Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“You’ve seen the worst of me. You have seen me at my most sadistic and what did you do? My sweet angel, you begged for more. No one has ever looked at me the way you look at me. Sure, plenty of women have looked at me in lust, wanting to find out what it’s like to fuck God by fucking a priest. Women all over the world have looked at me with eyes hungry for my cock. You are the only one to ever see beyond it. The only woman to ever see beyond my name because my name doesn’t mean shit to you.”
“That’s not true,” she said, her eyes sliding closed and a fresh wave of wetness coating my fingers as I pressed them into her tight little pussy. “Your name means everything. It’s the name of the man who stole my sister at the altar, dirtying her name. It’s the name that everybody whispers when talking about the Irish mafia. Manwarring is the name of tyrants and warmongers who pretend to be part of polite society. Your name means fire and burning, nothing but pain and disaster. Your name is the one that got my mother killed, and—”
“Your mother got herself killed. She was probably more in touch with the Irish mob than my father has been. My brother cut ties with them months ago. Your mother was still working with them. I may have set some shit up, but it was her connection to the mafia that ended her life. It would have happened eventually. I just made it happen before she could really destroy your life, but you want to talk about pain? Okay, let me show you how good it can feel to burn in that fire.”
I grabbed a candle that still had about halfway to go from the candelabra and brought it to her face. Her eyes widened, but I kept my fingers going hard on her clit, letting the fear taint her pleasure.
“Last chance, little angel. Tell me you’re mine.”
“Never,” she said as she stared at the flame, biting into her bottom lip, thighs trembling around my hand.
“Let me show you how good it can feel to burn, angel.” Slowly, I tipped the white candle and let the hot wax drip onto her milky breasts, as I moved my fingers from her clit into her tight pussy.
She let out a small cry as the beads of wax dripped down over her breast, but her cunt gripped my fingers tightly, not wanting to let go. I pressed into her G-spot over and over as I thrust my fingers in and out, dripping more of the hot wax on her body.
“I think you like the way it burns,” I teased, dripping more onto her nipple as her back arched against the wrought iron fence, lifting her breasts further in the air. “You say you’re not mine, you say you don’t love me but look at you. Do you think another man can ever make you feel like this? Do you think there’s any way in this world that I would ever even let another man touch you? You are mine. Say it.”
“No,” she cried out as I pushed my fingers into her harder and harder at a near-punishing pace.
More and more of the hot wax dripped onto her skin. I watched as the beads slowly hardened from translucent wax to opaque little bubbles on her flesh, tightening the surface of her skin. I bent down just enough to pull the nipple that hadn’t been covered in wax yet into my mouth. Sucking and flicking over the tip as my thumb pressed to work her clit and I continued to fuck her with my fingers, adding a third to give her more of a stretch.
Her thighs trembled around me as she panted and moaned. If I kept to that pace, she would come soon. I couldn’t let that happen. Not until she admitted she loved me, that I owned her.
“Please,” she pleaded.
I stood to my full height, never stopping my fingers, and moved the candle to her other breast, shiny with my spit. I didn’t let the wax drip on her yet. Instead, I blew a stream of air over the tight little peak, tiny little bumps erupting all over the wet flesh. Then I dripped the hot wax.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I demanded again.
“No. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, it doesn’t matter how much I want you to fuck me, it changes nothing. You are still a priest and admitting anything would just cause more pain. I won’t let you control me. I will not put my life on hold again for somebody else.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I said, dripping more wax on her, this time as punishment rather than pleasure. “I’m telling you to admit that you belong to me. Admit that you love me.”