Chapter 121: The New Priest Has A Big Black Cock (8)

I part my lips, taking his fingers into my mouth—tasting myself, and tasting him.

“Sit up,” he says, drawing his fingers back in slow motion.

I part my lips just enough to drag against his skin, leaving a wet, lingering sound as his fingers slips away.

I obey, facing him like an obedient penitent.

He unbuckles his belt and I hate that he’s doing it himself. Usually, I love being the one who undoes a man, piece by piece.

But here, apparently I don't call the shots.

I should hate that.

Instead I find myself settling into it, waiting for his next command.

He pulls the leather from his loops, folds it, and lets it hit the floor. Then he tilts his chin, summoning me.

I smile and place my palms against his chest, feeling the heat beneath his shirt as my fingers trail downward. I stop at his navel.

Leaning in, I press my face against his skin and let the tip of my tongue trace the hollow of his belly button.

His hands find my hair, his grip firm, as my fingers trail downward and stop above the band of his trousers.

My hands find the button, then the zipper.

Even through his dark undergarments, the sheer size of him is undeniable.

I slowly push his pants down to his knees. Before I can reach inside, his hand catches my wrist.

His gaze locks onto mine.

“Treat my dick like it’s your property,” he orders, his voice low. “No mercy.”

I smile softly. “Yes, Father.”

I pull down his briefs, and his dick springs free

My breath catches.

He’s massive—dark, and thick, crowned by a deep, flushed tip. Thick veins stretch along his hard length.

I’ve never seen any cock like this outside my imagination.

Seeing him in reality is more intimidating than every fantasy I’ve ever had.

I have no idea if my body can actually accommodate him, but the thrill of trying outweighs every instinct to pull back.

“It’s huge,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Your mother said the exact same thing.”

My smile falters.

Of course she did.

His eyes widen slightly, as if he’s only just realized what he’s said. “I…”

He clears his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“Forget I said that.”

I give him a small smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”

I knew my mother had been here with him. I knew what they had done. But hearing him say it so casually makes something inside me twist.

Now I have no reason to doubt that my mother is anything but the virtuous saint she pretends to be.

Dad is the idiot who still doesn’t realize his wife is sleeping with the priest. He should have stayed behind after Mass when Mom said she was going to meet with the priest.

But then, how would he have known?

“You should consider yourself lucky,” I tease, leaning closer. “You had her by day. Now you have me at night.”

He weaves his fingers into my hair, lightly messing up the strands. “You and your mother are the fortunate ones,” he murmurs, his voice taking on the solemn rhythm of a prayer. “Now... get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

I reach out and wrap both hands around his dick.

A faint smile touches his lips as I hold the very thing he swore to consecrate, the flesh he promised to withhold from the world.

The sight sends a thrill through me.”

I lean in, breathing in his scent, and taste the slick bead of moisture at the tip.

My hand can barely wrap around his circumference, so I trace the sensitive curve with my tongue, watching his expression for the smallest reaction.

I open wider, attempting to take his length into my mouth, but the sheer width stretches me to my limit. I compromise by hollow-cheeked suckling over the pink cap, drawing a firm vacuum that leaves a sharp, wet pop every time my lips slip free.

My hand slides up his thigh, feeling the tension gathering in his muscles as his breathing turns uneven. I shift my focus downward, slipping my hand past his shaft to cup him.

He winces softly, a low sound escaping his chest.

I drop my chin, taking one of his balls into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the tight skin before tracing the sensitive seam running toward his lower body.

He tightens his grip on my hair, anchoring me in place.

I return to the cock, licking along the underside up to the crown, using the tip of my tongue to tease the sensitive opening.

He lets out a low moan.

I grip him tightly with both hands and force as much of him inside as I can manage.

Only a fraction enters, and already my jaw aches and my lips feel stretched to their limit.

I pull back, gasping for air.

Envy twists through me when I think of older, more experienced women who could probably take him without struggling.

Women like my mother.

“You can’t take it all,” he boasts, a confident smirk on his face. “No woman can.”

My hand tightens around him once more.

“Maybe not all at once, Father,” I say, “but I can empty those balls another way.”

His eyes darken. “I’ll leave every drop inside you... only if you can survive my thrusts.”

A shiver runs through me.

“I dare you, Father,” I murmur, spreading my knees in invitation.

Instead of taking me right then, he drops to his knees before the pew. Before I can process the change, he hooks his strong hands under my thighs, lifting my legs and locking me in place.

He buries his face between my hips.

His tongue is warm, steady, and relentless.

The grip on my legs keeps my hips pinned, making it impossible to squirm away from the sensation.

I didn’t expect this.

My fingers curl against the wood, searching for something to hold onto.

I arch my back, my fingers digging into my chest as the pleasure builds inside me with a crazy intensity.

A shattered moan breaks from my throat.

“Stop...” I gasp, “Arggh... wait...”

He pauses, lifting his head just enough to look up at me, his mouth glistening.

There’s something almost amused in his expression, as though he has been waiting for me to reach this point.

My stomach tightens.

“What makes you taste like this?” he murmurs.

I swallow hard.

Then his eyes darken.

“You’re far sweeter than your mother.”

I hate how easily he admits to sleeping with my mother.

Yet a dark, twisted pride blooms in my chest.

At least now I know I can be sweeter than the holy saint who acts as though she couldn’t crush a fly.

He buries his face between my thighs again. I press a hand against his anointed head, threading my fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

“Father… oh God.” I cry out as his tongue ruins me completely.

A strange pressure builds low in my body, unfamiliar enough to frighten me. I try to hold it back, convinced something is wrong with me.

But as his slick movements intensify, the wave breaks.

I let go completely, a hot rush pouring over him.

Terror coils in my stomach as he pulls back, his face glistening, but a satisfied grin spreads across his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his deep voice vibrating against my skin. “You’ve never squirt before?”

Squirt.

So that’s what it feels like.

I shake my head, panting.

He leans back in, licking away the slick wetness before drawing me into a deep suction that makes my knees weak.

Another strong wave rushes through me.

My body shakes helplessly until I’m completely spent.

He looks up, eyes dark with a chilling, predatory light.

“Now it’s time to fill you up, Calista,” he whispers against my inner thigh. “Let’s see how well you can handle what you came here for.”