Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Those tattoos are amazing,” I blurt out.
He grins. “Want a closer look?” He pulls off his shirt, revealing way too much gorgeous skin.
I touch his arm, tracing a beautiful image of an angel and a devil trapped in what could either be either passion or anger. It’s hard to tell. “How long does getting something like this take? It’s art.”
“Surprised? Skin is just another canvas. That one? Took a couple of sessions. Maybe eight hours all together. One of our members did it, Wraith.” He takes my wrist and moves my hand so I'm touching another one instead. He’s so warm, and just this little physical connection feels incredibly comforting. “This one wasn’t quite as complicated.”
This tattoo is dirty—a woman whose robe is opened to reveal that she's naked underneath. Her big boobs defy the laws of gravity, with pink little nipples that could poke your eyes out. She's winking and her tongue sticks out at the corner of her seductive smile. The tongue is split, like a snake's. I snatch my hand away as soon as I realize what I’m touching.
“It’s very nice.”
Preacher laughs.
“What?”
“Nothing. You're fucking cute when you blush.” He runs his finger down my cheek. “How’re you feeling, angel?”
I lean into his touch. “Tired.”
“Come on, get into the shower before you collapse on me. I ordered pizza when we got here and it should show up any second.”
“Pizza?” I didn't even realize how starving I was until I find out I'm minutes away from stuffing myself full of bread, sauce and cheese. “You're amazing.”
“Nah, just hungry.” He points to the bathroom. “Move it or I'll eat everything.”
I stick out my tongue. The bathroom is tiny and old, but it's clean and there's plenty of hot water. I wash my hair twice and then stand there, letting the water wash over me until tears start running down my face.
I'm free. For the first time in years, I'm free.
I'm not sure how long I stand there, but eventually the door opens and Preacher comes in. He strips off his jeans and boxers and steps into the shower. His strong arms wrap around me and pull me tight against his muscular chest. The fact that we're naked together registers in some part of my brain, but it's the way he's holding me that I notice. Like I'm worth protecting.
“I've got you, baby,” he whispers into my hair. “You're safe now.”
I sob, clinging to him as if he's the only thing keeping me from drowning.
“Shh, it's okay. We're gonna take care of you.”
“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “I'm sorry I'm such a mess.”
“Don't apologize for being human.” He rubs a hand over my back in long, slow strokes. “Means you're letting yourself feel things.”
“I don't know what to feel.”
“That's okay too.” He kisses my forehead, neck and down to my shoulder. “But you don't have to worry about anything tonight. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
I nod, sniffling. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” He kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine. “Now let's get you cleaned up.”
He takes the soap and starts washing me slowly, starting high and working his way down. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his rough hands on my body rather than the storm of emotions inside me. When he gets to my breasts, he spends extra time, cupping them gently and rubbing his thumbs over my nipples until they ache and pebble under his touch.
I’m not sure if I should be letting him, but it feels nice.
“So sensitive,” he murmurs. “I love it.”
“Mmm.”
He chuckles and kisses me again, this time slipping his tongue into my mouth. I moan softly as he sucks on my bottom lip before pulling away. Definitely nice.
“Turn around.”
I obey, bracing myself against the wall as he continues to wash me. He takes his time, making sure every inch is covered in suds before turning me back around and kissing me again. This time, he doesn't stop at my lips. His tongue traces my jawline and down my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He nibbles on my earlobe and I gasp.
“Like that?” he asks, voice low and husky.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He cups my breasts, massaging them gently as he kisses my shoulders and back. He’s not washing me anymore, not even trying to pretend. “Fuck, you're gorgeous.”
His hand slides down my stomach and slips between my thighs. He waits for me to part my thighs, but as soon as I do, he finds my clit and rubs it in slow circles. I whimper. It feels so good, but I'm still sore from having sex for the first time with Crash earlier.
“Shh, I’ll be gentle.” And he is, teasing my clit slowly with his thumb but not pushing for more. It’s the kind of tenderness I never would’ve expected from a rough man like him. “I want to make you feel good, but if you want me to stop, or to get the fuck out of here? Say it.”