His cock sprang out, grazing against my stomach. I stared down at it with wide eyes.
“Touch it,” he said.
I wrapped my hand around its base, barely able to get my whole hand around it. He lightly grasped my throat and pulled me toward him, caressing my cheek with his other hand.
“I’m claiming you tonight. I’m making you mine. I’m going to be deep inside of you.” He pressed his lips to mine and pushed me back onto the bed.
He crawled between my legs, pressing his cock against my entrance. He brushed his canines against the side of my neck, his breath warm. “Tell me you want me. Tell me I’m yours.”
I curled my hand into his soft hair. “You’re mine,” I said, pulling him closer.
At that moment, he sank his canines deep into my neck and plunged himself into me at the same time. I screamed out, the pressure almost too much to handle.
He pumped in and out of me slowly, licking his mark and helping it heal. Pleasure pumped through my body, and I curled my toes. The pain slowly disappeared, and I stared up at my mate. Goddess, it felt so good. Too good.
For the third time tonight, I was on the brink of exploding with pure ecstasy. I curled my fingers into his shoulders. He slipped a hand between my legs, rubbing my swollen clit. My chest heaved up and down.
“I’m going to come,” I said breathlessly.
“Come for me, my little mate.”
My back arched, and I came on him. My whole body trembled against the bed. He brushed his thumb against my cheek in soothing circles. He stilled inside of me, placing his lips on mine.
Mine. My alpha was mine.
XXXXX
Sinful Whore:::
I wonder if there is a moment in every child’s life when they realize their father is a hypocrite. While the Reverend Gary Powell preached about the sanctity of marriage and the sins of the flesh, he had no qualms about indulging in them, violating his own marriage vows to my mother by desecrating another holy bond.
Last week, I spied on him and Donna Paxtor, a deacon’s wife, engaging in a sin of carnal delight. My sixteen-year-old body was not prepared for the sight of Donna bent naked over my father’s desk in his office at Thousand Oaks Methodist, her red hair hiding her face as she gasped and moaned while my equally naked father stood behind her, fucking her.
It was such a dirty word. One my mother would wash my mouth out if she even thought I knew it. But there was no other word than fucking to describe what he did to Donna Paxtor. Her bottom rippled every time Father slammed into her. It made an obscene, slapping sound, joining her voice.
Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, the cheating wife had hissed, her breasts pillowed across my father’s mahogany desk, a gift from the church only last year.
Watching my father sin with Donna awakened lusts inside my body. I had sexual desires before that day, but they were tiny. My heart would flutter for a cute boy at school, a sinful itch forming between my thighs which I had always resisted at the urging of my mother. I had denied myself like I was taught, like my father had preached.
But watching him, his chest surprisingly muscular for a man in his forties, awakened me to true sexual desires. He was a handsome man, I always knew that, with dark hair touched by wings of gray streaking back from the temples. Strong, authoritative, stern. He made me squirm. I forgot all about working with the flower bed, which is why I came to the church after school.
That heat. That warm itch, blossomed in me. Right then, tight there, behind the church, I shoved my hand down my jeans and into my panties. I brushed through my silken pubic hair and found the lips of my vagina.
No, my pussy, like the boys called it. A filthy, wonderful name for the hot, hungry hole between my thighs. I massaged my lips, shuddering and quivering, my long, blonde hair flowing about my head. I shivered, frigging myself faster and faster, rubbing across my wet lips. Sinful juices coated them as I stared at my father fucking a married woman.
A preacher.
I shuddered, biting my lip to keep from moaning like a wanton whore, screaming like Donna. They violated the church with their affair. It was so wrong. So perverted. I stroked through my flesh faster, wishing I was bent over the table, wondering why I denied Ricky my virginity when we were going steady a few months back.
He broke off our relationship in favor of that slut Carolyn. She didn’t mind spreading her legs in the back of his brand-new ’61 Plymouth while at the drive-thru. I foolishly believed my father’s sermons. He clearly didn’t.
I shuddered and then it happened as I rubbed myself watching my father. My first orgasm. I gasped, my fingers clenching, my eyes locked on my father’s cock sliding in and out of the whore’s pussy. It dripped from her juices. He grunted once, twice, and then buried into her as I shuddered. The pleasure burned through me. It let me swaying, lightheaded.