Chapter 122 I Just Want You
Baron's POV
He kept pounding into me, each thrust leaving me breathless.
Oh fuck. God.
My fingers held on to the desk, trying to hold on while my body rocked forward with every brutal push of his hips.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against my ear. “Love being bent over like a whore in God’s house. Love taking my cock while you beg for forgiveness you don’t deserve.”
“Yes, Father,” I panted, all atom of my senses gone. “Fuck, yes. I love it. I love being your whore.”
His hand slid around to my throat again, squeezing just enough to make my head spin. “Say it louder. I want the walls to hear what a filthy priest you really are.”
“I’m your filthy priest.” I choked out, louder this time, voice cracking on every word. “Your disobedient slut. Your hole to use. Please don’t stop. Ruin me. Make me remember who I belong to.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through my back. “You already know. You crawled here at midnight with your cock dripping because you’re addicted. Say it.”
“I’m addicted to your cock,” I moaned, hips pushing back to meet him even though my legs were trembling and shaking.
I could barely stand but… “I’m addicted to the way you stretch me. The way you hurt me. I tried to stop. I swear I tried Father. But I need it. I need you inside me.”
He slowed suddenly, dragging out until only the head of his dick was left in me, teasing me, finding pleasure in torturing me. I whimpered, our bodies stuck in a push and pull game.
“Beg for it,” he ordered. “Beg like the desperate little cock slut you are.”
“Please, Father Michael,” I begged, my throat raw. “Please fuck me harder. Please fill me again. I’ll do anything. I’ll crawl. Just don’t stop. I can’t take it. I need your cum in me. Need you to mark me. Own me.”
He slammed back in without warning. I cried out, the sound raw and echoing around the room.
“That’s it,” he snarled, the sound predatory in my ears. “Scream for me. Let the whole fucking rectory know what kind of sinner you are.”
He fucked me harder, faster, the desk creaking dangerously under us. My cock slapped against the edge with every thrust, leaking in thick and sticky cum onto the floor.
I was so close, so fucking close, but he hadn’t touched me once.
“Don’t you dare come,” he warned, no room for argument. “Not until I say so.. You come when you’re punished, not when you want to.”
“I won’t,” I sobbed. “I promise. I’ll be good. Just. Fuck. Keep going. Deeper. Please.”
His hand left my throat and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back until my spine arched painfully.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I twisted as much as I could, my eyes watering, meeting his gaze. His face was flushed, eyes wild, his beautiful lips parted.
Fucking beautiful. Fucking terrifying. Everything I shouldn’t want.
But I did.
Oh God, how much I wanted it.
“You’re shaking,” he said softly, sounding almost tender for a second.
Then the tenderness disappeared like it was never there. “You’re shaking because you know this is wrong. And you’re still here begging for more. Tell me why.”
“Because I’m broken,” I whispered. “Because the only time I feel anything real is when you’re using me. When you’re punishing me. When you’re making me hurt. I don’t want salvation anymore. I just want you.”