tiny feet, particularly the ink peeking out of the leg of the jogging pants.

  “Now what?”

  He snapped his gaze to hers, ready to swear at realizing she’d caught him staring again. “I was looking at your ink,” he said.

  “Oh!” She lifted her right leg and turned her foot, pulling the material up. “I like angel wings,” she said, revealing the tip of a huge one. “It goes all the way up my body.” She aimed a smile at him as he struggled with what to say. He wanted to see it, which he realized he couldn’t.

  “I’m sure it’s amazing.”

  She was back to eating and gave a shrug. “The fucker that put it was a sadist. Kind of ruined the whole experience for me. Felt like I’d been crucified for hours,” she mumbled around her food.

  Daniel stood and came around the snack bar, sitting on the same stool he had earlier. “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch.”

  “As if,” she argued with a mouthful, brows pinched. “I’ll take the couch, you take your bed.”

  “No,” he said, with finality. “You get the bed. Or I will sleep in the car.”

  She wrinkled her face, making him smile. She pointed her fork at him. “You should do that more.”

  “Do what, boss you around?”

  She shook her head. “Smile. You look totally different.”

  “I take it a better different,” he said, biting back said smile.

  She chewed her food, regarding him with squinted eyes. “I’m torn, actually. I like your mean face a lot.”

  “Mean,” he said, laughing outright at that one. “I’m like the least mean person on the planet.”

  She raised her brows at him, shoving another piece of bacon in her mouth. “Sure. But it’s not a bad mean. I like that part too. More like…” she paused, considering before turning her blue eyes to him. “Authoritative. Like I would expect a good Dom to be.” She narrowed her brows. “Are you a Dom? That would explain a lot.”

  “A Dom,” Daniel said, wanting to laugh. “And what would that explain, me being a Dom.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, stuffing her mouth with the last of her biscuit. “Not sure I should tell that.”

  Daniel rubbed his hand on the back of his head, standing. “Then don’t. I’m gonna get my pillow and blanket, and crash. I got work in the morning.”

  “You work? Where?” she wondered, appearing suddenly worried.

  “At the Last Supper. I got a job there. Washing dishes.” He shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere, right?”

  “That is a very honorable job, yes,” she said, standing and making her way to the kitchen. Daniel forced himself to stare at the floor in case she forgot to cover herself. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

  “You can keep Gramma company,” he suggested, keeping his back to her. “Or hide out in here. Just don’t leave the house.”

  “See?”

  “See what?” He turned his head a little.

  “You’re bossy. But a good kind. It’s always to… protect.”

  “Ah. I got you,” he said. “I’m getting my bed now.”

  “Okay. I’m getting out of your way. I’ll clean the dishes tomorrow if that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine. Or I can do them. But yeah, you can,” he said, remembering her need to repay.

  She suddenly walked past him and turned with her arms crossed over her chest. “Thank you,” she said. She quickly stepped up to him and kissed his cheek then spun around and hurried toward the bathroom. “Gonna rinse my mouth,” she said. “From the food.”

  Daniel sat there, unsure of what to think of that.

  Like a sister.

  ****

  Nineveh lay in Daniel’s bed, on her back, like a statue. She was in his bed. She slowly turned her head until her nose neared the pillow, closed her eyes, and sniffed slowly. Dear God. Is this what heaven smelled like? She had officially broken her debauchery record, not that she was trying for a new low. She’d fallen for a Preacher.

  She let herself relive what he’d done to her in the living room. Relive the feel of his hand on her head. The rush of power from his words. What was that? Was that supposed to happen? And if that had been God’s power she’d felt, then all the rest was like… fucked up. She shouldn’t be hot for a Preacher. Even if he was hot by every exact definition of the word. Did he have any more tatts besides that lion? What did he look like under that t-shirt? There was little left to the imagination. Not exactly what she’d consider modest dress for a Preacher, but she wasn’t about to complain. His shirt wore him more than he wore that shirt.

  She slowly slid her legs around under the cotton sheets, the friction tingling along her skin clear to her clit. She slid her arms around next then turned on her side, raking her leg back and forth over the mattress with a contented moan. What would it be like sleeping in this bed every night?

  She flopped on her back with a sigh. She had to be dreaming this all up. It was too fucking perfect. She glanced around in the dim light coming from the small lamp on the bedside table. His Gramma had to watch renovation shows. She’d rocked the hell out of his room décor. Black and silver and splashes of deep turquoise. Kingly. He was every bit of one in his own right. His countenance, his character, his… body, his passion for people. For her.

  She took in a deep breath
and wrapped her legs in the sheets, her mind erupting with naughty visions of him. Doing things to her. She gave a frustrated whimper when the pounding between her legs turned unbearable. She needed an orgasm but no way would she do that in his bed.

  ****

  Daniel woke up during the night, realizing he’d forgotten his alarm clock in his room. Fuck, his luck he’d oversleep on his first day on the job.

  He crept to his room, pausing at the door. He’d just grab it and not wake her. Carefully, he opened the door and tiptoed toward his dresser, casting a glance toward the bed. He froze in his tracks, eyes imprisoned by the giant angel wing covering one side of her entire body. His heart hammered in his chest then stomach when the fight to turn away became brutally real. And then she suddenly turned, presenting the silhouette of her front. The sight of her one, full breast, stole his mind and breath. He stood there, burning in the strange flames. This fire… was different from any fire he’d ever felt. God, help me.

  His eyes clenched shut and he remained there for several seconds, regaining his control. He opened his eyes enough to find his way to the door, quickly hurrying to it.

  “Daniel?”

  Fuck! Hand on the knob, he didn’t turn. “I had to get my alarm clock,” he said quietly. “Go back to sleep.” He hurried out and shut the door to the fiery furnace, ready for an arctic cold shower to rid his mind of what still seared it. In full, larger than life, living color.

  He hurried to the bathroom and turned on the shower, desperate to stop the burn before it set in too deep. How would he unsee that? God, help me unsee that, I can’t see that. I can’t, not if I’m helping her.

  He turned on the shower and stripped out of his clothes.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” Nineveh said, slamming the bathroom door shut. “I’m so sorry!” she cried outside the door. "I needed the bathroom, I swear to God there is a-a lumpy ghost laying on the couch that I thought was you!”

  He stood there, his body heaving through turmoil. “Get a fucking grip,” he ordered himself under his breath. “It’s all good,” Daniel called. “I decided it was too close to waking up to try and sleep. Didn’t want to oversleep and be late for work on my first day. I’ll be out in 5 minutes.”