The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,79
to pass on a little cruelty of her own. She slid her hands down his long back, and every time his cock made her vagina spasm she dug her fingernails into his skin. He let her do it—but only twice.
Then he pulled out and turned her onto her hands and knees. He forced her legs wider from behind, so wide her belly touched the bed. He entered her with a rough thrust, impaling her hard enough she cried out. But his fingertips found her clitoris and stroked it as he used her from behind, stroked her until she was nearly blind with the need to come.
S?ren gripped her by her shoulders, thumbs on the back of her neck, immobilizing her against the bed.
His thrusts seemed endless, as did her desire for them. Long moans escaped her lips, which she tried to stifle with the sheets. S?ren’s fingers knew her body too well. He had her trapped at the edge of orgasm. He held her there with his touch, with his organ that slid in and out of her slick hole. He might punish her if she went over the edge, if she came without permission.
She came anyway. She couldn’t help it or stop it. She was too wet and the fingers stroking her were too wet and everything inside her quivered and tensed and there was no telling her body no when it was ready to scream “yes.”
When she came, she buried her mouth against the bed to scream and only the last syllable of it hit the air as he lifted her back against him. She sank down on his cock as he held her on his knees. His hand came around and clasped her throat. His mouth was at her ear so she could hear his ragged breaths. He fucked up and into her until his own release. He inhaled and inhaled, his breath hitching and then he was coming inside her, filling her.
Only when he finished did he release his iron grip on her throat. He let her go and she collapsed onto the bed. S?ren lay down on his back next to her, ran one hand through sweat-soaked hair and then used his hand as a pillow.
“You’ll have to apologize to Sheridan about the sheets,” he said.
“What? It’s okay. Come comes out.”
“Blood might not.”
“Blood?”
S?ren rolled onto his side away from her. He had eight bleeding claw marks on his back just under his shoulder blades.
“Fuck,” she said, then laughed. “Oops?”
S?ren only laughed and rolled onto his wounded back again. She rested against his chest, listening to his wild heartbeat.
“Broke a man’s foot. Tore open my back. You are bloodthirsty, Eleanor. It’s no wonder you fell in love with me.”
She made a little “humph” sound and S?ren said, “What was that?”
“Nothing. Just…you’re the second person tonight to tell me I’m violent.”
What S?ren said then said everything. “Only the second?”
She traced his collarbone with her fingertips. She’d nearly drifted off to sleep when S?ren spoke.
“When did you start watching Doctor Who?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t really,” Nora said. “Zach’s favorite show when he was a kid. He’s been showing the old episodes to Fionn. I’ve watched it with them a couple times. Just the ones with the guy with the long scarf. The new ones are too scary.”
“Does Fionn like it?”
“He loves it. Last visit, I played Sarah Jane Smith and Zach was a Dalek. Fionn’s always the Doctor.” She raised her head and looked down at him. “Why do you ask?”
“It never would have occurred to me that he would like Doctor Who. He’s only three.” Silence again. Then, “Zachary’s a good father to him.”
“He is.”
“I hate him.”
Nora laughed. S?ren did, too, a quiet self-deprecating laugh that turned into a soft groan. He rubbed his forehead.
“Being apart from him is harder than I ever dream. Why did I do this to myself? To you? To us?”
She reached across him and on the nightstand lay her keys. She grabbed them and held up a key.
“Here,” she said. “Here’s my TARDIS key. Take it. Hop in. Go back in time and stop yourself from conceiving Fionn. Would you if you could?”
He took a long breath then reached out, not to take the keys but to stroke her face.
“I thought so.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cyrus lay down next to Paulina and pulled her to him. He kissed her. That was all. Nothing but kissing and more kissing for as long as he could stand it and as long as she could take it.